Burn

The images burnt onto their retinas,
Unflinchingly…
As:

The sky darkens,
The embers of the broken hearts rain slowly down.
The acrid smoke,
Pervading the lives of those in the shadows.

The heavy air,
Blankets the never-ending words and lies.
The hungry flames,
Scald the hearts of those left behind.

Now:
The dirty fingers trace their scars,
Regretfully…
It’s still the same.

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My Space My Stuff

~With All the Fire of the Sun~
The sunlight is fading from the sky
And I feel its dying warmth on my bare skin
Convincing me all the more
That I am truly burning for you
Inside and out,
That this body is sentenced to death without your touch,
Death by fire
Of useless, unrequited desire.
I rise, and run
Chasing the fleeing sun,
Don’t leave, not yet!
Stay, and fill me,
I’ll burn a little while longer…
I slide my hands down my bare arms
Wishing your hands were there instead.

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All these feelings tangled,
hidden in between
a shredded blue-sky curtain
-magnified-
in timed descension.

Perhaps dreamt tears shall shine on through-
a prismatic light formation.
And if it chose to come ablaze,
I'd torch my held creation.

If only I could speak out loud,
I'd release such festered thoughts
inside.
But focused dreams appear too rare
in a jagged mind, deflected.

And in this hopeless place I yearn,
still clinging to these covers tight.
Yet if I ever had the chance,
I'd gladly watch this shelter burn.

Branded

Your ghostly touch like a black tattoo on my pale skin,
Those cold evil fingertips caressing my every thought,
Your mocking voice forever lingers in my dreams,
As the pain forms a scar that I can never hide.

The sound of the burning innocence echoes my screams,
As you destroyed the person I will never have the courage to be again,
The fragments and the memories are all that remain,
As this welt scalds my heart and I blame myself.

Here is another echo of the many words before,
And I once said I’d never write about you again,
But I lied, because you branded me.
Unforgettably. For eternity.

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My Space My Stuff

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I hope it's ok for me to submit now, I haven't been home over the weekend and so I didn't get to post my entry, but I wrote it last week or so. It's actually my first try at lyrics rather than a poem. So sorry for being late.

Red on black

Everytime I’m on the street
The image of you follows me
Everytime there’s red on black
And golden hair beyond the neck
It always makes me turn my head

Oh, how I hate you
For controlling my mind
I wish to escape you
I want to be blind

I walked behind you so many times that
You claim my dreams in so many nights
To taint what’s left of innocence
Disturb my thoughts at my expense
You failed to be my only sense!

Oh, how I hate me
For being so weak
I want to break free
I don’t want to bleed

I throw that image in my flame
Of love once blazing in your name
The colours mingle, turning black
My soul thrives, embers gleaming red
The fire is smothered- I’ll never look back!

sg
end of June 2006

Burn

"Prove yourself" he kicked the ciggerette but across the concrete warehouse. "Then maybe you'll be welcomed". He unstrapped his jacket pocket, talking a slick instrument from it, it was grimey, but it still reflected the light. He threw it, I caught it afraid to drop it and let it go off. I held it tight at the leather handle, it burned my skin in a way without hot or cold. I could feel my brain alerting me, my nerves were going crazy, it was dangerous.

He lay, draped against some broken wooden crates, gasping for air. It didn't help, blood still poured more with every inhale from his neck. I stood shaking, there was complete silent except for the gasps for life. The members of Wolves were silent, not bothered as they had seen it a thousand times before, from first to second person observations. But they looked on as I was new, keeping the scene in their vision. Bull grunted, his face frowning fiercely, "we don't have all day, sweet 'art, get it over with". He flicked a speck of dirt from his jacket.

The gun in my hands, I walked quietly over to the man. I was trying to be quiet, maybe if he survived he wouldn't notice me, so quiet, that I had shot at him. It was made of light gulping slive, with darker streaks of grey and black down its side. The handle, was made of dirty torn leather, and it began to get moist from the sweat off my hands. My fingers clasped around the gun, with the nails digging into my palm. I slowly raised the gun, I heard my bracelets clink off each other nad my watch. My body burned. I closed my eyes and stood there for a few minutes silently.

Bull was getting impatient, I slipped my index finger into the trigger. My body burned on, without fire or water. i felt my body quivering.

"Do it!".

Bang.

The pressure and burning was too much for me, I collapsed to the concrete floor, unsure if I had killed someone.

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