All is said and In solitude, the bull rests. No longer will the degrading eyes stare upon us. For we are now one in stare in solitude isolation desolation do we know the difference? Isolated into a tiny mindset where no one else can hear or see you an author in pain only writing from his rib in flow of conscience dots on a tiny page are no different from the water she is. The bridge we hold with this only covers a gap for so long before it crumbles. A key to a lock I’ve no need to pre think my writing though am not claiming to be a god. To those with the loudest and most obnoxious thoughts I am but a simple *******, pessimist.

right now he's starting
right now i feel his gaze
it's choking me
right now i can hear him
i can see the light flash off of his skin
right now my psychosis is the worst it was
in 2 years
right now i feel like running away
right now i feel like hiding
right now i feel like he's here
a brute awakening
pull back to earth

right now nothing matters except for the presence of a hallucination i've been having for 2 years
right now it's the worst it's been
right now i feel like drowning
right now she's questioned me
right now i'm mute
I can't answer

right now.. right now...

he's impulsive. I haven't seen him in a year. I miss poe. he stayed with me. I can't ask him. I can't ask for him. He left. poe. he can hear me. he can see me. i miss poe.



a strange figure approached me late at night. I was 12. he stared with golden coloured eyes. he left as soon as he came. I stare through the vents. where I thought he was.. where I saw him, in our teal blue bathroom.

that night

that night I caught glimpse of him in my window, that night I felt angry eyes on me. that night I began to fear him. only a floating head now.

not symbolic no.

I see him. he sees me.


one day

after my father was done.

he told me he'd hurt him.
for hurting me
he stared intently at the right side of my face. with wide eyes
and pursed lips.

but i can hear him whisper sometimes.

poe

poe. he opened his mouth one time.

one time, I saw him open his mouth, for the first time.

it was a inky mess. it blended with his pitch black skin which contrasted with his bright white eyes. and black iris. he was mad i was in the hospital.

he was mad and didn't let me sleep.

so i stayed up silently as he stared. like always.

poe.

Flame of a blue hue, the whitest of seats play in the trench of foul death at the horns of an addax pierced through my cumbersome heart. to steal away at everything I've prided myself in. I'd stained myself with the disgusting feeling of love, and drank the poison of jealousy in the cabinet of curtain. With sapphires and jaspers of deep red. Not to my wish i had lead myself alone and draped a cloak of deep purple velvet over my broken pitiful heart. soft minded now I

2004 the statue in which he lie, of the depths of the bog.

and the cicada buzzing.         the breeze of the summer.
no. spring.
spring of april.

the isolation of trees.

silver glossed eyes children hands lay scattered as a man failed to collect.
lay
scattered.
gaps in the tree of the luminance king of ace queen of hearts

jack of all trades

king of hearts is to pierce through the dagger. not the diamond.

sand. in which salmon fly                     the forest began to reclaim the cards and your highness crumble.

he crumbles. to the subject of society.

consider this the beginning of

The rise and the downfall

of Bonnie J. Michaelis