artifacts arranged
chronologically -

flint and wood
allied with cordage -

sharp-edged bronze and iron
- a skull with cut marks
beside a copper
-tipped alloy bullet

on the shelf between
war and peace
and anthropology -
an anthology

- details emerge
in the painting
- killing is our nature
and dying

- a still life.

r ~ 10/26/14

The evening's back again
Right on track again,
Like every night before.

Darkness falls again
Demons call again,
I really can't take much more.

Time flies by again
Children cry again,
And my agony draws a crowd.

Silence fills again
Violence kills again,
Why is it all so loud?

Light peeks through the
black curtain and I feel pain
It is an old friend
whose presence repulses me

I once was luminous
in the presence of shadows
But now the obscurity of my vigor
offers a crying shoulder to my sensors

I’ve been told that the light will set me free
But the comfort in darkness
offers a daunting bliss with me

I find myself most of the time
searching for ways to pass the time
And then I remember.
Tomorrow morning I’ll be fine
and I’ll go through the motions
just another time

If I could,
I would,
But I can't,
So I won't.

If I could say it,
Say sorry,
I would, 
But it's impossible.

I'd say sorry, 
For my insecurities,
For my pain,
For my sorrow.

For the trouble,
For what we did,
For me,
For everything.

For telling you my fears,
For trying to hide my tears,
For every message that you and I sent,
For every lie you told,
For every lie I believed, 
But I can't.

For how I was torn,
For how I could've sworn,
That you were the truth,
But I can't.

For my cries,
For the words of discontent,
I wish so much to say sorry,
But I can't.

For the dreams,
For your heart that is hollow,
For my wants,
For what I see,
In forever,
It will take a never-ending apology,
For now I wish I could, but I can't.

Arcs of electricity
crackle above streets.
Fields of inefficiency;
noise of power lines
taser misery.
All I crave is silence.
All I crave is silence.
But please don't silence me.

I look around constantly
I slide down in my seat
I hate looking in the mirror
I hide from me
Their words scare me

I roam the hallways with my head down
I speak only when spoken to
I'm not the one people walk over to
Kayla who?
They have no clue

I sit alone at lunch
When I eat I never crunch
I sit in a hunch
It controls me
I cannot finish
I stand and walk away quickly

My skin has gone prickly
As it does every day
My hand accidentally brushes against someone familiar in the hallway
"Geez! Your hands feel like ice! Why are you always freezing?"
I mumble the excuse of a cold lunch
I stumble away

Thirteen, maybe fourteen?
I hear my step dad say the cause of **** is a woman's clothing
Eleven, maybe twelve?
I'm on the ground
The voices all around me don't hear my cries
I wish I'd die.
Nine, maybe ten?
I wake up alone and run to the neighbors
My daddy has been drinking again
He makes excuses
None of which I believe
But I smile and nod
What he doesn't know
Is his words make me bleed
Seven, maybe eight?
I never knew why I made the call to my mother that morning
About the beer cap I found in the chair
Until now
After all, it was just one, right?

I am in the moment
a moment of time
a creative light of being
with a fast achieving love
taking nothing for granted
not even the sun or stars can shine
with the hole in my heart
and the weakened soul
with a love of enchantment
a cry that claims me
one more moment of time....

Debbie Brooks 2014 - @ copywrite