I lie here in bed,
hit by a chill.
I know the one,
it brings me still.

Pitch black surrounds,
crowding me whole,
sweats on my brow,
feelings are cold.

My body is solid,
flat as a board,
goosebumps risen,
sounds are scored.

Don't want to move,
my eyes do the most,
What did I see?
Am I seeing ghosts?

Shadows cast images,
up on the wall,
Can't make it out,
starting to fall.

Under the covers,
heart starts to pound.
Senses are scared,
my beliefs are abound.

Scared as hell now,
don't want to believe.
What lurks in the dark?
Is waiting for me.

It's finally gone
and I am still here.
What was that feeling?
That strangled my fear.

Does your bed ever not feel like your own?
It is the way the sheets feel as they slide against your skin
Your blanket, though once resembled a warm safe place, now slowly suffocating you
with the scent of a far away lover
The one who had kissed you goodnight with a false 'I love you", on their lips,
then vanished without out a trace
before you could even catch your breath
They were the one could fill you with such an incredible sense of  hope;
yet make you want to **** yourself in the same moment.

before I can write, I have to stop
and consider the new nail growth
that has pushed nail paint further up
as my tiny talons become more worthy of their name.

earlier, I pointed at the individual students
one by one; they hesitantly mustered words
to match my unclear expectations;
hoping to avoid my sarcastic cackle,
or the full blown eyes gleaming
like the deepest darkest black marbles
wedged in my eye sockets,
their words trailed off, along with their interest.

I don't try to find a broom that fits my grip.
mine has always been the right fit,
and I've had the ability to travel through time,
and somehow connect one vague memory to the next,
adding detail and sharpening what was dull and lifeless,
so the imagery is mechanically pointed and precise.

My face paint is strategic war paint,
but brown, never green.
At once I'm judged as foreigner,
of foreign origin; young (you're THAT old?)

they will never know that I fear my own image
and imaginings
worse than they fear what power my pen wields.
to bear the weight of an expanse of thoughts--
strenuous, burdensome, careful responsibility--
with relief only once words materialize on a page,
on a screen,
that they will never read.

for no witch was born witch;
she was made so once her dreams shriveled
and resembled the lifeless frogs in her hands.

I find it amazing that you can
  
      Create an entire civilization with
  
      just one female.... A lot of you women
  
      really don't understand your true worth
  


      She means to me...
  
      What the lung means
  
      to breathe... what the
  
      arm means to sleeves
  
      If one was convinced
  
      there soon to freeze
  
      She means to you...
  
      What the breeze mean
  
      to leaves....what the fall
  
      means to trees if it
  
      was that time when
  
      the branches clothing
  
      is freed
  
      She means to we...
  
      What a life means
  
      to conceive.. what
  
      a blessing means to
  
      receive if ones thought
  
      aimed toward the sky
  
      with intent on a gift to
  
      retrieve
  
      How could a man....
  
      Raise his hand
  
      to something so
  
      precious... In attempt
  
      to sending a message
  
      which was inspired by
  
      senseless aggression
  
      How could we stand.....
  
      absent her gift of
  
      reproduction....yes
  
      "I" provide the seed
  
      but absent "her " soil
  
      life would mean nothing
  
      How would one see..
  
      If their eyes wasn't
  
      equipped with vision...
  
      "He" without "her" is
  
      equivalent to a mind
  
      which lacks decision
  
      How could one speak....
  
      If there was no
  
      knowledge of speech...
  
      the existence of man
  
      lives in her hand her
  
      creations beyond unique
  
      sometimes her value
  
      is misplaced stolen
  
      somewhere along her
  
      journey... Love disguises
  
      the thief it's usually someone
  
      she thought was worthy
  
      never allow your care for
  
      another to shield you from
  
      your purpose.... God doesn't
  
      make mistakes your the route
  
      to life it's "she" who the world
  
      should worship
  
      She means to me
  
      (c) 2012 viewtifulink

When something's not
right..... Homeless, unsheltered
by your category of routine....
it may invite emotions mental
security hired for the dismissal
of any loitering  

angry disappointment and frustration
just to name a few guards within
your mind who's considered the
most mean, tell me again why
your mind requested it's streets
to be clean

we are rich....
with health so many
can't even afford to
breathe... Can you
imagine living with
dreams of being able
to breathe absent
machines, or...: having
to bathe and hydrate
your child with water's
struck with a disease that
feast on living things, I'm
not revoking your right
to complain just lending
you the thought of  the
perception of you through another's
lens may mimic the one of
a king

we take so much for
granted and stress the
minor things when so
many struggle to survive
and pray that god intervenes

Silenced

© 2014 viewtifulink

Unusual I've been
labeled, they laugh
I am handicap because
their prints I refuse
to follow so I'm
disabled ....

Never purposely
tried to portray this
rose amongst the
many leaves I'm just
walking my destined
path our god happened
to lead..... We all wasn't
born to sprout from your
common tree, some of
us unseen until the beauty
explodes from
underneath, or some of us
live beneath empowering
the entire scene from the root
to the roof we all have different
means

Antisocial I've been
labeled, they laugh I
am handicap because
I lack the ability to
see... What am I looking
for if my care only supports
the thought of lead? Blind
to what ever they claim resides
in front of me so they call me
weird and stare at me
awkwardly

Never will I
take part in ****
that don't interest
me just to sport another's
shoe I say f*ck your
common feet...

I'm sorry... I laugh
because you allowed your
god granted free will to
become extinct... your
handicap brainwashed
into believing that there's
only one way to think

Unusual

© 2014 viewtifulink