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Monica Chaloupka Dec 2011
I dream a alone this night

Slipping to the right into a cold rabbits hole.

I tumble down through dancing shades of dark

Entangling in unseen wisps of bittersweet memories.
Monica Chaloupka Apr 2013
Sweet anticipation.

Where does such a thing come from?

Does anticipation come from the mind where one knows something is about to happen?

Or does anticipation come from the heart where ones hopes and dreams are held?

In truth, anticipation comes from all around.

From within ones being and also the surrounding environment.

Every little breath, every passing breeze increases the anticipation.

Until finally it all comes together.
Monica Chaloupka Sep 2010
Beauty crowds me till I die.

Look there, across the street.
Do you see her? Do you see how they gaze at her?

My blood boils. My breath quickens.

One slice. One piece.
Her breath escapes. Her beauty gone.

Death claims me again this night.

Look there, next to the horror books.
Do you see her? Do you see how they gaze at her?

My blood boils. My breath quickens.

One slice. Two piece.
Her face pales. Her beauty gone.

Death claims me again this night.

Look there, across from that old ***.
Do you see her? Do you see how they gaze at her?

My blood boils. My breath quickens.

One Slice. Three piece.
Her body slackens. Her beauty gone.

Death claims me once and forever more this night.
Beauty no longer suffocating.
Monica Chaloupka Dec 2010
I've got chaos up in my sky.
Lines of clouds floating in and out.
Some in the shape of tears I cry.
Becoming mere wisps when more come about.

Oh how I wish such clouds did not form.
They bring sadness and frustration.
Such things do not keep me warm.
In sneaks a cold into an empty station.
Monica Chaloupka Mar 2012
Drops of diamond dust upon our tounges.

Down a pinwheel of colors and images we travel,
changing our very being the further we delve.

Clenching our hands together through the intensity,
feeling safe within our shared love.

Forgetting everything so as to become omnipotent,
our eyes embrace as the peak looms ahead.

Only to feel drops of diamond dust,
upon our tongues and our limbs.

Life and love go on for eternity,
sprinkled in diamond dust.
Monica Chaloupka Apr 2013
Waking up today was a challenge.
By waking up the reality of life becomes real again.
No longer are you safe in dreams.
No longer are you able to control what happens.
Instead all the troubles and worries clamor to be heard.
All the pain of memories become all too real again.
Throughout the day one aches to go back to dreams.
To escape.
Monica Chaloupka Feb 2012
A woman up high falls,
in ones eyes.
Struggling to stand up,
from where she crashed.
Shoved down, down again,
by fleeting memories.
One leg is tediously firmly planted,
She raises up, up to her feet.
Suddenly she raises her face to the sky,
A mighty yell escapes from her,
filled with triumph and bitter sweet victory.
Monica Chaloupka Mar 2012
Walking down the path
Pitfalls become real
But true love prevails
Monica Chaloupka Sep 2010
Wandering close by
Light falls and vanishes
Sadly turned away
Monica Chaloupka Jan 2015
Limbo is an ever-shifting plane of existence.

Existing on the edge of worlds.

Each soul has a limbo as personal and unique as the beating of the heart.

The choice to stay forever in between, or break free from confinement,
is yours.
Monica Chaloupka Oct 2010
Reach up and up.
Standing upon tippy toes.
Stubbornly clinging to the edge.
Only to misstep, falling down and down.

Scream less and less.
Reaching towards anything.
Desperately flailing at nothing.
Only to crash land, breaking up and up.
This is not quite how I want it to be, but with me being a perfectionist I doubt it ever will be as most of my other works feel to me.
Monica Chaloupka Sep 2010
Words are passing through cracked lips.
Lips that have been poisoned day by day.
Days which are filled with her constant lies.
Lies that rip and tear and fall like broken glass.
Glass riddles the floor between her and I.
I turn my head aside in the end.
Endings are all that we have left.
Monica Chaloupka Mar 2010
Meddling little flies.
Flying over an open wound.
Maggots tearing away flesh
feeding their bottomless pit.

Eyes watch in resigned horror
as flies lay egg after egg that hatch
over and over.

'Is this what has become of me?
Something to be away and be
eaten by such lowly creatures?'

Bitter tears silently stream from her eyes.
Not for herself but tears for the living.

'You did what you thought was best,
but best for who? Your own indignation
was the ending of me.'

The buzzing of flies climbs to
an unbearable pitch.
Haunting sighs sound from
every pore of her body.

'You did this to me, you caused me to do this.
Do not ever forget that.'

She cries out as the maggots tear
in a frenzy at her body.

A lone fly meanders off.

— The End —