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Patricia Drake May 2013
I seek darkness
and blood
for balance
I want to breathe in fluids
and
to drown myself
in beauty
so I need shades
for depth
perception
I seek out shadows
distorted versions
of light
without which I am frightened
and blind
to its shapes

I seek pain
in visions
vivid illuminations
of horror
of second hand experiences
to shoot through my system
for dopamine kicks
that allow me to cry
and long
for reality's release
Patricia Drake May 2013
I keep sound
hearts
the subtle beats of footsteps
and laughter filling halls
with echoes
and light
making their eyes glow
in sync
with the rhythm
of their own revelations

Their dreams
and imaginary eternities
I use
to paint
in letters
and mirrors
on imaginary canvases
contructions
in a backlit simulation
of reality
Patricia Drake May 2013
Sleeping
In colour and light
I dream of wings
And speaking with God
Until daybreak

Waking
In a different landscape
A burning pain
Between my shoulders
And blood dripping
Trails
Along my spine

I rise
This is not my time
To leave
Patricia Drake Apr 2013
huge fires
start in your toes
but reach
much higher
Patricia Drake Apr 2013
I am Jeanette
I am a mother
A redhead
A wife and a daughter
A teacher
A sister
A friend

I am a graduate
A sinner
A master
An artist
A narcissist
A debitor

I am a liar
A creator
A linguist
A learner
I am a killer
An amateur
A model
A protector

I am Jeanette
I am a dragon
I am a devil
I am a woman
I am a mystery

I am Jeanette
I am a poet
Patricia Drake Apr 2013
For her
he had spent all his time
building that perfect house
his brothers had all chipped in

We had children helped pick wallpaper
tiles, curtains, floors
it was all perfect
even the street name denoted idyl

It was summer when we moved in
we loved that house immensely
but she, my mother
did not move in
we would visit her over the weekend
at his best friend's house
our house was sold
with loss
to everyone
Patricia Drake Apr 2013
flickering
flittering
thoughts like butterflies
tinkering
tampering
with my mental state
shimmering
slithering
serpentine dreams of
tippety
tapping
words on the page
like beautiful
bubbles of
thoughtful babble
rattle
rant
but I can't
thoughts are butterflies
and they fly
they defy
me
when I try
to catch them
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