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Steven Sanchez Oct 2014
This may seem a bit forward and
I do not mean to shake the ground beneath you
Or reshape the silver lines in the clouds that paint your sky
But you fascinate me
To have lived so many years in such a short time
Has left a fire in your eyes that burns
To rival the sun in a sublime glow
This may seem a bit forward but I
Just thought that you should at least know
If you could see from where I stand
Each strand of your auburn locks
Falls then slows to a hang
And holds your own brand of empowered beauty
Sorry if this scares in any way
But I feel it my duty to say
That you fascinate me
Separate me from the ghost I used to see
Staring blankly from my bathroom mirror
Where I once stood just left of center
From where I now stand
In awe of the shadow you cast
So brightly on the path
I swear I used to walk the line
Drawn in the sand by the hand of the divine
Before I found out it was only a crack
In the pavement
Where I stand
Fascinated
Captivated by the words you share
Intoxicated and in disrepair
From where I stand
The horizon smears your name
In a blur of orange and purple
And those wavy auburn strands.
Steven Sanchez Oct 2014
I am no longer the battlefield
The rapture is in my hands
I am the space between rain drops
I am the air, the sea, and land
I am the dragon that exhaled
The smoke to make the clouds
No longer do I dredge through sands
Adorned in burial shroud
I am time and I have created all that I see
Right now is forever
And with a blink I can erase history
As though yesterday was never

I am an illusion
All that is you claim to see
Is only there if you perceive it to be
But it isn’t there and nor are you
Becoming less aware
Only my sight can make you whole
You are not the flesh you wear
I was conceived inside a dream
I am the new creator
Creating dreams you cannot see
Because I am saving them for later

The rapture is in my child’s tears
Frozen in a broken heart
The softest and most fragile things
Can tear my inner worlds apart
There is still life here in still-life
When we wake, the sand turns into stone again
The flame’s becoming cold again
And you cannot breathe under water
Only because you don’t believe you can
I am eternal and I have found home
Where each second lasts for hours
And forever never counts past one
Time ticks in the bloom of a flower
Learn to measure life by moments
Not by dollars or by minutes
When life begins at every breath
The past becomes irrelevant.
This is an excerpt from "The Acid Oasis: The Journal of Adrian Blackraven" by Steven Sanchez.
Steven Sanchez Oct 2014
I have sent a drop of rain that you will get some time tomorrow
Two inside a paper cup just to drown away your sorrow
Another drop upon the heart that I now seek to borrow
Three more frozen with the words we kept holding to the morrow
I'll send a drop of rain for each tear that you have wept
One at a time to ease the pain of promises made but never kept
So save the water inside jars, my garden ceiling is turning gray
Each blade of grass a glass-like shard since the day I went away.

In the absence of light, she sang to me a lyric
We had both been awake, but I could barely hear it
And although she was desperate, no sound was left heard
Through her quivering lips, never uttered a word
I listened for hours, as the sun scorched the earth
Until night fell upon us and the moon came to birth
Every dream that we shared, the *** and the violence
She now carries despair and that gut-wrenching silence
Memory of her faded as time grew less relevant
And years fled in the spires of light with no end
I will never know of the things she had said
But I felt them sink into where I lay with the dead.
Steven Sanchez Oct 2014
One night I lost sight
Of you long before I fell
Under a spell of mistrust
No longer to the right
Of your still and quiet corpse
Wishing for just a little more
More of what you’re not
What you could never be
What you refused to give
To someone like me
So I screamed aloud for what became a year
Barely making a sound
Because no one ever came near
Now whispers crash in waves of echo
And a thunder none can hear
Still not drowning out
The fear that this is not a dream
Until you wake up
You cannot see all that I've seen
In the hour that I dreamt
To find myself alone again
Still not quite sure what it all meant.
This is an excerpt from The Acid Oasis: The Journal of Adrian Blackraven by Steven Sanchez
Steven Sanchez Oct 2014
I am anatomically correct
But atomically, a mess
I am chaotic and undressed
One hundred thousand bricks
Comprised of tiny pieces all compressed

I am a prison for little hollow ghosts
That push until pulled
While I am standing here still
And they climb to the top where they come to a stop
At a grave on a cemetery hill

She fills up the air
With soft falling notes
That burst from her eyes
And dance with the ghosts by the light that once burned
To the song of the Seraphim's sigh

Bring to me a pair of aces
Smiling faces and a cup of coffee
Empty spaces and her heart
Torn from the tearing
Of teeth gnashing, eyes glaring
As I stand here still playing my part
Her music my magic
A cage for the tragic
And the life I've been too scared to start

She used to sing to the storm
With her outstretched right arm
Lines forming from rain that would spill
Yearning to feel something other than real
The night she plunged into the cemetery hill

A call to order is sounded
The drummer pounds for attention
As I'm fixed on the light on the sea
The full moon's reflection is my insurrection
When still burns the fire
In her eyes, I aspire to be
Lifted into the air, without worry or care
Take these ghosts from my bonds and set free
For the chains of despair, when I was made to wear
Sank me into the depths of the sea
But I can now take to flight
On the might of the light
She burns brightly if only for me.
Steven Sanchez Oct 2014
Turning his head to the blur of color
Through an open window to feel
Alive despite the death of summer

The side view mirror reflecting hindsight
Her gaze could only be an assumption
In a torrent of flashing white

She could be his forever
A chance encounter in a passing lane
Or a little respite from late summer's weather

Finishing her sentences in his head
He will never lay beside her
Holding onto a dream in an otherwise empty bed

Into the silk of a stranger
The smell of a shampoo woven
A dance not shared and nothing left to linger

A name he would never know
As she sped past the light
Ignoring the quiet red glow.
Steven Sanchez Oct 2014
16
Raised among the ruins
Of your apathy
In the wake of disaster
Shackled to a fallen pillar
In this town I've come to call Here After
In a world you stripped of color
Dragged into the cellar
With a plateful of food and some old clothes
Is there a bridge you haven't burned?
Every stone was left unturned
But then, you never needed any proof
As the truth seldom left you burdened
But left me burning under my sixteenth sun
I was once your second son
Left to wander fallow fields
The broken and forsaken one
Staring down the barrel of an empty gun
You taught me nothing
Except how to hate myself
With the whole of my heart
Like you did
Abandoned at the shore of your icy veins
Left to wither in the absence of summer's rain
With a plateful of food and some old clothes
Consider this a eulogy
Because you will never again hear from me
By now we've come to know
That I was born your enemy
Dear mother, I'm sure you still don't miss me
I cannot remember when last you kissed me
And meant it.

— The End —