I lost my fight, I release my fate, Now I am gone cold Lying on a steel bed; I will never cry again, I will never slit my pulse, No more blood stains on my sheets, No more smacking on my head— I was once in a battlefield But I never win the fight, Now I am cold And forever will close my eyes.
Pictures are nothing but captures of fiction; I'll burn them. Words spoken made perfect sense; I'll regret them. Truths are funny when they're spoken from the mouth of a liar; I'll laugh at them. Kisses with passion seem relevant when you love someone; I'll hate them. Every one who said you were good for me; I'll burn them.
Sylvia Plath commanded summer before last. Her voice in all places I looked. Avoided and silenced letters Crawled in front of my mind and knocked on my skull: A polite entry into their society with a family, Other words in Gregorian chant: You cannot undo insanity in the third decade.
I tell the others, the eyes around me, that these words Feel like birth announced just now, With no time to prepare or plan, to nest and caress The down feathery face, or kiss his tiny mouth.
A poem emerges with a scream, Bony hands encircling my throat and pushing Into formation. The existence of new words-- Always the ones in the language before, Though in this birth the roots twist under the tree.
When the walls are closing in I don’t know where to begin That old M.A.S.H theme song Ringing in my head A presentience of ~ You’re better off dead Those who are supposed to love me Abandon me in my time of need Persecute me, when I’m vulnerable Their evil shines ~ such wicked deed As more of me gets lost Here, I count the cost There are no avenues of hope To cling to No vision. No scope. No nightingale to sing to They leave me with nothing They revel in my despair Is there anyone genuine out there? Once again, I’m picking myself off the floor I simply cannot do it anymore My eyes dimmed and dry This world is not for me Where do I chose to die? I’m waiting by the sea....