The moon is casting,
Light upon the floor.
Where I lay waiting,
Waiting,
For the knock upon the door.

For men in suits,
With ******* boots,
Who will take me away for sure.

Because the moon is casting,
Light upon the blood stained floor.
Where I lay beside him grinning,
Grinning,
Beside my husbands corpse.

I stumbled through the cold dark streets, the wind caressing
My bare, blue skin.
I am exhausted, barely standing as the ****** is near.
I kneel before a riveting sight - the gleams of the dim moonlight
Cast its rays upon a bed of flowers.
The pallid petals brush my skin as I gasp for air.

It is frozen.

A symphony plays - my final chords
The songs of the angels of oblivion
As they sing in unison
Their unspoken words.
The haunting melody of a soprano chills my fractured spine.

My head hurts.

In this artificial world of selfish habits.
Her intentions were laid bare.
Stinging sensations linger as she laid her eggs in my head.

Merely an empty shell of her former self
She cut the roots that held her in place.
Desperate struggles,
Unanswered screaming,
Crawling her way towards me.

This was merely a realm I created,
An illusion I cast as the rose-tinted vision turned grey.
There is no light where the sun never existed.

The eggs hatch as I lay writhing in pain
The once vivid flowerbed drowning in blood and tears
As a monster laid motionless in front of me.
Where the moonlight once cast its light on but a barren field.

It is inside of me.

Tempo grave, sempre sospirando

An inner nocturne
When I am writing my own opus
The ink stains carress my hand
Crossed out lines, struck down

I am my own symphony
The sad tones of E flat minor
Paint the walls of this chamber a naive black
It creases the sheet music that I play

The resonating chamber within its thorny grasp
Keep my hands from playing
As the melancholic tones
Play their song on their own


#


The piano plays
I         yet
  have
     to
       compose


The piano GLEAMS
Something


The piano SINGS
that    keeps    me


||: The piano LINGERS
From             choking
         myself


The piano SUFFERS
In an             eternal
         embrace

The   p i a n o   SCREAMS :||
The   p i a n o   CHOKES
The   p i a n o   DIES
the
      p i a n o

Of              needles
and             thorns

D.S. Al fine, senza repetizione