EtherealOmega Feb 2016

Today is better than last night for now the delicate cords held within my throat do not refuse air its  passage through them for anything more than the oxygen it carries even though all I was wanting to do was scream.

Today is better than last night for now my sight is clear - free of the tears which could not fall due to the dam I built too high and too well who's retribution was to refract my guiding lights into nonsensical shapes which could offer no comfort.
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Today is better than last night for now the sharp daggers of keratin are not biting at my skin frantically trying to purify me of this rotting flesh which coats my bones,  and my mind is past   not being able to wrap its tendrils about the idea of people possibly loving this wretched creature I have become... Or perhaps it did wrap around that fragile concept but instead of absorbing it those vines of the rose garden of my mind stayed true to form and grew thorns to pierce and tear at the idea like my nails once did to this alabaster canvas while holding as tightly as doubt sometimes holds my lungs keeping me from breathing,  but this concept is more breakable then my lungs... And so it was crushed into stardust.  The same stardust that comprises or bodies because every element of our bodies is created within our guiding lights we wish upon. And I see that sparkle of stardust every day in each of your eyes. I see it in everyone's eyes.. except my own... And  it makes me wonder if maybe dad was right and some people are just made of a different type of dust.  A dust comprised from the ashes of hell itself which will forever smolder but never more catch aflame... The ashes filed with the agonies of those souls which lost themselves in the madness and feel into the eternal night.

Meant to be more of a spoken word poem versus a written poem, but I thought I'd put it on here anyways. I'd appreciate any input y'all might have some I'm not really sure if it's finished yet or not.

With time
names and dates
engraved on
headstones weather
beneath pelting
sleet and rain
to soften
carefully engraved
letters. Little by little
becoming rounded
at the edges
indistinct
less pronounced and
harder to read

Personality features
slowly dim
daily hidden
with words
structured into facades
readily available
as a cover from
those who wish to mine
the treasures within

What a struggle
to hide, to mute
to soften
eccentricities
into less
What an effort
continual concealment
behind frights and fears
as though a child playing
hide and go seek
with others

Self-effacement
becomes a life-style
of constantly playing
a game without a prize

First write in a long time.  I'm giving HelloPoetry another try

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