Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Michael Mar 2018
Fires at midnight, Oceans of black light
Visions
Infecting my dreams with those Faery Tale wishes
And I start to wonder
What makes it real?
How can I know
When true love draws near?
Time is so tortuous, waiting and wanting
Hourglass spun backwards, Sand flowing upwards
Higher and higher
Into endless oblivion

Constellations, Revelations
Struggling for a bit of patience
Those lonely times when I
Stare at the sky
Squinting hard to see the future
A shooting star can’t give the answer
But maybe it could bring some luck
I search
For my reflection in the mirror
But I’m lost forever
On the other side

A touch of power, the Witching Hour
Destiny singing
In the aqua moonlight
But what if destiny
Goes astray?
When the opportunity passes by
And that one person before our eyes
For weeks or years we never realize
Till every moment’s gone away
One chance at magic
And the spell fails

Castles come crashing, dreams go on dying
Clouds keep amassing, no silver lining
I’m sometimes afraid
There’s no fate at all
No magic
No meant to be; No cards
It’s not written in the stars
Just an empty illusion
Teasing with its taste of Heaven
A perfect impression
Of nothing at all

Lightning and pain, Tears in the rain
Those shattered promises cast from above
What of True Love?
The kind that turns your soul inside out
With desperate longing
Rips apart your sense of belonging
Endlessly keeping you
Awake at night, dreaming all day
Panic stabbing when it might be lost
Joy erupting when it might be real
Is there no such thing?

Crescent full spun, eclipsing the Sun
Am I the only one?
There must be someone out there
Who never
Looks the future in the face
Who listens for the sweetest whisper
Who always feels a bit out of place
There must be, somewhere, some way
But Somewhere isn’t on my map
And no calendar is marked with Someday
And I can’t really know

It’s all just foolish scheming
Thinkful wishing, Star-lit dreaming
And I’m tired, lost without a prayer
And I’m tired of the game
Cause games
Are only fun for those who don’t care
But I know there’s someone out there
Just beyond the Misty Lane
And I shudder, now I dare think it’s true
That maybe it’s you
Maybe it’s you
carbonrain Mar 2017
Their souls had spoken. Rushed off into adventure fueled by mania without first breaking the ice. These talks were between new friends. Altogether anchored by deathless subjects, they deliberated naively over a shared *** of bone apple tea. The glass was broken, but this was no emergency - just heavy words minced by chattering teeth.

Hesitating only slightly, they took a death pledge. “I’m bad and it’s not worth it,” she said. “You’ll be disappointed by me too, and I’ll bet my life on it,” he returned. They chuckled sheepishly. “You’re going to miss this too”, sang the younger sibling.

Of course, their conversation was purely conjecture, subject matter the victor of a game of happenstance, mutilated in transcription, like notes copied over the shoulder from someone else’s lecture.

Still, he hoped it didn’t matter, and without hope, it didn’t matter. Perhaps this was merely thinkful wishing. “I was a single digit, a gorilla in a concrete jungle,” his words seemed to suggest. “A flightless bird makes good food for thought. Fight or flight, fight the good fight. Always choose your battles wisely, and never speak in absolutes.” she recommended.

“It’s got to be somewhere; everything’s somewhere, but, everywhere else is not here.” he wondered. She could read between the lines; and left to write. “Stop being ungrateful and just close your eyes.” She closed the door, and he opened a window. Then, like some thinly sliced avocado that didn’t quite make the cut, he fell asleep.
“Age but a number”
if only that were true
Yesterday reborn again
— memories renewed

(Dreamsleep: February, 2024)


Moments Beyond Time

In search of fresh meat
the future will come
Hour predestined
the hunt zero sum

As seconds approach
impending attack
Free every moment
—time dead in its tracks


(The New Room: February, 2024)


Why

Why isn’t God
transcending
my doubt
Each day more distant
the louder
I shout
Why can’t the Lord
acknowledge
my pain
The light
growing dimmer
— the more I proclaim

(Dreamsleep: February, 2024)

— The End —