Ashley
Bluelight Crew
Winter Animal
I find this monster I have become,
insufferable, so deliberate but rare.
Wasting nothing but a fragment of a
moment upon the waves of time. Destructive
yet constructive, but only in evil ways, as I play
with raw emotions, juggling them like toys.
I cannot escape this creature that I've become,
so I scratch about for bullets to load
my imaginary gun. Where is it you have gone?
And why now, that alone I face the darkness?
The shadows in the corners are but my only friends,
and they stay after hours. Selfishly I hang on to my
shallow, precious, breaths, despite the finely
crafted invitation lying upon my desk. Beckoning
my premature death. Creating reason, where
there is none. Running down the halls naked,
like a ghost chasing the insanity away. There in
the shadowed corners, I have learned to embrace
the melancholy reckoning of foul tasting shame.
Having let go of my hand and torn off into the
distortion of unknown days, with a pair of cold
and foreign fingers tightening with grace. Did you
plan this disaster? Or think about it after, all
of our dreams became shattered, our windows once
filled with glass. I've never shed so many tears,
nor been entirely consumed with fear, just utterly
destroyed by your crafty magical potion that put
a bookmark between my emotions. So many unseen tears,
lie underneath a methane ocean, in this bitter cold October.
A.
I find this monster I have become,
insufferable, so deliberate but rare.
Wasting nothing but a fragment of a
moment upon the waves of time. Destructive
yet constructive, but only in evil ways, as I play
with raw emotions, juggling them like toys.
I cannot escape this creature that I've become,
so I scratch about for bullets to load
my imaginary gun. Where is it you have gone?
And why now, that alone I face the darkness?
The shadows in the corners are but my only friends,
and they stay after hours. Selfishly I hang on to my
shallow, precious, breaths, despite the finely
crafted invitation lying upon my desk. Beckoning
my premature death. Creating reason, where
there is none. Running down the halls naked,
like a ghost chasing the insanity away. There in
the shadowed corners, I have learned to embrace
the melancholy reckoning of foul tasting shame.
Having let go of my hand and torn off into the
distortion of unknown days, with a pair of cold
and foreign fingers tightening with grace. Did you
plan this disaster? Or think about it after, all
of our dreams became shattered, our windows once
filled with glass. I've never shed so many tears,
nor been entirely consumed with fear, just utterly
destroyed by your crafty magical potion that put
a bookmark between my emotions. So many unseen tears,
lie underneath a methane ocean, in this bitter cold October.
A.
