Tuesday, July 08, 2008


Category: Issue 13


silence in the night
coming from inside,
the beating gives up
and the light never comes,

slipping into shadows,
the fear,
the relief,
the belief,
miserably meant nothing.

to be wrong,
the festival of spirits on the other side welcoming me, no longer ugly, shunned, blind,
now one of their kind, the passed-on but not forgotten, reminded in nightly picture shows where we watch the living go through the throes of existing,
every one another horror flick, then to retire to our death’s bed glad we were no longer there, up on the screen,
yet still waking in the night screaming from dreams dreading that we might still be living,
falling back to slumber in the rest of no worries, all of us unhurried,
the ever grateful dead.

calm in the night,
echoes hollow inside,
the whispers unwind,
and lightness of nothing comes.

smiling in shadows,
the relief,
the belief,
the fear,
blissfully means nothing.

Posted by doprava on 07/08 at 02:17 PM | Permalink
(0) Comments

« BIO-JESUS      Black Cow, a novel by Magdalena Ball »