On My Own

On a cobbled, stone path,

standing wind-struck in bare thought.

Bound by an unseen fist on my shoulders;

The hooks that carve me hollow.

Wings take form and spread my thought-

whispering winds that issue

from the willows I'm perched upon

vicariously.



The wind releases within me

a spirit that soars under to carry me distances

I've never dreamed before.

The black and sordid nature of my flight

Sinks deep into my skin and

I'm permeated with the essence of the night.



The piercing eyes that soar;

my mind's eye.

Gazing crimson and crooked

on the ground into the heart

of every person below

With shadowy intent

in their dreams, stalking quietly

behind their minds.



Listening like a silent killer

as they smile for a lust that grows deep

Living for every moment

that was not theirs to keep,

Poisoning them so that

I'd know we were different

and I could step away from that

and say I was alive.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

Written 01-01-01
Edited 07-13-2006

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Netta Jack's picture

Loved the flow and the metaphors. The message is inspiring. And I loved your quote too. Thanks for sharing.