5th and Desert View

Folder: 
Shadow Variations.

This is the house of the wilted flower

the broken dream.



memories of what has been

have her bound and gagged,

without mercy,

images of fights and words

hang in the cobwebs.

the walls are silent watchers

witnessing, a cancer.



In their shelved mockery of innocence

dust gathers on the hair and dresses

of three dolls, one of them has a broken face,

(writer insinuates).



the truck with a broken wheel, next to

the drunken nutcracker and his menacing stare and white beard,

surrounded by German beer maid characters,

worn away, like the rug walking up the stairs

and into the hallway,

passed the piano with it's broken keys

and other memorial clutter of a traditional upbringing.



back in that room, things have happened,

i dont even want to imagine

it's just like drowning, the feeling.



so how can there be indulging?

it's just a question, without answers

life can be heard into whispers,

make no eye contact

submersed in fears,

itch the scab a little longer

perhaps,

it will start to bleed, for you-

Author's Notes/Comments: 

i wrote this in the living room of my good friend drews, disfunctional house of ill repute, there is underlying meaning, in between the lines, and unless you knew them or asked, you'd not understand~

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Athalia Lystra's picture

Sitting here this morning, skipping school for the like of staying up or out too late, drinking coffee so I may eventually find my way to the books, I stumble upon something that is you and your style to a T. It appears to make me guilty for not going to class in the sense that I will miss out learning how to write like this. On the other hand it makes me more than glad I read it for now I know. Everything in here makes me want to cry. Everything about you as the writer makes me want to smile. Your beauty and talent are immense.
This was so profound I’m finding it difficult to express myself in words (ironically enough) but I think the idea that this is true and tangible makes it a masterpiece all on it’s own.
We should, one day perhaps, write together…

CHRISTIE FELTY's picture

i have read this one several times and each time i hope to feel different- but i don't and i don't think i will. you know the "visions" or " feelings" i told you about- when i read these words? well this one is intense, some of it feels like it is not about someone else at all. i feel the pain behind the words and the vision is not pretty either. but you let it all out freely my love, such naked emotion.
god , i love it- not the pain-the talent.
your biggest fan-
-baby girl