Trapped in death scenes
while screaming for a love
to find me
as I float
thru the melancholic music
of Bosch’s picture vitrola.
I stumble along the obscene path
of madness
cursing the blossoming roses
that never have
the time of day for me
and laugh as I wallow
in a darkness of despair.
I can forgive the madness
of the fallen night
sullied by desolation
but I wonder
if I’ll ever be able to forget.
August 29, 1987
I'd Be Afraid
To look at what I wrote at 21. The world view was soooooo different :D
I find it interesting because
I find it interesting because I try to remember my state of mind and what I was thinking when I wrote it. Of course my perspective is very different. I wasn't paying attention but I managed to get old.