PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

And I wept by the fire screaming brutalities
There is no consolable delight that can find me
There is no moon that can rise high enough from me
No shadow in the Earth that I can hide from

It is like death

And I have seen death.
The first time I was 12, and the last time was
not so long ago
It's the strange island in the eyes and
they have seeped up again to face me

I tell you, I have seen things
I have seen a room change into an execution
An ax slicing through cerebral tissue
I have felt a movement in matter that is unexplainable

And you want to know the root of my nature

My roots had crawled up to the top of
that chimney where
it read 1792 and they
crawled back down into a madwoman's lap
I had to brush away the vines to believe it,
but it's true
She still lives in that upstairs bedroom and
her cold fingers still hoover over my awkward
silhouette in the dark

You've got to know,
that I have cheated death for a very long time
I have tasted the black rose and
stroked its long stem

Yet nothing happens

It is no secret that I am that
same woman,
stark mad and brutal
The epitome of every scream and
chaos
the black pitted abyss of emptiness

Do not come near me