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Shadows of Reality
Folder:
The Rushing Stream of Desires
I have built my shrine to insecurity.
Laced it with peppermint and spice,
which is spinning sliding gasps of
pleasure in the darkness of the nice.
The rice is cooking on the stove.
IT is almost ready.
I litter my backyard with paper
dolls and hope I have built my
dreams into firm shadows of reality.
Slammed shut the eyes that maybe
can never again open,
forcing the coffee to grind
within the mental holes of my
drifting, weary limbs.
The ice is chopping in the freezer.
The cold is almost over.
I frost my cake with arsenic
and promises. I have streamed
a dream of countless eggs
in a bottle, fearing that
in the breaking, the rest of
the illusion would be shattered.
I was filled with doubt and
this somehow mattered despite
the pencils sharpened easily
in the light.
The rice is done and perhaps
so am I.
I coat my face with paint of
dungeon colour
A delightful write. Great
A delightful write. Great flow and very well put together. Nice read indeed.
Vive le Quebec libre!