Shadows slumber as

The sun goes down

And I envy the peace

Surrounding me 

But my demons awaken

Resurrecting in darkness

Rising to attention and 

In a dialect of mania

Shout to me backwards

In written words and

Transcribed inscriptions

Interpreting meaning

Rushing from my 

Brain tissue unfolding from

The safety of sanity lost

Swaddling me in its depth 

And my theories bleed

Rectifying pain through 

Digestion and regurgitation 

Expressed and memorialized

In subliminal poetry spoken

By the voices in my head

Come dance with the devil,

hear his violin call,

the soulful beauty of its music,

calling one and all.

Coiling round your soul,

with his slender, twisting arms,

teasing and beguiling,

singing his woeful psalms.

He’s taking his curtain call,

as you gently start to weep,

waiting for the darkness,

your soul is his to keep.

I am sad

And drunk

And I fantasize

About suicide

A narcissist, but I know...

I know!

I am not alone

This too shall pass

And the sun...

It'll come out tomorrow

And I may feel better

Miming through

The motions of --

Real life

I am human

And so flawed

And sad

Life...

It weighs on me

Like denim soaked

In ocean water

The salt...

It stings

And I can't breathe.

Loving you was unbearable

But losing you...

It killed me

I want to get angry

Cuz pissed off is always better than sad

I should be mad

-about the theft of my child

-about the rejection of my parents

-about the silence from my brothers

-about the abandonment of the truest love I've ever felt

I want to feel the anger burn in me like fire

Fuel me into action to move off this couch

Rage that will ease this sorrow and fill the empty spaces left by those who once loved me

I'll find my Redemption in Rage

But it's not there yet

For now I'm still heartbroken

Sad. Empty. Alone.

I'm still wearing that long pink skirt

The one that clings to all my curves

I know you like the way it moves when I walk

I put it on late Thursday night

After we made love

I might not take it off ever again

You pulled it off me Friday as the sun rose

You tossed it on the floor with no regard

I wrapped my arms and legs around you

I wrapped you in feelings I can't express

One last time we climbed together, achieving

The highest peaks of pleasure

Only true love could bring such intense climax

I pray one day I'll be in your arms again

I picked my long pink skirt up off the ground

Slid it over my hips. The material softly clings the way you like

As I curled up on the couch with my legs tucked underneath, I noticed a tiny spot on my long pink skirt

A tiny stain that normally would gross me out and make me change. But on Friday morning I kept it on

I was wearing my long pink skirt when you walked out the door

And when your plane landed in your new life

I was wearing it last night when you called

Now it's Saturday afternoon and I'm waiting to hear from you

I'm in the same spot and the same clothes as when you left

I haven't taken a shower

I haven't brushed my hair

I have this stupid thought running through my head.

That right now I've got your scent on me

That the taste of you lingers still on me

And if I wash it off, that will be the end

So I sit in the same spot, in the same clothes

Falling into depression

I need more than just memories and superstitions and my OCD

I need to get up, get showered, get going

and throw this long pink skirt into the wash

But I won't, I know I won't, not until you call

We walk alone side-by-side

Wearing mink coats

And soft leather sandals

In an oil spill of egotism

Life is a stage!

Refreshing an unquenchable thirst

With icy bottled water

Like swallowing our dry pills

Washed down

By genetically modified dinners

We build mountains with garbage

Tanned D-deficiently by blank screens

Building dependencies with androids

Contingent on capitalized faux emotion

A juxtaposition of deeply in-touch out-of-touch

people

And we raise our children like foreign helicopters

Dressing them in glass helmets and knee pads

Everyone is numbed

To recreation (and relaxation)

We look out our foggy windows

on Spare the Air days

Planting chlorofluorocarbons

In a green house in the sky

And the rich get richer

Our children will raise more children

But only by selection

They will harvest them in tubes

Choosing only the crème de la crème

A generation of super-users forthcoming

Belongingness will be satisfied

In a virtual (wayward) world

An evolution of narcissism

The busiest isolated loners you will ever see

They will have virtual birthday parties

And tell folklore of old-school ghost stories

"...and before humans knew any better, they

played, 'Pin the Tail on the Donkey.'" [Gasp!]

MRE-esce cuisine will be the peak of indulgence

Desensitized to deforestation

And the drought of organic farming

And they will be senseless to oceans flooding

with human waste (floating on human error)

Children will learn about being an "individual" in

history books

Reinforcing the disconnection

With their alien ancestors...

(Continued in Week #19 Prose Challenge of the Week)