in the end, i’ll be

f r e e

my reality

birthed from the tar

soaking my bones and

drowning my lungs in

fear, 

      fear, 

            fear

in the end, i’ll be

f o u n d

my resound

voiced from the ache

haunting my heart and

gutting my soul with

hurt, 

      hurt, 

            hurt

in the end, i will

f a d e

my masquerade

come to a close,

breaking the mold and

reflecting my life in

truth, 

        truth, 

                truth

in the end, i will

s e e

the real me

from beyond the thoughts

plaguing my mind and

veiling my eyes with

black, 

        black, 

                black

in the end, i’ll be

free, i’ll be

found

and i’ll fade

when i see that 

in the end, 

it doesn’t 

              even 

                     matter.

Somehow, she surrounded sand's symphonic sound, surpassing serenity, surpassing speech. She spoke soundlessly, stars started shifting, seas shallow, saffron skies. Somehow, she sang solemnly, seismograms shivering, segregating stellar systems. Somehow, solace settled, solitude subdued; surreal sanctuary sustaining serendipity's soul. So she succeeded sibylline, serene, sending somewhere some sentient salute; she saluted society, stretching science's strands, steadfast, slow, stillness. 

She took my heart and took the dog

And took my favorite hat

She took the car and half my socks

And even took the cat

She took the lint from out my pockets 

Took the tiled floor

She even took my toothbrush

And the handle off the door

She took her time to take each light bulb

Out my favorite lamp

She took my old Nintendo

And my brand new Cadillac

She took my two-ply toilet tissue

Took my new shampoo

She took my T-Ball trophies 

And my plastic pink Kazoo

She took the carpet off the floor 

And paint from off the walls

She took my softest pillow

And my oldest overalls

She took my can of Dapper Dan

And took my PBR

She took my fancy plasma screen

And took my DVR

She took my bread and butter

And she took the master key

She took the toaster oven

And my Kenny G CD

So now I sit and wonder

In this empty house, I think

Of how she must still love me

Because she left the kitchen sink

Not to post back-to-back about it, but this is an exception:

We joined forces with Seattle Refined to commemorate & celebrate the life and lyrics of Soundgarden legend Chris Cornell with a new writing challenge. 

If Chris Cornell touched you, write about it. Share your story, poem, tribute, anything about him. We will be putting together a book for the Cornell family, of the posts entered. All proceeds from additional copies purchased will be donated to suicide prevention. The most shared post will be read on air and posted on seattlerefined.com

Go to Seattle Refined in Portals to enter and read. 

Thanks for stopping to read this. Go write.

-Prose.