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Entranced | Dissolute | Grandmother | Spiders | Whispers of Soldiers
Sigh softly into velvet sheets,
Listening to the rhythmic beating,
The flesh drums perfectly molded,
Unprotected to human engineering.
The key to continual life in this decaying shroud.
Open eyes to the blue dawn.
Shafts of light filtering through,
Sky lights and windows so simply placed,
Casting enchanting shadows across the face,
Who lies next to you in calm sleep.
Eyelashes flicker across cheeks,
Rapid movements behind eye lids.
Thoughts of dreams filter through the mind,
Pondering what is causing the lips to up-turn,
To hold the dream so peacefully.
In mornings all look unburdened,
Relaxed, and at rest.
On dark nights all look stressed,
Worried and restless.
The unconscious mind enjoys its time in control.
Brush stay locks away from the forehead,
Mesmerized by the earthy beauty,
Wrapped in the velvet and light.
The stray potted exotics laying carelessly around,
Warping the pre-morning atmosphere in serenity.
Sigh softly into velvet sheets,
Shift into comfort and close your eyes,
Know there is a warm body next to you,
A union among chaos, a union of flesh.
Match heart beat to heart beat,
And drift off to the symphony of drums.
Th-thump. Th-thump. Th-thump.
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Tear through time.
Sharpening the knife to cut into
The space around your body.
Leave the rules of the life and create your own.
Believe of possibilities.
Dive head first into the portal of dreams.
The lake of eternity.
Wash up on the shores of Imagination and shed your disease.
Welcome the calm.
Embrace the future in this world of your creation.
Spend moments of time adjusting and advancing.
Moving and changing.
Make yourself as you want to be.
Mold the shape of your personality.
Sow together the tear in the fabric.
Then, breathe.
In, out.
In.
Out.
Welcome back to the land of the living.
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Quiet nights are filled with rocking.
The soft swaying of old wooden hips,
In the warm breeze of a summer night.
The empty embrace melancholic to memories.
Years ago nights similar with moonbeams,
Were filled with conversation and laughter.
Filled with harmony, with contentment,
With companionship.
Her lonely embrace was once filled.
A mother and child at rest,
A grandmother watching her young,
A wife soothing her swollen belly.
In the winter freeze her wooden body,
Sat next to the fire, rocking chilled bones.
Sighing softly with ware and weight,
Content to be surrounded by warmth.
She remembers finer days.
When she was rooted with her mother,
When she was blessed by beams of gold,
And tears of above.
She remembers days of pain.
When she was ripped away,
When she was torn apart,
And put together smaller, weaker, fragile.
And yet she remains, stronger.
Old and weary, years of life beyond her maker,
Continuing to rock with his line,
Children to adults to children to adults.
She knows of cycles.
She watched her young,
Watches the continuation of life,
And reminisces.
Evening are filled with soft swaying,
A gentle rocking on wooden hips,
A body made with care, old with age,
Filled with memories of her surroundings.
A sage, wise and earthly.
A god among mortals.
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Is it in the absence of sleep,
In the middle of a quaking moment,
Where your mind malfunctions,
And your imagination takes control.
Where we daydream
The image we must have created,
To the outside world,
With our now present
Absent minded glazed eyes and slack jaw,
With a small trail of drool
Trekking down the corner of our mouth,
To our chin to either be wiped off,
If we awaken from our moment of restart,
Or continue its journey along our skin,
Until it is displaced to another environment,
So far away from it,
But a bend for us,
That we finally find our self
In the lies that we have webbed,
Tangling our soul or subconscious body in.
And there amongst the web lies,
Still intact is our innocence,
Which we had thought was lost
To the cruel environment surrounding us (of our lives).
With morbid fascination,
In our restricted position,
Our hands reach to the stings of lies
And watch as we pull; tightening the grasp
Our lies have upon our innocence.
Then as if our innocence was indeed its own entity,
It struggles against the restraints,
Indubitably restricting its mobility little by little,
Until it has weaved the web of lies around its frame
And lies still, lost and bound.
Your eyes, that watched with curiosity,
The tragic end of our innocence,
Are older now,
Bruised deep within the flesh.
Deeper into the depth of your eyes,
In the center lies your soul still tangled,
However now mangled and scarred.
Older and cautious.
Then in the height of your growth,
You are jarred,
Restart complete,
And mind now once again functioning.
Our soul and innocence long forgotten,
As we make our way through the day.
And we look back,
In a moment of quiet,
The few seconds of today,
That seemed like lifetimes,
All tangled into a few moments,
And you wonder what it was,
That made your eyes look so dead
In the mirror that holds your reflection.
Maybe not all is lost,
Your innocence thinks
Buried and bound,
Engulfed in lies.
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This is all that it begins with.
Slowly follow the sounds
Echoing off foam walls
Laden with the memories of fallen souls.
Chase after the last echo
And stand still straining
To hear the call again.
The whimper of sorrow
Ingrained into the souls
Long gone and forgotten.
Ashes of voices screaming
Tear away at the edges of the foam walls
So deceiving in their white purity and soft touch.
Stains of what use to lie
In their halls still drip
And soil the fabric of this prison.
Dust to ashes, bones to sand,
Blood to grim and in this land
Of snow-white foam and echoing silence,
Listen hard to the stories they tell.
Dreams shatter and bodies break.
Minds fall victim to time and pain.
Hearts bruise and eyes cloud.
All can harm and all can help.
Sleep later and keep awake.
Savor all you can of this land of mortals,
For the scythe is cocked and the blade is sharp.
In the end, all you have is blank silence (in foam walls).
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AUTHOR NOTES:
Kira is a freshman Marylhurst student right out of high school. A 19 year old who gathers inspiration from people and events surrounding her. Loves works by Alice Walker, Poe, and Poppy Z. Brite.
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