deepundergroundpoetry.com
Inclined Mania ( Anemone Coronaria )
The red seems all the more fun when it's pouring from my own vessel, being held in the fabric of my white bed until it turns a sickly brown as a reminder that I once bled deep under the sheets in which I sometimes like to take pleasure of an image or two, something I may never have which would be love.
Erotic walls of black lace and frilled white fall away and you must see me, see the me that is a ghost who only wants the darkness to be my only friend with the fictional glow of the brick when I stare for far too long. Why does that happen? Is it normal to hallucinate light forming around bricks in your wall or to even think that if you don't hurt yourself the light is going to come and kill you?
Polar opposites yet we are the same person, the fact that sometimes I am not Alice, I am the Red Queen scares me because it is those times you find me screaming and curled within myself under my sheets, waiting for your arms to huddle me close together and put be back as one.
As night turns to early morning and the voices die down into a slumber I find myself unable to sleep and so the demons get to play games with me, though my dear brother won't be there to help me back to reality like I am for him, I must play.
Low tide I stand up on my bed when water rushes over the cement and my hand doesn't shake, the strings singing sweet harmony from the body of the greatest creation I may know of, the high tones matching the low tones when my hair falls out of place and I get lost in the bubbling music yearning to scream and screech with a sudden twist of my hand.
The electrical current of my violin is my only savior when brother isn't around, the strings being the only cords I cut when there is no knife, the bow being the only real thing in this ocean forest.
I am the Anemone Coronaria.
Disappearance of hope.
Erotic walls of black lace and frilled white fall away and you must see me, see the me that is a ghost who only wants the darkness to be my only friend with the fictional glow of the brick when I stare for far too long. Why does that happen? Is it normal to hallucinate light forming around bricks in your wall or to even think that if you don't hurt yourself the light is going to come and kill you?
Polar opposites yet we are the same person, the fact that sometimes I am not Alice, I am the Red Queen scares me because it is those times you find me screaming and curled within myself under my sheets, waiting for your arms to huddle me close together and put be back as one.
As night turns to early morning and the voices die down into a slumber I find myself unable to sleep and so the demons get to play games with me, though my dear brother won't be there to help me back to reality like I am for him, I must play.
Low tide I stand up on my bed when water rushes over the cement and my hand doesn't shake, the strings singing sweet harmony from the body of the greatest creation I may know of, the high tones matching the low tones when my hair falls out of place and I get lost in the bubbling music yearning to scream and screech with a sudden twist of my hand.
The electrical current of my violin is my only savior when brother isn't around, the strings being the only cords I cut when there is no knife, the bow being the only real thing in this ocean forest.
I am the Anemone Coronaria.
Disappearance of hope.
Published 5th Sep 2011
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
likes 2
reading list entries 0
comments 0
reads 812
Commenting Preference:
The author encourages honest critique.
