|Blogs > WKress > excerpts from The Black Bookz|
On the wings of eloquence I drink the night.
Manipulating the tired sighs of my stuffed companions.
Nothing is new as time keeps slowly bleeding.
Like fresh paint glistening on a pretend smile.
Lovingly, I’ve cornered my nastiest dispositions.
The comic-book surreality of every flashing moment.
Brilliant and indifferent to all our lost souls.
Gathered about the dreary table as silent wraiths.
A mournful celebration for my dark motives.
As tiny specks drippingly become dark, crimson pools.
Resembling the spilled occasions of my dawning.
Quietly, I conspire against my extravagant illusions.
Pushing aside the duality of slighted reason.
Nuzzling my faint hopes with professional courtesies.
I look upon the finished array of our mad feasting.
The unpicked bones shine like Celtic runes.
They gain the attention of our silent adversary.
Closing upon the remnants of my final memories.
My lips brush and sip from the clear, crystal goblet.
Swallowing my fears that this is something more.
From down the table, the mumble of stirred resting.
Smiling, I remember the dark simile’s fond embrace.
3/17/2007 10:03 am
not too sure my dream-this one is unusual but kinda reminds me of you at the round table feeding your companions and listening to all their complaints in life,, but not sure if all is good.like i said not really following this one.but knows you wrote it for a reason will read again till i get it...kisses|