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Sun, April 3, 2016 6:37 AM

|19/08/2010|

An Island Inside A Furnace

She had left …
The peace that makes my ocean to stop mourning;
Blinding the darkness in my courtship sun.
Falling winds have trespassed my soul!
A sadness is draining my portraits:
Air-finished lungs, clean-slated head.
Like a scared dust, cut off from the rest of the shining dirt.
I’m fixed like a heartbroken parable.
“May suicide commit thee” Me?
My life for the taking. It’s freshness is gone.
Take my name; it can no longer protect me.
“Free men! free men!” (My hates are rejoicing.)
The enemy won’t mind anymore;
Because this is the story they’re telling.
In this rubble of my troubles: ending my happy beginning!
‘Tis the lie I am willing to kill – not a game?
I’m like a trafficking shame.
There’s no meaning in my reasoning.
I can’t resurrect my dreams. They’ve gone cold!
She left…me – poor me.