Core

The dream she kept was crooked being past

knotted into wasteful passion modestly yet insufficiently sure

knives splendid ly displayed dressed in mysterious ness

are fantasy longed for, futures’ denial, locked from

the spirals for ever growing outward toward the

possible, that perspective far removed from what once

were daggers drawn by un conscious demonic nemesis

now downperfectly burying conscious understanding,cathartically arising.

Look into her misery and stare without pain

do not share or worry, history echoes hollow

not vain, but meaning brought through time from

experience, meanings mostly made from panic and fear

Look adjacent at reality history echoing stories of

reality meaning nothing; Look, she through illusion cast

in awe to ward hated experience put away

the full strike off, she numbed out family,

eye contact, balance, fear; numbed for no thing.

Hard tight fisted fighting as her cheek grows

cold, touching fingers to cuts, blood tears down

like rain drops blast sting pools after storm

ice s in. Pride where are you? Where?

As he pain fully cut, filling drink glass

it splinters into pieces and his temper cracks

falls into coma of conscience, fist raising and

like pieces of conscience, free as anger bleeds.

She held her in her arm, whispering, no

more, no more, covering head and heart, surrender

likely, illusions recently killed raised threateningly above about

to slap, after her high humble screams butt

kick ed his ambition to submission, saying no

sense non sense, and then protected no more

by the less honour able her, more, she

care less ly, callous ly, whispering ‘she weeps’.