In December leaves shall fall upon a shrivelled pine
cone. Water cracks the soil. My last nightmare smelled
like paint, remounting up inside my face. Spreading
like the oil. Gentle wind blows upon my knees, slithering
inside my sleeve. Covering like a skin. By the window
I can see December strangling all the trees. Silent I stand.
Life’s river flowed fast and pleased between her pharms
and dancing steps. Pain crawled upon her white skin
Mother talked about a trek. In the court dolls in a second
fall in love and then, with all their straight, cracking plastic
flesh and split up for a nonsense. Mother told her not to be
scared. The wind just like a torment: there’s no way
to rest. The shelter was wept. No straw or pine needle could
fix that nest. Mercy of a wind blow: a dead dove’s buried
by the leaves. The river of sickness start to flow. The
river of life was frozen and still. And still was time, as the
genesis of a gangrenous refusal of life as long as venomous
Mother told her to being forget. Something like privation
in her unsuitable formation. Unexpected violation, former
self abjuration, the hiding curtains of her exploration.
Cute dress close in the closet, the memory must be
erased. She try to forget but thorns are hard to remove
One end is the beginning of remission and forgiving
fear reveals the double nature I’d hid by the salvation process.
“Seems tooday when you laughed with her
Can’t belive that you really dared too much her. And what
is more you run away justifying to yourself when you
debauched her.
Finding all the time anything to think when you kill what
remains of both your normality.
(intimacy, luxury, selling two souls, why on earth none knows
memory, memory, memory, screams)
Digression: time slips upon her skins almost twenty years
between the hell of pills and anorexy.
Time slips upon his life across the bridge of rancour, the
land of squalor and candour driven to suicide.
“I can’t ignore my fault, my horrid sin. I can’t close the
chapter of life without set myself free from the gall
and not to let on. I imposed to your horror and fear,
my shame isn’t enough to obscure the suffering that
I carved in your mind.
Now I see how who kills vows
to be a different man. Now dejecting I ground my will
an thinking that your life will carry on
Waiting for a single gesture of courage, a
gravestone of blood in memory of a coward.
I can’t replace what I’m stealing form you.
I wonder how much you could be grown up
from when I took you in my arms and I lulled you.
I can’t but right now I need you. Troubles made me
fear made me, frailty made me but any comparison
is simply wrong”
Grabbing her face through wires to enlace,
somethings is dead while something else’s still alive
“I remember the day at the lake where I chose your
name. Once I pray for a gift then you came,
but the rift slowly grew and the drift of my thoughts
so, became barbed cross. What can I say?
Celebrate how to love.
You’ll be strong.
Live your life and chase the darkness upon your face
I will be memory to fade away and away
That’s my last line.
I hope you’ll live in space forgetting time.
Misery. Unbearable.
Doom rains both sides of the same land,
their souls, executioner and victim, united
by the same death. The wind grew, the nest
was swept. No straw or pine needle could
fix her nest corrupted with deception in
December.
I wonder if I
at the time
you managed to realize.
Unheard thoughts.
Signs to gather.
That many was your father.