A life devoid of emotions.
Let the sin of skin speak the truths and
devour our souls as passion slips
through onto the page. Fill the
emptiness with desire. Desire.
Desire that is inspired by an emotional
attraction. Fuse the temporary emotions
that can be created for purpose. Purpose,
the emotional state of being. Without being there
is no purpose. Emptiness that devours the soul
even death would be a welcomed benefactor, there
is no fate worse than this, the vastness of an
abyss. Frozen in time as an old homemade VHS tape
flicks though the candid camera. Before pictures.
Black and white tinged in belief, spoiled now
with a rainbows smear as even the leprechaun
sheds a tear for the broken. To venture, leave
behind past scars and become devoted to the
moment without concern for the future.
Remove my domino, let the cloak fall to
my feet and bare myself with the abandonment
of an untouched spirit and let passion be the
sparkle in my dying eyes. A life devoid of
emotion, is no life at all, it is the black abyss
of faithful regret, the cerebral effect of monotone
existence. It buries my raw in the bloodied
mud of mistrust and flows through my veins
poisoning my essence. It is the slow death
that creeps though your days as the angel
hides in the shadows, watching and waiting
to collect your part lived soul. But as he reaches
down to pick you out from the crowd, the
hollow shell cracks, the soul atomized. Forgotten
dust as the breeze carries the delicate petals
on new adventures.
Karen Hayward ©2016.