AlexanderGambeli13

Reaching to the sky with bloodied, bandaged fingers Grasping at the silver feathers that dance just out of reach Remembering the beloved liar, the unrequited love Longing to see the heavens Trapped on the dismal earth Fearing… Dreaming… Knowing… It will never be enough Staring at the tattered bandages on the torn up fingers Watching as they fall away, revealing the cuts and scars Wondering if they’ll ever heal Suspecting they’ll only be replaced Damage can’t be undone Hatred can be replace by forgiveness, But memories still stay at the end of the day Dreading… Imagining… Knowing…

The slugs chewed jagged crowns out of brand new ecru tulips, and the rain filled them up like teacups until they drooped, made lazy by the weather. But Spring blew smoke like the woman on the park bench smoking a Pall Mall and whispering into a black cell phone, her bright red boots toe-deep in water. Her umbrella, spine flicking drops into the flower beds, irrigating daffodils yet to bloom, made the park look gothic and lonesome. But when she left, her breath steam against the air, boot heels clicking against the stone – The flowers peered up, Blinking against the rain.

Radiance extends her hands to me, But I recoil in terror barely able to breathe. The poison screams inside as the truth unfolds, For an escape from this threat to its control. From my willing enslavement this realization has made me stray. Every excuse I possessed has been stripped away. All the shrouds in which I wrapped my soul, Now have been torn to leave me bare and cold. I cover my eyes as the light descends. The blackness inside doesn't want this to end. Who was I before I threw my life at its feet? Can I even remember my own heart beat? I can't recall the last time I truly lived. What is it that I chose to give? I intoxic

She wears her worth around her neck In the form of A penny From ninety-three years ago And rusty locks, Strung on an iron chain, Along with broken Keys that go to Nothing She knows of Any longer. She finds them, on Street corners and in forgotten, Lonely places, Treating them like Precious treasures And long-lost friends; She hangs them near her core To try and remember Where all the pieces go, Where they all come from. Maybe one day. Her window Is made of a shattered mirror In the hopes of Being able to see Something that isn't on the outside. She is not sure Exactly what that is Yet. None

They Watch You Sleep: There are many bards who can tell you tales Of the creeping shadows that come at night We've seen them crawling along the walls In the absence of the light... On the darkest of nights, cold and chill You can hear them quietly gibbering. They speak of things that you cannot know Which is why they are always whispering. It is said that they will know the future and that they know the fate of every man They are here to watch his path unfold or perhaps to have him damned... These sick and twisted animals Bear a stench that is rather foul But you will only smell this scent if they choose to remove their cowl

And I asked her, "Do you remember why I counted tiles- sat in silence for hours, wishing on the black holes in my pockets?" Stuttering against quiet delusions, She bit a vintage tongue. "Because, I tried to bury myself alive that night, just to engrave the taste of rose thorn monsters between the cracks of my glass skin." Licking dry lips, She asked to taste them.