Monday, April 25, 2005


Slime in tangled hair
Smelling like decomposition
Dragging my memories after me
Like a child with a battered teddy bear

I am silent, full of thoughts
But empty of courage. I am hiding
I am good at that. And I plunge ahead
Though terrified. I am a firewalker

Ploughing on. I confess that I am secretive
Scarlet-faced, hands fluttering
Insecure in my own skin. I hurt myself
On the edges of razor sharp days
That cut, that cut

I revel in solitude – those endless silences
I love them, I nurture them
I do not betray their confidences
A spell has been cast
A storm descends
A storm without a cause
A storm without a pause.


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