Trap – The Price of Kindness

 “The trap had a ghastly perfection” Stephen King, The Gunslinger

 

Why would you be good to me?


Is this a game I’m missing?

What will be required of me?

I know nothing comes without a price.

Take the fee of your kindness.

Place it in your jar of pretend.

Many lies begin with a good deed.

01222012

End Of Night – Not all is good at the end of night

“Sometimes you wake up from a dream. Sometimes you wake up in a dream. And sometimes, every once in a while, you wake up in someone else’s dream. ”
Richelle Mead,
Succubus Blues
 
Darkattic

Again the Succubus calls, answered by my willing compliance. At the end of night, leading her further down the cluttered path, I grab her by the hand and take the fake offerings, momentary escapes void of relief. Grabbing her, my Savior, “Please speak kind to me, sooth my ache and dark thirst.” There are no companions in this empty pursuit, I barely make it out alive, who will follow me in my destruction? Holding the works of addiction, I set up a fix that never satisfies, only to do it again and again before the end of night. Many will lead me there, then abandon my desperate body to its agonies of thought. There are no tomorrows in this never land, dreams are abandoned on the altar of deprecation. The birds sing, announcing their joy of the morning. Their spectators that look on, mocking the death of ambition and hope, increasing my dread that comes at the end of night.  Shake yourself my drugged soul, find your escape and run from the pain that finds you; a great price is paid in the dressings of celebrations that go on until the end of night. Caught again by the arrows of habit, striking me with precision through the errant presumption of safe chambers that open in the end of night. With no deliverance, shackles bind tighter with each twitch of resistance. To relieve myself of these panicked flights, I seek sleep, now stolen, hidden from my ever reaching mind; yet, I fight, until the end of night.

Also published in Broowaha Citizen Magazine
05112012 

My Small Things – Protect your dreams

“Yes: I am a dreamer. For a dreamer is one who can only find his way by moonlight, and his punishment is that he sees the dawn before the rest of the world.” 

 

My small things I protect from harm
If I lost them, I’d lose my charm.
I have all I’m going to be,
All contained within their deep sea.
Their not fragile, a well known fact.
If you shake them, they’ll fight back.
Strange they have a life of their own.
When I give them my faith, my power on loan.
The return for me is great,
A small price to accommodate.
They are small but it seems
Everyone cherishes their dreams.
02202011