time

it came upon me, as a thief.
silently, stealthily… stealing
my beauty,, my passion,, my dreams,, my desires…
i was swept up from behind,
now i’m caught-
i am held fast,,
i am struggling,
but the feather like fingers have taken hold.
slowly entwining themselves around my very soul…
coiling,, choking me from within…

i stand motionless… waiting..
afraid any movement, may propel me forward
when all i seek-
is to go back…
as if i no longer have any control,
as if the fates have finally won,,
and i have lost-
all but what i see…

i close my eyes,, my mind,, my heart
i hide in the shadows
of my own thoughts-
as i feel that is all that remains
of that which i cannot see…

i dream of me then,, sometime
before i was lost-
before time, had its way…
before i was introduced
to the art of decay…

photo:

http://www.toddmessegeephoto.com/FineArtFolder/The%20thief%20who.jpg

“hi, my name is….”

i am that voice that calls your name
when there is no one else around
i am the one that knows you’re fucking up
even before you hit the ground
i am the face you’ve never seen
when you look into the mirror
i am the screams that no one hears
when your breaking point is getting nearer
i am the you that no one knows
because they would never understand
i make you ask how high
and you will do what i command
i will not give in because you beg
i will not respond to your tears
i am the you, you hate that you’ve become
i am the worst among your fears
i will take you as my prisoner
i will never let you win
my name is depression
i’ve come to devour you from within…..

by: paisley

photo:

http://crowskie.deviantart.com/art/Depression-v2-17944771

of scylla and charybdis

once again we are positioned
between scylla and charybdis
the chasm that separates us
mythically disproportionate
to your truth or mine
a convolutely hinged catch 22

once again two worlds colliding
yours a rock and mine a hard place
yours somber fore lorn forced inflection
emitted from the belly of the conch,
mine acidic bloody brawling bursts
imbued with absolutions slow demise

only once could we come together
hearts gatekeeper put in chains
bite not from past, that poison apple
at long last find common ground
foundation built of rock on hard place
just this once,, oh mother, mine…..

by: paisley

photo:

http://xroads.virginia.edu/~MA03/pricola/FSA/images/

LOC%20pics/Lange–mother%20and%20child.jpg

my chemical romance

in a timid whisper
she speaks my name
hushed velvet voice..
she caresses me
leaving a trail
of longing
behind my ear
down the nape of my neck
each hair stands on end
with the reminiscence
of her touch

my heart aches
as i pull away
reluctantly
refusing to
meet her gaze
i avoid her eyes
as i know.. she knows
the very scent of her
will resurrect within me
the dance of death
and i have yet,,
to learn to walk
with life….

by: paisley

photo:

http://fc04.deviantart.com/fs9/i/2006/027/9/7/

Dead_can_dance_by_ArtificialArtistry.jpg

true dat

yes,, this is written in a rapper style,, and yes,, the lyrics are explicit,, and yes,, i am nearly 47 years old…. but the the message remains…..

what a difference a moment can make…

so you be thinkin’ you all gangsta
you fuckin’ straight up thug
always one uppin’ yo homies
got the sweetest drugs

got all the bestest bitches
and the sikest hos
ain’t no body fuckin’ wit chew
cuz you cap a bitch, yo!

well brutha let me clue ya
i was once like you
smoothest playa in da ‘hood
had all the ill crazy moves

one night this punk ass poser
start to fuck wit’ my shit
mutha fucka didn’t realize
who he was fuckin’ wit’

dood, i whipped out my gat
i went all al capone
and without a moments notice
both our lives was gone

ten years a go they buried him
but life,, was my decree
yo, even if they let me out,,
i can’t never be free

all dat fuckin’ attitude
and all dat pent up strife
don’t mean fuckin’ shit to no one
when you take a nigga’s life….

true dat…..

by: paisley

photo

http://fc05.deviantart.com/fs14/f/2007/027/e/f/Gangsta_by_wise_kctus.jpg

the walk

born mary rose mulkayhe
baptized in white lace
shy, soft-spoken child
filled with feminine grace

raised by loving parents
in a modest, comfortable home
who could see,, how far away
from all of this she’d roam

surely as a child
as she lay, awake in bed
she never in her wildest dreams
foresaw what was ahead

who can say, if she had known
that time would heal her rage
maybe she wouldn’t have walked away
at such a tender age

maybe she never would have tried
smoking pot- just to be cool
or stole script drugs from her parents
and ate them all in school

maybe she would never have married,
and had children she couldn’t keep
at least then, she wouldn’t need to
punish herself,, by working in the street

it doesn’t really matter now
as she walks the dark “ho stro”
picking up tricks
for a couple of bucks
for the drugs,
to make herself whole

born mary rose mulkayhe
baptized in white lace
she walks the street in white stilettos
selling her feminine grace

by: paisley

photo:

http://photo.net/bboard-uploads/00CFFw-23604584.jpg

the knob

and then i hear a voice from deep within my illusion,
a familiar voice,
i believe is his,,
emanating from my heart,,
“you will never love anyone like you loved me….”
i strain to listen, to hear more…
but there is silence..
and i watch,,
i watch as the sun drops slowly into the sea,
and i know,
once again,,
he has won…

i read it, and it drew me in and left me off at a place in my heart i have been avoiding for days… a place i haven’t wanted to go… because it is truly, my personal limbo,, no my hades,, no my hell.. in that i know, i can never really gain admittance,, and yet,, i can’t stay away,, either….

and even on the days that i summon the courage, to close my eyes, and withdraw enough,, to summon the strength,, to and turn and to run … the fire with which we once burned,, is still there…as are the ashes,, for they are never fully washed away…

i have been fondling the knob, on the door,, for days,,, my fingers,, tracing the inscription,, that time has etched into its surface,, the worn spots,, where i have held on tight,,, the rough edges,,, where i have tried unsuccessfully to pry it from my hand,,, the deep groves that continue to suck me in,, making it impossible for me to let go…. completely…the vast emptiness, of the keyhole, for which,, i know,,, he has the only key….

wanting to go in,, wanting to submerge myself once again… and yet knowing the time for that is behind me,, and i have to turn,, to look away,, even to run,, if i am ever to be able to go on,, to move on,, to move toward,, anything that ever resembles a life… again….

but i wonder from here,, with my fingers locked tightly around the cold, hard, steel of the knob,, my only physical link to him,,, a link that has grown hot,, and moist,, and inviting,,, held so firmly, in my grasp… i wonder,,, if i will ever really be able to let go.. and even if i can, physically pry my hand from the handle… how will i ever be able to separate myself from him… as i bare his brand,, permanently scorched into the palm of my hand, the softest part of my heart,, the most protected crevices of my soul…

even if i let go.. will i ever be able to get far enough away… far enough so that he will no longer call to me,, or if he does,,, that i won’t hear him,, and long for him,, and runaway from where ever i am to come back, to him… to here… to nowhere….

and if,, by chance,, i was to allow myself to move on,,, how many more hearts would i have to singe, how many lives would i help to unravel knowing all the while… he was right… he has always been right… i will never love anyone like i did him…

and the longer i look and the harder i try and the more i conspire to force “you” to be him,, and me to be the me i was before i loved him.. the weaker we both become… “you”,, the illusive man that never succeeds in becoming him,, and me the girl with no dreams… save one,, the dream that has died, but refuses to rest in peace…

i ache to be touched, to be held… to be looked at with longing, and desire.. but every time i would see “you”,,, i would look for him… i would be seeing you thru the veil i wear, the veil of devotion… to him….. and thinking all the while….. “you are not him,, you will never be him,,, how dare you try…” until eventually i would become acerbic, and sharp, filled with a hate you cannot understand… and i would burn from within,, once again,, a victim,, of my very own unquenchable,, all consuming flame…

until you run,, or i do.. and i am left alone again…

will i spend forever,, peering thru the keyhole,, my portal,, to him… afraid to let go,, and even more afraid… that if i do ever turn the knob… and open the door… that he won’t really be there????

by: paisley

photo:

http://spirit-watcher.deviantart.com/art/knob-001-58722207

jealousy

a jealousy green as winter grass
grows succulent, lush, and whole
on the long dead, barren
rolling hills,, of my aching, envious, soul….

i watch you live,, your chalice full
as in emptiness i am bound
crackled leaf and bitter root
the thistles,, with which i am crowned

desires incalescence, like fever burns
yet yields, to frozen,, blood curdling,, fear
as this malaria like a cancer grows
life’s siren song,, so weak,, i strain to hear

in this theater of my own dead soul
shut out,, all, but temptations moan
i watch you walk among the living
as to my grave,, i walk alone…..

by: paisley

photo:

http://addica.deviantart.com/art/Jealousy-12186427

mistress heroin

did she call out your name, in dulcet tones
and tell you, that she loved you?
did she follow you into the streets,
in the dark of night,,
so you wouldn’t have to be alone?

did she hold you so close,
that you forgot to breathe??
or did she suck you in-
and steal your life,,
that night that you joined the ghosts?

did she assume her place
in the sequence of your life?
or did you disappear into hers-
as you grafted her, into your vein,,
and succumbed, to her everlasting embrace?

as you suckled her breast, did it ever occur
that you would die before you were calved?
that you would never grow old
that you would draw your last breath,,
but never exhale,, her sweet scented myrrh?

when at last, the two of you became,, fatally entwined
did she then reveal, her true self to you?
and as you looked upon her, that first time-
was she in fact, your beloved dulcinea,,
or a cold, dead, skeletal rind?

by: paisley

photo:

http://vurian.deviantart.com/art/Behind-the-mask-44655192