pathetic

this strikes at the heart
-love, bondage to you

felt the river flow through
the winding path I dug
laid with rock and bloom

dies faster than i did
wrapped in arms
germinating hope

a callous smile
i failed to read

God bless this man
-i was, the greatest dope.

peril

The deepest,
darkest
rises in the fog,
burned away -hidden desire.

Oh, why feel
so free
behind the screen?

And how our creator
tapped into the sensual,
leaves us mourning
the loss of soul.

Attending the Opera

— Read on Fabric on the Daily Post

What are we willing to give up? What would i find behind your curtain as i swing it aside? Have you, will you, consider letting me know?

I wait. Anticipate. Is this a game eagerly played by two? Or only i?

Am i setting myself up for your opera. Life over as fast as it started. Slow. Drawn out misery. Ending with a cry of freedom!

A peek behind the madness of death exists behind every curtain. It matters not your fabric woven. The rapacious appetite for breath carries us along.

I do not plan to go anywhere. Neither behind your curtain. Or stand before it. I want to be your covering. Shield you from peering eyes.