In the final act, illness is unveiled in its true ugliness, raw hideousness, and utter mercilessness; when blood flows from open veins and the eyes from behind which it lies, are bloodshot and teary from torment and unceasing cries.
Tag: Blog
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In illness the emaciated and anguished take painfully slow steps in darkness.
The quiet torment of loneliness captures and devastates in its stillness.
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When black lace gloves are laid on finely polished wooden dressers and the long procession is over, in stillness she sits at her beauty vanity and stares into the mirror. Thoughts of sorrow and anger forcefully take over. Silent tears stream as she wipes off her makeup; clothes are taken off and left strewn on varnished wooden floors. To crawl into bed is all she can muster; he is gone now, and will never come back to her. And what of the children’s tears? She must grieve in painful secrecy for they need the strength of their mother. Fall has come, and alone in tearful anguish she awaits the bitter cold of the winter.
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With whispers of sweet nothings
Lovers undressed her body,
But could never undress her soul.
The depths of her; her very essence,
They would never know. -
In love’s perpetuity we have found immortality.
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In the chill of fall winds, a child’s tears fall against cold skin.
Though he waited for hours for his father, he did not show, once again.
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Forever loved, she rests in their hearts eternally.
In death, she is resurrected through loving thoughts and precious memories.
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On a dark and rainy night they told her,
“What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger.”
She said,
But until death the innocent perpetually suffer.
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With tears, heavy hearts and labored breaths
They live somewhere in-between life and death. -
Awakened and the nightmare begins
Daily life must be lived
But the anguished have nothing left to give
Unwanted thoughts torment the anxious
Irrationality becomes their reality
Depression consumes in totality
The body is willing but the mind is perpetually spinning
Eyes well up with tears for seemingly no reason
To the world the pain is hard to explain
In dark rain the distressed can be heard fervently praying
If you listen closely to their whispers you can hear them saying:
Dear God, I wish I had another brain
I can’t live another day with dark clouds over me, and cold rain
What did I do to deserve this pain?
Let me live again and free me from these chains.
Intimate Compositions 