piled a lot of others' mattresses beneath me, trying to cover that which bruised my ego
aligned myself with monsters to feel beautiful, closed my eyes so i would not witness their actions
rode white horses to others' rescues, trying to escape myself
a damsel in distress
in denial
climbed to the highest turret in my card castle
seduced by the spindle, the solitude
cursing myself, i locked the tower and cut my hair
ready to hang myself with the rope, rather than bind myself to another
fell asleep, dreamt that i was kissed with no expectation placed upon me
awoken only by dawn
and the nagging sensation of buried troubles
slowly peeled back the layers of my worries
bundled the many beds i had made and laid in, despairing
dragged them out of the castle to be carried away by white horses
exposed the vile little pea of doubt
a sigh and the cards collapse
grounded, i can sleep on clouds
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defining existence through mayhem. life, my life, is sustained by the junk of adrenaline and bizarre experience, as adventure is an opportunity I cannot forsake. synchronicity plots my next move always.
2 comments:
"i climbed to the highest turret in my card castle"
Love it!
your use of imagery in this piece is so so very nice ...
Walt should be spinning in his grave.
Great, great work.
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