Archive for January, 2010


A Room To Die In

black drapes,
dusty window.
white carpetting,
big red stain.
naked bed,
no sheets, no pillows.
naked.
picture frame,
broken glass, frayed picture.
lightbulb hangs from the water stained ceiling.
news paper clippings glued to the door.
floral wall paper,
teared and falling.
corpse.
wide eyed, gaping female.
next to the big red stain
on the white carpetting
beside the naked bed.
corpse.
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   when ever i dream about a real person-especially someone i dont know- i start to see them in a new way. and i dont mean those goofy dreams where random objects melt into flowers or someone’s head explodes. i am talking about vivid, realistic dreams with meaning.
    this guy from my school was in my dream last night.  i only know his first name but here we will call him brian. we’ve never talked and we only have one class together and he is always skipping it.
In my dream he stole my diary to make it his own. when i took it back i read some pretty powerful stuff (he didnt even care) he just sat comatose in the front seat of a 1950 model of a hearse. any ways, it revealed that there was something deep, dark and broken about him. something like me. i cant help but wonder if this sheds any truth on this boy’s life. maybe i’ve judged him too harshly. maybe there is something there no one else sees (?)
my dream also had a reference towards indian traditons and the closeness of tribes. some time ago in my english class we read Sherman Alexi’s DIARY OF A PART TIME INDIAN. could this mean something? i was able to relate to Junior, maybe brian can too. maybe we can relate to each other.
what if this dream means i shouldnt judge people, even though i keep it to myslef, because deep down, where it maters most, we’re all the same. we all have our own shame and regrets to carry on till judgement day.
i dont know if my conscious is trying to tell me something or what, all i know is that this dream bothered me so much.
Blake is the glimpse of sunlight during a storm.
Blake is the plot of a great book.
Blake is the sound of laughter.
Blake is the sweetness of iced lemonade.
Blake is the red of a tomato.
Blake is the innocence of a child.
Blake is the magic trapped in a fairytale.
Blake is the secret everyone is dying to know.
Blake is the many patterns and shades of a shadow.
Blake is the smile of a young child eating a cookie in secret.
Blake is the vividness of shocking blue.
Blake is the golden rule of the game.
Blake is the poison of a vampire.
Blake is the moon that bewitches lovers.
Blake is the best money could never buy.
Blake is the ray of sunlight through a canopy of trees.
Blake is the power of a star exploding.
Blake is the glimpse of sunlight during a storm.

Ashes Will Not Become Roses

ashes to ashes,
we all have our crosses to bare,
she told me through an open window stare.
even if her pictures fade into forgotten shivers,
i’ll remember her as clearly as if she’s here.
even if the words in her letters smear into inky rivers,
i’ll remember those words as if she’s saying them in my ear.
even though she’s gone my heart doesnt care,
i dance with her ghost as the skeletons in my closet play a song.
even though to reality memories cant compare,
amongst my life they do belong.
i know she’s dead and gone
but our love will march on.
i know her corpse is decayed and rotten
but her beauty wont be forgotten.
love like this cant ever die,
its with this truth that i believe.
hope like this cant ever say goodbye,
its with this lie that i leave.
ashes to ashes,
we all have our crosses to bare and you are mine,
i told her through my break in time.