Diary Of An Amnesiac

To the sleep, the dream, and the inevitable awakening.

We find the fading twilight bruised.

A dark melange of black and blue.

Like the deep hollows carved beneath your eyes.

You linger like a bad conscience.

Wrought by idle hands and haunted.

Let the sleep follow once we both have died.

 

The night is young and it's hard to tell.

If your touch feels more like heaven or hell.

Heavy hearts reach out for heavy hands.

"Sacrilige!" I heard you lament.

Disaters I dared not prevent.

I never once asked you to understand.

 

A child's bed, defiled and depraved.

God knows where you will drag my name.

This house is not a home, only a cage.

Find me face down on the street.

Studying the science of sleep.

The last drop of ink spills upon the asphalt page...

 

...But all the pages are blank.

Author's Note

Yeah, not sure how I feel about this one. Let me know, though.

Reviews

[Shy Girl]

This has a deeper meaning to it then I'm reading...It is probably my inner anxiety calling out for it..This was an emotional connection to the gray murk of my mind for some strange reason. Then I looked up and blinked...and my frontal lobe registered the last line "...But all the pages are blank." Flows so well here... everything is a connection that carries you down the page. (I'm sorry but that inner calling is very loud..and I read it twice) I really liked this piece. (hazy fog of stationary wonder..if that made sense :)

[Mary C]

What a mood these intense images set.

[R J Askew]

I read this literally to start with, thinking about a poor guy next door here who is 86 and who is sinking into bewilderment, his memory crumbled. What a way to be! To lose it all like that. For the mind to die slowly, but the body to live on.
But i don't think that is what you had in mind. The third verse puzzles me. I like 'This house is not a home, only a cage', but I can't fathom it. Having said that I really like some of the imagery, esp the 'deep hollows carved beneath your eyes' similie. 'Carved' makes it strong I think. But the best dab for me is 'The last drop of ink spills upon the asphalt page...' Blue in on black tarmacadam vanishes. Which makes me think of the guy next door again. Sad, sad, sad.

[Thea]

Brilliant piece...It was very interesting...You have that creative style in writing down things...Great job... :)))

[ChaoticSoul]

Well, I know I am quite sure of this poem and all its brilliancy. It flows together so well, yet it breaks apart in a way that creates such a great sense of time. I had to stop and reread every verse to properly absorb the depth in each line. And the ending is so lovely; it contributes a beautifully haunting aspect to the story within these lines. My own heart sings these words you have skillfully wrote. Fantastic writing, my friend!

[Ness of Love]

I like it. All of the stanza are descriptive and it is put together really well. I also like the part with the ink, how its all used up but the pages are still blank, clever.

[Lily Mae]

Oh I love it.. the frustration and feeling caged in and wanting something but not.. wow..it drew me in.. excellent write..x