The Late AM Stall

Do you believe it ? What they say ?
You look at them, those thoughts are vile.
Those thoughts, they run wild in the darkest of nights
In your conscious, the shackles come off
Their vicious claws, the blood and the gore


Those eyes they stare, they peep and they lurk
You are naked and cold. Those wolves they howl.
The stench of blood it thickens. The stranger, he cusses and calls your name.
Do you look back or do you walk away ?

Those scars, they speak and they scream.
Unspeakable tales in scarlet letters
Those white picket fences grow higher.
The moon looks down on you, as one of you sleeps hollow.

The pain, it gropes, it tears and thrusts.
Holy water can only clean so much,
The sins of heart, they testify.
Those hands, they pin you down to crucify


Those ears, they hear whispers in the abyss
Those rumors spread like wildfire
Your sanity crumbles, as you look around.
There’s only you, the pitch black and those marks left behind.

You, yes you. You have had your laugh.
You have poured your heart out in words and tears.
Yet here you are alone and needy
What is it that you are looking for ?


Perhaps it is you, in bits and pieces.
Perhaps it the light in you that never fades.
Hope is never lost, you said. Tell me, do you still believe it ?

How much darkness could you endure ?
How much hurt is left to be felt ?
How do you seek closure in chaos ?
What is it like to feel nothing, where once there was the whole world ?

A known face had met your sight
Many a times, as you walked by.
Darling they would hold your gaze for only a while
They had loved the flesh, it is the soul that had never been kissed.


Those feet they dance in wishful thinking
They walk your walk only to leave you stranded
Those hands; they are magic, a lover’s sweet embrace.
Those hands; they are magic, they leave without a trace.


The taste of death, it brews stronger. Your ground is shifting.
They watch, in silence. They watch and applaud.
The realization strikes, it’s the eleventh hour
It’s a funeral of feelings. You wait ! The garlands never come.



Tell me again do you walk away ? If you see the light or do you still chase after it.
Do you hold another hand, do you kiss another lip
Do you ever escape. Tell me darling is there an escape ?

Do you choose to exist or does life choose to cease.
Do you have a choice, my love. Or is it too an illusion ?

What is it that you know. Or is it the fear of the unknown that keeps you awake and aware.
Do you ever look for a smile in the crowd or do you stop looking ?

Reviews

[Rochelle Delaine]

I particularly like the responses you had to the ideas you brought forth. Though I didn't see the theme of the story, it was going somewhere. The 'moral' wasn't easily accessible but there were results to the response of the different dilemmas you brought. I was somewhat frightened about the different outcomes of the ideas that you presented.

[Sadia Prottasha]

To be honest, I have no real experience in writing but it helps me clear my head. I wrote this, coming straight out of a traumatic event. I was still in a state of confusion and writing about all the thoughtw that ran through my mind helped. The trauma in itself triggered a surge of emotions in me that took me back to similar past experiences.

My thoughts were truly all over the place, so I guess it doesn't follow any particular theme.