Complete. In a Sense of Dying.

A Poem by Zack.

A simple poem with a few quotes thrown in for good measure.

"You have to begin to lose your memory, if only in bits and pieces, to realize that memory is what makes our lives. Life without memory is no life at all, just as intelligence without the possibility of expression is not really an intelligence. Our memory is our coherence, our reason, our feeling, even our action. Without it, we are nothing... Our imagination, and our dreams, are forever invading our memories; and since we are all apt to believe in the reality of our fantasies, we end up transforming our lives into truths. Of course, fantasy and reality are equally personal, and equally felt, so their confusion is a matter of only relative importance... I am the sum of my errors and doubts as well as my certainties." Luis Bunuel

Chapped lips cursing the cold. the night air sings a haunting, quiet song.

The silence of slumber, temporary calm. never enough.

Eyes widen, allow the stomach to churn, the heart always burns.

Fingertips frozen, like a dead man's grip, in a circle of nine.

Feeling your everything as you think it should it be

Why does all of it mean nothing to me?

We pretend as we soar through our grey skies

That everything's just fine.

The dove and the serpent forever intertwined, as the coil grows tighter,

And the days grow longer, and their existence is faltered

There is no coming to consciousness without pain

As a scar is what happens when the word is made flesh

So you reveal your fangs, your deft claws

That are nothing like the pictures, but rather surreal

Most would say it doesn't exist, but the stinging,

The venom, as it seeps through pierced skin

Always reminds me of the pain of yesterday,

And that's when i know, there is no antivenom, only death i know.

And just as I look to yesterday, there's nothing there

Nothing, no memory of anything real.

No, just life's constant stalemate, whether between two souls

Or life itself with only the benefit of losing.

It's funny, all this disappointment.

Just as we bring ourselves down to sorrow,

There's always comedy, picking and choosing it's victims,

Comedy brings laughter, and thus in time,

Laughter brings joy again.

Along with laughter comes the love of life,

And with such grand love, who's to say true love is impossible?

But how sorrowful it is, the waiting.

We're always having to wait and see.

So be it the joy of life or love,

There is always the chance of happiness to pervade into your heart.

Just as long as the sorrow of a love lost doesn't overtake you.

Because just then, it might be the end for you.