Relapse

April 25 2010

She takes a long drag, flickers death and then whispers into the cold night,
watches her breath form into a familiar shape
and wanders away, shaking a little at the feelings of her own fright.
Voices rise from beneath the gates, and she listens;

Hope, it's a funny thing. And hopelessness, that is too.
When they walk hand in hand that is, they have nowhere to go.
So look at your two feet, where are you going?
Don't dare make a noise, don't scare the neighbors
Don't call in the middle of the night, keep to yourself.
Learn to be silent, scream only in the center of your four white walls.
Because they don't understand. Are you crazy?
They tell you to knock on doors, don't do it.
They just can't save people like you,
and nothing can mask us for too long.
God is not an excuse, and time will change,
but as for us, we won't. We're never far behind
and we always win your battles.
So, hold your breath now, let your smile twist..

And she reacts vividly, as the present world does not preach to her anymore.
She lets it twist and she laughs a little inside.The wrinkle increases.
Her empty vessel creates pounding pressure
and the crawling voices break the gates of the voice she uses to paint a solid exterior.
Time flees out of her adoration, and she burns out into relapse.