illusional reality

I wake up with a start.Yes.It had to be a dream.No.A nightmare. What else could it have been..? I am a little ruffled.Glancing at the alarm clock i groan… still an hour more to go...this won't do.No. Waking up in a sweat,night after night,only to curse the dawn. I snuggle under my sleep warmed quilt and my hand reaches out to stroke the cold half of the bed...it's a ritual now... since the last seven months. Still,I tell him what Angela told me about our baby, and I want to cry. But the tears have all dried up,sucked out from me by the same dark angel that crushed his skull to unidentifiable pieces that evening... I feel empty inside...no feelings,none at all ,the way you feel when rage,love,frustration..and all those feelings squeeze the breath out of your lungs...am I slowly becoming detached... or is it just a phase? The sky outside is still dark… a sliver of a moon is all I can see from the window..no stars.. The scars are all healing slowly, as if to remi...

Le vent me pousse vers la solitude une existence éternnelle de l'ombre Des aveugles et des aveux se rencontrent à la porte La gare encombrée et les gens courantes la vie légère et la folie de noir Une vision de pouvoir des aigles la melancolie qui traque l'île de circonstance au seuil d'une révolution une révélation grande toute seule..j'attends le commencement du deuil..

innocent.reedless nights. an age of abandoned stilts.. sifted edges and a gilded plane nothern winds and blaring horns lamps and oils and velvet tans sweet dreams of an ageless charm you,me and a nameless face. a pleothora of faceless people blackboards and chalks and leopard prints green fields fo corn and ripe plums an endless vision of existence a pale furtive silence and the other side of paradise..

a whispered tune of the lonely tree a balm on the wounds of the morrow the moral blinds of all my tomorrows a single thread of white shame. of black sorrow and seclusion. a blistering pain at the pit of my vision crooked fingers and unbent backs. the hardy labour of a sunny day big brown packets and lonely tears a calm threat knocking at the winds of my door.. and the eternal query... "does it matter?"