The periphery is flecked
With colors bright
Ahead lies only darkness
And monsters in the night
Behind me I hear laughter
And weeping, sometimes, too
Ahead is nothing
A thick blanket
Covering all thought
All vision
All my screams
Are eaten by the Void
And nothing
No one
Recognizes the path down which I tread
The path down which we all tread
As time goes on (for I think it must)
The sounds behind me fade
I'm left with just my memories
"Shadows of a shade"
I lie there, float there
My mind makes demons true
For with no way to anchor my id
I've lost hold of the other two
Fangs!
And tongues
And teeth
And snaps
Tease my curled back
But these I take with ease
I know that soon my wicked past
will turn this night to hell
"The true criterion of the practical, therefore, is not whether the latter can keep intact the wrong or foolish; rather is it whether the scheme has vitality enough to leave the stagnant waters of the old, and build, as well as sustain, new life." -- Emma Goldman
Friday, September 17, 2004
Monsters in the Night, Part I
Another original poem for you to enjoy!
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