Divine Intervention

Out of nowhere came this urgent need to reconnect with him. It had been several years but took only minutes before his voice was in my ear and he was damning me for reaching out again. I’d found him in limbo, which wasn’t actually surprising, he’d already done his stint in India, studying with the

Perpetuation

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Wicked Webs

Its fear that keeps him Coming back  …Watching    …Waiting      …Anxiety building Fear of her unknown Predictability Of the truth exposed Absolute Tangled in webs Spun of silver cords Endless lies Struggling internal How did it all Get so complicated Over and over His personal mantra What he’s learning About his ugly truth It always follows

ignis fatuus

Enveloped in a cocoon Safe in a protective crowd Intent in this technique Forever shielding himself Lost in glorified illusion To keep from coming apart His ugly unknown truth Self-serving lies A knife looming Forever in darkness Threatening to shred Threadbare foundation Alone in the corner When everyone has gone Haunted by echoes Broken wailing

Behind the Mask

Still so predictable Playing the same game Alias number three Am I the only one Who sees? As if images alone Didn’t give him away The same old shit Worn out style Not even about them Couldn’t care less Just needing to be there Lurking in shadows Spewing his shit Hoping for a word Praise

LITTLE GIRL LOST

I wanted so much to believe she as sincere, that some small shred of her former self still remained. But as I stood across from her on the other side and watched her nod to her friend just a few feet away, who on cue, inconspicuously raised her Droid and snapped several photos of the

Depiction

There comes a certain “feel,” no matter where you happen to be, whenever his thoughts turn in your direction. It starts at the basic level of the flesh; like the cool breeze on a crisp autumn night; tantalizing and chilling all at once. Your blood pressure rises, heart rate increases, as he sends invisible waves

Means to an end

With old patterns faltering in the wake of time, serving him less and less; desperation creeps, then slowly sets in. Searching for something real to cling to; in a world of illusion and cheap parlor tricks; of which he created and has always dwelled. Better to be an imaginary somebody, than a real no body;

Shallow Sal

Just as it began To materialize For the first time in His life Wrapping his head His heart around it Embracing with wild Abandon Shifting perception To a clearer view Uninhibited Filled with wonder Unveiling calm In the storm of His life To his true self Introductions made Freedom offered At too high a cost