Crashed Glass and The sound of Magic
By Evil Ash
crashed glass ,the sounds of magic ...
I am careful
to not disturb the dust of time
as i move through spaces left unwanted
broken thoughts ,memories hurtful...
where am i going?
lost in the
halls of society,drifting towards
what ?
i stare into mirrors and forget whose face stares back at me ...
i raise
my hand and stop to shiver ,
as the face dissolves in the steam..
walking
in circles
nothing clear ..
voices not mine ,all i hear..
distant and uncaring
fingers Like branches ,point at me ..
how do they know?
triggers a passion ,
one
lost in time
is time broken?
the numbers
are meaningless
they drip on the tiles...
drip tock..tick drop......sounds are confusing
stabs of pain ,white and fresh ...
words flout behind closed eyes,drifting on fluids of visceral pain
never clear as to where it hurts..
old friends ,i am to this ...
losing sight of dreams of clarity
to cold dark reposes of light's dying embers ..
delving deep,i fail to find ...
searched faces ,and distant eyes..
left unwanted ,or at least uncaring ..
stalwart in visions of life's delicate threads..
i stitch there eyes shut in thoughts all but one
the urge to make it real ,a touch is pleasure
pleasure,tears ...
only memories,left in docks in a dried out river
tears once flowed to fill a void ,left by decisions of error
made by one who has lost his soul
a tattered soul ,broken like glass ..
hurled at a wall,screams to release the story
spoken words ,replaced with thoughts ...
left with no taste ,and molded hate
it has fueled my demise ,and set it in stone..
dark the words ,to dark to read ..
my skin may speak of the life i lead
crashed glass,the sounds of magic
tones of power to a man who no longer hears
and sparkles of light, emanate hopes adrift on knowledge
that there never really was ...
a life to have,only broken time
of a clock that never moves ..
set in a crystal,carved with diamonds
colored in red
drip tock tick drop
again and again the silence is deafoning
eyes strain against sutures of glass encrusted threads
is that tears?
no i have none left ...
a tremble..a shake...and all in all a final cut
Author's Note:
Wrote this awhile ago,forgot to post itComments on "Crashed Glass and The sound of Magic"
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On Monday, January 14, 2019, Jonas Robinson
(848) wrote:
When I read this, I thought of the crashed glass a broken wine glass. Once, I drank so much that I slammed a wine glass into the counter. My hands started bleeding. Which, also reminds me of the part on Pink Floyd's The Wall, where he slams his bare foot into the wine glass. I believe it was from the song, "Mother." Well, anyway, I enjoyed the poem, and I hope others will too. :)