cuz i get dark when i dream
"not necessarily for the faint of heart when i allow my imagination and pain to create art.." bnkl
tears run down
alligator skin
reminding the scabs
there is only
more to come
from the cyclical dreams
seeping through
the troubles found
where the coast
is far too clear
sun setting upon
the features which
wont let it be
left behind
as they stare back
opposites that attack
selling the intent
of a daughters
fragile artiface
showing the father
through the cracks
in the mirror
feeling the blood
drip down broken skin
just to feel
something again
----------------------------------------
breaking,
only to be
simply mistaking
that the anger
or the fear
will just drip,
drip, drip
from the ducts
drip,
and swirl upon
understanding ground
warm to the
touch
an embrace
not meant to
crush
the vulnerability
draining away
all air hiding
in lost lungs
trying to breathe
one more
time,
time which is
never found
when the clock
ticks
and watches the pulse
travel away
down river styx
leaving the land
above,
above the sand
where bodies lie
awake
without comfort
from the restricting
veins
which find a restless
line
like a broken mile
bent roads with
no yellow bricks
to send its fugitives
a haven to
escape,
escape from the cages
which demonstrate
the weakness hidden
under starved eyes
waiting for the
stick
to poke and
prod,
prod at the local
stock
meant to be led
back to the flock
as if the world
was still the
same,
same and not this
midnight haze
secreting through
the cuts found
alongside
the scrapes loosely
tying,
tying the skin
together like an old
house
allowing the leaks
to drip,
drip, drip
down faces
not free from the
realization of missing
humanity
briah nicole k luther
tears run down
alligator skin
reminding the scabs
there is only
more to come
from the cyclical dreams
seeping through
the troubles found
where the coast
is far too clear
sun setting upon
the features which
wont let it be
left behind
as they stare back
opposites that attack
selling the intent
of a daughters
fragile artiface
showing the father
through the cracks
in the mirror
feeling the blood
drip down broken skin
just to feel
something again
----------------------------------------
breaking,
only to be
simply mistaking
that the anger
or the fear
will just drip,
drip, drip
from the ducts
drip,
and swirl upon
understanding ground
warm to the
touch
an embrace
not meant to
crush
the vulnerability
draining away
all air hiding
in lost lungs
trying to breathe
one more
time,
time which is
never found
when the clock
ticks
and watches the pulse
travel away
down river styx
leaving the land
above,
above the sand
where bodies lie
awake
without comfort
from the restricting
veins
which find a restless
line
like a broken mile
bent roads with
no yellow bricks
to send its fugitives
a haven to
escape,
escape from the cages
which demonstrate
the weakness hidden
under starved eyes
waiting for the
stick
to poke and
prod,
prod at the local
stock
meant to be led
back to the flock
as if the world
was still the
same,
same and not this
midnight haze
secreting through
the cuts found
alongside
the scrapes loosely
tying,
tying the skin
together like an old
house
allowing the leaks
to drip,
drip, drip
down faces
not free from the
realization of missing
humanity
briah nicole k luther