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tread lightly through black holes

black hole.
god forsaken empty.
if only light would show through this glorified sky.
you sadistic sons of bitches,
daughters of over-used whores.
no one will admit to opening eyes,
twice two many times sewn shut.
they'd rather just desperately reach out fingertips
blindly pulling in the last of a summer sun.
i am not alone in this vision.
and yet who here will raise scarred wrists
dripping with skin healed in disgusted trim.
willingly retch out words without admirable adjectives.
describe the last of the human race as macabre.
the world would be colorless
except for the blood of fallen soldiers
wimpering meager last words
what a tragic waste of breath,
as it seems no one desires to listen.
lay your body down on the land,
born from the deaths of a thousand men
braver than you or i shall ever be.
stop faking preferable.
perhaps once the thread catches on burnt rosebushes,
unraveled eye sockets, too long empty,
will seek true heartbroken pain.
And the shrapnel suffused bodies
will tread the bare road of cut skin.
following the footprints that we, the driven
who leave a sodden trail of fear,
we, the admonished
who admit to open eyes and never healed hope,
have layed down before them
in a last headlong attempt
to seek true bravery.
hand in bloody hand.
our torn feet will leave the path for those affected and not yet realized.
hand down your worn shoes
and walk barefoot with me across the thorns.
retraced into that limitless
god forsaken empty.

19 May 09

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 — silentspring

This is heavy, well thought out and well written.  You paint quite the picture of bleakness and you pull no punches.  I will go there with you only if you promise that we'll come back unscathed and better for the experience...
 — JKWeb

tread lightly through the quickest sand
with eyes as dark as pitch
and even if your words are bland
at least you're not a bitch.
 — unknown

ummm thanks unknown.

and jk web the allure of waking the path is not knowing how it is you will return
 — silentspring

where angels fear to tread, silentspring'd go toward that infinite-in, leap from that ledge to where she dared to see, the bleeding blissful edge of reality -- dive-deep -- l25 is that rose-bushes? -- you've a darkly word-weirding way in contrasts to silences that roar -- to listen to a Conch and hear the sea -- I press my eyes upon your words, they dare not blink, nor can I pause from the rush head-long, toward the infinite-in where that darkly-hole bleeds the light in vortex-beams into my eyes so I can see when I will die before I fall at once, at all -- nicely writ with your streams of consciousness rushing in ecstasies through your pen, where their bloody-bliss kisses many meanings all over again
 — AlchemiA

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