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Jaded. Fragmented. Fallen.
Always Rising.
UNSPENT (written for John)
Tuesday, December 6, 2005
09:05 p.m.
slowly waking-
i'm slowly drifting
and reality is no where.
colors blinding,
so i twirl in romance-
nothing more
but nothing less-
i have nothing to do but
sit and stare at the ordinary objects
that surround me.
my dream has left me.
no more are you here
and it is my heart that cries out-
waking me in the night.
crying for your arms to hold
for your touch to caress.
crying,
i am somehow comforted
and sleep beckons-
a sigh.
for it is not the night
that tortures
but the hours of the heart
and minutes unspent
dreaming of you.
-alysia-
Tuesday, November 22, 2005
07:03 p.m.
like the blossoming of the full moon-
she knew she was returning-
returning to him
like she swore she woudn't
the time and hour set
like tides wound to end-
sweet kisses like that can't be washed away.
the turning to autumn
doesn't yet chill her brain-
mindless,
her heart beats
through the absence of the new moon-
a bare floor
only sopftly grasping at her heels
as she makes her way
towards the exit
through the phazes of stars
and ill-gotten light-
the world turning
with the sentence of breath-
a remembrance
of flesh-
chapters sewn through stolen secrets-
a matching of heart beats
and gasp-
embraced by the moon's light
spun by past bloods bleeding again.
-alysia-
Tuesday, November 22, 2005
06:57 p.m.
pushing himself-
breathing harder- trying to win power
by releasing spirits-
a whore can do it anyday.
the idea has often
played with him-
toyed and plucked
with all the loves
he's won and desired
the night will continue on
after the warm corpse leaves
and only an impression
in the sheets
will keep him guessing
about the rotting scent
hidden by candles
and the rose petals long fallen
from a moment's true love.
-alysia-
Tuesday, November 22, 2005
06:13 p.m.
the turning of sheets-
rustling of papers and liscences-
agreed to terms-
i guess these whore boots are myne.
never mind the paint
upon the left heel-
those like me have no mind.
walking away
was always more comfortable
than street corners
and you can only begin to paint me
in all the blood
you've held captive-
i'm not the one hiding a snake
within my ears,
these fingerprints
will be etched in you skin for eternity-
just as you're lingering,
casting spells that too often work
will be found in the sand.
but soon only you'll be found; a snake
living in a brothel's hall closet.
and i'll be free to walk these streets
with bare feet.
-alysia-
Sunday, November 20, 2005
07:00 p.m.
stipping herself of her feathers,
her scars finally show
as peace offerings-
not slashes of joy-
but a period of rejoicement in life
and the colors that blood bleeds by.
taking first steps,
is only a cover for the wise
and she's not spilling over as a prophet-
life not being the breath
she wanted to be.
open sky
is left daunting
for those
who have long ripped off their wings-
preferring the stench of autumn-
security only lying in the way that blood rains-
and those living
are only claustrophobic
and blind
to the insecurities of angels
stumbling around this world.
bleeding upon us,
prodding us to believe in rain.
-alysia-
MESSAGE IN A BOTTLE
Sunday, November 20, 2005
06:58 p.m.
the message in the bottle-
the one he's been trying to find-
drowning himself-
if only he'd stop reaching
stop drowning-
clouding the fire-
adding fuel-
allowing the empties to pile up-
he's building a castle of his own,
shutting out who he started building for
the words i love you
aren't the fix anymore-
not when love smashes the bottles
and demands more.
i'm not a stranger to those shards-
the jagged jade glass mirrors.
i've felt many of them closer than my own soul
but none of his
feel familiar anymore
and i'm not one to play house
when the glass bottle is the prize of the game.
-alysia-
Friday, November 18, 2005
07:53 p.m.
And out of no where
You appear to me.
You cling to my spirit
And I’m found walking away.
Turning,
Only to find you-
Unexpected
But carefully planned.
There is no more muscle
For me to offer you.
My knees are bruised
And restless-
My soul more so.
I have bashed my mind upon
The steps of your castle
For days now
And with no return
Have I come to you
With prices
I’ve been willing to pay.
Your light remains cold
And I’m only beginning to dance
In hopes of rain-
In hopes of some sort of release.
Some sort of strength
To prod me to leave.
-alysia-
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