Jaded. Fragmented. Fallen.
Always Rising.

Sunday, March 19, 2006
02:27 p.m.
eternally yours
depsite being loved like that-
that faint line of dancing
between ridiculous hate
and true love beyond destiny-

you were the one thing to get under my skin
and still make it out alive
without conforming to me and my thirst of blood.

i wonder if that's why
i kept your old skin
that you were so unaccustomed to shedding-
i have it here,
within a box of blood,
as a sign of what never truly was
but eternally wished for
once i threw it all away.
-alysia-

Sunday, March 19, 2006
02:26 p.m.
Mike tells me
mike tells me that it's time to move on-
step out
and take that flame-

the burn only scars
for eternity

and that's much shorter
than lizard's tail of regret.
-alysia-

Sunday, March 19, 2006
02:25 p.m.
Our
a winter- stones thrown-
i guess i never did let go,
because this twist
in a corkscrewed path
has caught me off guard-

it's you holding your breath.

you never imagined the cold to chill like this-
thought the passion
had died away with the spring,
when really summer was just a cover up
for all the pain-
that thin gray shadow that separates
our true love from bitter hate.
-alysia-

Sunday, March 19, 2006
02:21 p.m.
The treasure of the castle
the quiet nights don't leave him alone-
memories lingering in his head, longer
than the booze ever did.

and the scar a top of his chest- he wouldn't
wish it away-
that claw that she stuck him with
is the only thing that remains of her- and the days
of gray in this castle he built
pile higher than the walls.

the tower drowning in music
in a ritual continued, following realization-
she's forever gone
and has forever left-
her spirit the last to go- and remains
his only glimmer of hope
upon a never ending mourning
of what was never treasure,
or treasured to begin with.
-alysia-

Sunday, March 19, 2006
02:19 p.m.
Closet full of shoes
her eyes grow sullen and dark-
too many bruises
falling within the creases that have brought her
this far. this far
falling into nothingness
and the kind of life her parents always thought
she should lead. her shoes don't fit that way.
never did
and she's had years of pretending- a closet
full of newly painted skeletons
prized for their heels and price tags. but material
and straps never did hold her tight-
she leaves that closet door open
and often throws them to the ground
wishing things could be different- wishing
that lyfe wouldn't be so fair.
-alysia-

Sunday, March 19, 2006
02:16 p.m.
Not the way it began
like a disease
clouded and gray. she begins her day
sick to the stomach. there has been no other way
so she doesn't bother to think
about the strangers
that look her way- disdainfully.
there's no more room in the inn- there has never been.
she prefers the cheap motels
and the way
the nylon clings to her skin,
makes her calves sweat
under the leather of her lies.
the moments of night
aren't ones she began dreaming of- painting with-
her blood somehow grew colder
against the world of rape
and hidden promise.
really, no one has a say in the business they've made-
we're all fleas
begging for the flame.
-alysia-

Sunday, March 19, 2006
02:13 p.m.
Certain Angels
unto us a child is born
and into bitterness she's already been formed-
perceptive is the womb
and all the hat eyou carried before her- it's there
burning through her veins
and you wonder
why she's been created this way
a fetus is not deaf
or blind
or dumb to the reception of parents-
well meaning smiles
and the whore's boots tucked into the corner.
it's through living
and losing that innocent skin,
taht was long before stained
by your impurities
that creates an angel like this.
in all likenss
of your fears
and the hate that your devil did make.
-alysia-

Sunday, March 19, 2006
02:12 p.m.
Keeping my heart alive
it's times like this that i disbelieve love-
all the beauty in this world-
blood is too busy running into my eyes
to worry about keeping my heart alive.
-alysia-

Sunday, March 19, 2006
02:10 p.m.
Certain sins
to the murmurs of ghosts
the propaganda of her heart
refuses to let go-
certain sins
are never buried
especially when the passion
exceeds even the night.
fallen leaves
only crunching under her secret feet,
in desperate leaps of wanting to hold on-
to be carried and made known
to a light
that falls softly to candles
and romance in a night
where clearly, it's a whore's skin
fallen to the floor.
-alysia-

Sunday, March 19, 2006
02:07 p.m.
Displays of leap frog
tying the knot
of her freedom-
she does her best to exhcange
her pride and sex
for a ring
whose sparkle never did tempt her.
but laughter can win any day
and a man whose lust is
frozen
is far beyond game.
all the displays of leap frog
brought you to that.
prizes on days that were gray
and nights
never wanted to remember
to compare to her heart
to a child's worth-
him swearing fool-
a lullaby muttered under breath
and given stage.
-alysia-