For It Is Today That I Am Born

by Andy Riverbed


And I open my eyes to feel the pain of light; tears accumulate instantaneously. To be told what is a fear from the words heard spoken by air. Spread my hands and feel sensations of unfolding; using tools to cleanse the lacerations of my face, they bind onto its carapace. I cannot! Will not! Tolerate any more! Shut my eyes and awaken once again, unsure if this is just a ceaseless game.

The silence that speaks confides in me; he shows trust and unfailing sympathy, threatens with toils and hardships. I plead for pain! A moment for the jubilation of delinquency; pulsing shocks release words that disrupt the internal being. The silence that speaks; it speaks its nature, not mine.

Fear. What is a fear? Void, vacuous, empty; to attack headfirst new oppressors, the structure is frequented, shattering in consequence to the invasion of a notorious infernal being.

The sweating expands over my lips to roll up and unveil my grandiloquent veins; my eyes have taken a sound beating, my heart reeks of misuse. The heat surrounding the contortion covering the skin of my throttle, I am unable to remove it, for each and every follicle will be ripped from it casing. Is it pain that I entreated?

Movement

Vulture, your neck is flopping and attempts of climbing the broken ladder give amusement. Go on glancing, it is of no use; still-faced and positioned forward, she is never to return. It is true, you nurtured my escape, but I believe you should pursue another way: try per say... substance. Your movements have quickly come to disgust me.

Do you see the scars? Picture the dancing man, round with a sword’s hairstyle, drenched in fiery red stockings and leather garments. That smile that protrudes is the murder of dozens. Holes, blotches on a leper’s skin; the landscape is tarnished by forces unknown, uncontrollable, all knowing, but none said.

Repose

Repose is sweet, far, far from the unheeding heat. Dry sugar to your mouth as you feel raindrops exit when massaged. A cyst, cool your own petard eyes that die with wayfaring. Continuos tensions torment these sentiments, logic begins to be pounded by passion’s wrath, and it decides!

And I scare the chickens!


Landing

Chosen location; decision made respecting darkness’ pace, slowly encloses, such as that I am witness to envelopment; the skin parts and rubs again and again into my forehead. I trust the Devil to see me through; on his property lies the gutter water that mirrors my future. Continued voyage across these roads, unseen coming; preoccupied by those hidden in the trees, invisible in-between the jail cells present. Long forgotten, the beforehand plan has been lost, but can be found inside the compartments of a woman who by placing her head on your chest will compress it into a mere drawing on a piece of paper.

The faintest light, a gift from sky’s mercy consoles me. Soon I will be his, to be used as chosen. Perpetual alteration between quiescence and surveillance, wars of another species, monstrous inbred creatures inflicted with severe emotional needs. It hurts, a physical reaction around my middle back; sad reflection of interaction with half-assed excuses, always following. I will slash if you dare revert aggressively against me!

Willingly withstanding all trail-slaying, unable to enter insentience, to be anesthetized and enter that state of metamorphosis; cocoon. When the sun returns I will break out of my shell. Oh sunlight! Do not burn my virgin skin!

Today a break, much more to claim. Doubts that the monotonous sounding silence, the supposed tranquility will be prolonged. Actually forced to produce, it is the only ale! Eyes fail in aiding the lowering of a two-toned heartbeat.

A nice touch, abstinence from the crust; manipulated by that third conscious. Try not to listen to him, he severs all.

A Stand

Do you deny yourself dear thought? This is the way to succumb over than marathon pipe dream; yellow chicks aimed to be burned, disguised in different colors for the sake of mass consumption. Take the plate set up on the front mirror’s lens. The ones who would incite never approached. Am I victorious? Wonder ahead for day surely comes! The lone shining light walks above some. No dilution, optima, to gratify with smiles of benevolence; he speaks with the voice of a senior’s regret.

And I will stand and watch those clouds run away so rapidly, away from me; before I implored, but I was only afraid, but am no longer; I look forward as you do cloud; straight ahead and with pride and power.

Grey arctic icebox obligates my all to shiver as the hyperborean winds have pocketed my sedated driver with substances I’ve never experimented; he is unavailable for comment, supposed disappearance or accident. Green keeps me grounded because in-between my darling green, I speak to you; you are my dowager queen; I know you wear such beautiful appraisal, where vibrant colors are always plentiful.

I have murdered your brother!

No mercy upon you! You preached pest repeated in inconvenient taste. So I sang a song, aggressive in nature, quite pressured by the sin committed; but you are gone and I am glad; by killing one bird, I saved the other.

Returned Repose

Contagious of the breeding, the detestable, the steadily rising heat unbearable. Calls to that known infernal fire; lift your arm, watch the water drip, observe the skin, circled portions rise in unison.

Look below, want so dearly to avoid, rock in pocket, give out that smile which is insignificance, it lays face first on the street, it has no choice, I see its day come, poor thing, so drenched in apathy. It is only common interaction, designed with desires to choose destination.

It is a false remorse, a sad belief; stupid rhetoric photographers imitate with pathetic spectaculars.

And the dogs have come to respect me!

I remember it now in intervening instances between my sleep; my face would stretch and mold into a rubbery plastic texture. I have seen the truth; its mouth open is a scream... Eyelids flopped and ever-growing. Future? A new fear to grave.

On Arrival

A test; tonight no release; vagrant employees never progress; the leader goes on ahead, ignorant of philosophy. A mask of civility when your dress is of the most primitive fabric given to daughter’s eye.

On Observation

Fashioned in blue while his other enters emptiness’ black. Passion’s war paint entraps the neck; pointing in three separate directions at one exact instance, but do not forget; they are the pale-face.

Backwards cap, nigger sun-glass; I’ll let you watch your own. He is there, still, observing stones; beauties in the lifeless, not even deadly existent. Nothing more than broken trails of the past.

Pink child, I would part your lips, kiss, bite and nibble, always alternating. You do not seem dead to me, as do they, but alive and ready to act. Exposed by my will to jump upon you without consent and go as far as I could at that given moment.

Such peace.

All is given plastic wrap clarity; watch no boundaries in sight. Scrutinize the seas and listen to the usual animal pass underneath; ladder’s rim taunts callously. One’s eyes are never cut out, always on breach, trespassing every point to pickle sweep slightest sign of intrusion. Not even the best friend is trusted; keep them all at distance.

Awakening

Night’s new bed design, nothing closer than heaven, bestowing its powers on Florida’s fountain. New cushioning for used framework; extreme illuminations run through the motor. Put on hold, hand up and dry. Derelict days, the blind runner does not pause, here or far his routine will be reanimated.

Legitimate surround sounds of a man with the U-V colored facemask runs forward eye always on my behind. Football team, low intellect, large chested and far away; antibiotic yellow potent angel; male adult proposes with a potion aged seventeen times green. Prepare to exhaust the engine and parade in purely cold.

Rasta hat wearing mermen with human legs, into the sea he descends.

Failure

Time speaks out about the man who fails to be painted godly. That face that hates be converted to shame; gaining every time he denies your question. Hunchbacked grave, gaining speed entry to the cemetery that embraces dreamer’s faith. With squared gloves on he piles on the shower of approved conduct and just reasoning.

Curtains do not rise with hardest pulling of strings. Exterior panoramas are not distinguishable and the blade cuts at different angles. The poor elven tree stumps that have now tired, saddened and give signs of a melancholy pace, when before they would jump and applaud with pure satisfaction; symptoms of portal passing in-between opposite poles.

You have surrendered!

Was the façade necessary? Was it for reasons of your hate for them? Or was it your misery of their hate of you? You are untold and invisible, avoidable to all’s slight mind. Just another runt from the common litter, linger for prescience, come and die. So evacuate! Not even your stench calls for attention, more of a symbol than an act.


Copyright © 2007 by Andy Riverbed

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