Waiting in Parallel

Just some mornings

For no reason, Prisms and glass shards

You just feel screaming inside.

Between screams,                                                    Shiny Black Porcelain Doves

little voices, little puzzled voices.

Some mornings, not even if bright, not even if foggy damp

Can’t run far enough away                                     Shelves cluttered by the Past

from everyone.                                                                   Misty dews cover all risk

Like in dreams suite, you run and run and run

Never being able to run far enough away from everyone.

You still hear the voices, you still feel the screams.

I crawled headfirst into a box.                             Statues, painted children unseen

was trapped. Unable to breath

boiled in panic, coffin dark.                              Yet serene fragrant drifts in pastels

I worked my way deep into a jagged tunnel.

Unable to move my arms.                                           breezes smooth. Gentle breath


I must have screamed and I woke gasping for air.

We waited on your rainbow pills

to grasp hold our dreams.



Surrounded by smiles,                                                                    Every thing still

surrounded by knowing how it will be.

Just some mornings                                                          Trees woven nest barren,

or no reason,

You just feel screaming inside.                                                           no movement.

You live in terror, fear, so long

you insult dreams.                                                           Treacherous Felines, silent

Cackle at loss

You miss no one and not even sure                         Fathers taste fear,anger ages

how to cackle.                                                          Evil beauty Queens draw glances

Can’t run far enough away from everyone

And yet still hear the screaming.                                                          Sun etches all

Worrying each day, staring each day                            fading even desert flowers

Wondering each day if you are done

The words stopped coming and you are not done.

Ladle what remains in a ancient pottery jar                Whatever made it squirm

Sealing tight with wax, just to begin again.


Pauses to gain control

Chisel stones glazed

Gem Ruby eyes,

an Emperor’s egg golden

glare glazed to hungry victim


We Wait

                                           and slumber returns peace


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