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Literature Text
I went to sleep to memories of a cherished dream
with a silken dress and veil father holding my arm
and one I love waiting at aisle's end
Before I could reach them
I awoke, anxious, angry
Ghosts flittering about
Darting from shadow to shadow
hiding in the corner of my eyes
Ghosts of memories
Ghosts of emotion
Ethereal music playing in the background.
"They call it stormy Monday, but Tuesday's just as bad"
It seems to come from beneath my bed
bringing with it the ghosts
demons of anger, pain, sorrow, love
"They call it stormy Monday, but Tuesday's just as bad"
glimpses of happy memories taunt me
hiding in the corner of mind
but every time I turn and grasp for them they transform
"Oh, Wednesday is worst and Thursday, oh so sad"
in their place
past occurrences that I thought long berried
laughing wickedly as I try to push them away
"The eagle flies on Friday now, Saturday I'll go out to play"
In the music and lyrics I think I see
the remnants of something beautiful
a tattered and tarnished cherished memory
"Oh, the eagle, the eagle flies on Friday Saturday I'll go out and play"
I cup it in my hands
worried that in its fragile state
it might fall to pieces
"Sunday morning you go to church, and I fall on my knees and pray"
Only to find it has grown thorns that pierce my very soul
and as I drop it
and it falls
hitting floor
it shatters into shards of despair.
"I say, lord have mercy, lord have mercy on me"
the song utters a plea then dies a quivering death.
with a silken dress and veil father holding my arm
and one I love waiting at aisle's end
Before I could reach them
I awoke, anxious, angry
Ghosts flittering about
Darting from shadow to shadow
hiding in the corner of my eyes
Ghosts of memories
Ghosts of emotion
Ethereal music playing in the background.
"They call it stormy Monday, but Tuesday's just as bad"
It seems to come from beneath my bed
bringing with it the ghosts
demons of anger, pain, sorrow, love
"They call it stormy Monday, but Tuesday's just as bad"
glimpses of happy memories taunt me
hiding in the corner of mind
but every time I turn and grasp for them they transform
"Oh, Wednesday is worst and Thursday, oh so sad"
in their place
past occurrences that I thought long berried
laughing wickedly as I try to push them away
"The eagle flies on Friday now, Saturday I'll go out to play"
In the music and lyrics I think I see
the remnants of something beautiful
a tattered and tarnished cherished memory
"Oh, the eagle, the eagle flies on Friday Saturday I'll go out and play"
I cup it in my hands
worried that in its fragile state
it might fall to pieces
"Sunday morning you go to church, and I fall on my knees and pray"
Only to find it has grown thorns that pierce my very soul
and as I drop it
and it falls
hitting floor
it shatters into shards of despair.
"I say, lord have mercy, lord have mercy on me"
the song utters a plea then dies a quivering death.
This has not been edited yet. Expression of my thoughts as I woke anxious a little while ago. I would rather someone else edited it if they want something more refined. I cannot stand looking at it.
I blame painguins
I blame painguins
Comments1
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Sometimes our initial thoughts written are best left unedited. It definitely has a raw beauty. I read it somewhat rhythmic, yet also as prose and song.