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SCARS
Scars crawl over my body like slow worms feeding on the skin of days and years gone by, memories of nights gone astray or a dim daylight bleeding, beneath the wheels of excess where once I sought the mystical ecstasies and the soulful exigencies of the one true lover; before and after, through trial by the blade, ordeal by fire and water... I remain the same, more or less. And though some may say, "He's lost," or worse yet, "We wish he were lost!" I remain; whether standing or stumbling clear through, my thoughts are so often with you-- you of the golden, dreamlike sunset and the lingering fog...this seems like such a part of my life now, my heart wrapped in a cool, foggy mist, it's how I've learned to exist. In fog...in the cool, enveloping damp... this hides my heart and soothes the scars; to pass the time away, I drink deeply. Another morning I toast another evening passed through; I dream...vast heavens beneath the ever-compelling stars... and yet it's you that I think of most, my love, my heavenly ghost, slipped far, far away from me it would seem. Yet these gifts I still carry, awaiting just one more chance to give, with thoughts and feelings that leave me so weary...I hope and I pray for that one magical day when the whisper of a new way to live will perhaps show that we, who once thought we were lost, can once again stay and play and those memories that remain cloud-hidden can simply waste away and fade like scars, which only fade but never fade away. Yes, someday I will find peace within my own memories; this hope exists, these thoughts still exist. The future...when the love of another (is it you who will carry me through?) perhaps will silence the endless hurt, the vain echoes of the pain and the shame, the weeping of my tormented body, my garden of scars. Will we learn together to worship this life within and without us? Will we reach for the heavens that lie in our very grasp...will we stand, hand in hand, arm in arm... or will we fall, breathless as we spin wide awake beneath the timeless stars?
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A PHANTOM HEART
He lives in a corner where his mind often dwells in shadow and mist...
the first time they kissed, the tears, the fears, the endless laughing spells,
darkness more comfort now than the harsh light of day;
the room stands pale as scars, the tales and travails faraway;
a phantom heart never tells...
as nevermore will the stars and the moon light the skies in his eyes or his untoward way.
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