Waking dreams

She calls me
The seductress of old
Her fingernails
Tear at my skin
Her screams
bring me to my knees
I miss her voice
The way she hurts
The pleasure of the hunger
And the fear of reprimand
The poison she offers
Brings acid from my throat
Only quenched by fear
Fear of my mistresses demands
Yet still I can't back away
She waits for the day
When I'll falter
And fall in love
With her again.

Experiment in metaphor.

Slipping from the window
My feet can't reach the ground
Contemplating falling...
Who would catch me now?
Oddly silent evening
Save the ever moaning of the trees
If laws could be broken
And decisions made undone
But alas the choice was made
The price in blood
Will soon be paid.

Errant thoughts and experimentation in punctuation

Misty memories peer
Into thinly veiled mist.
Out of the night
And into the light
Some laugh --
Some cry --
None will survive.
The waking bell of morning
Sounding through the trees.
I cannot help, but wonder,
Have you forgotten me?

A proposition

I know of only five or six people personally who have actually read this blog. Therefore this is a test of readership of one person in particular with whom I am too timid to openly send a facebook message to. Reason being I honestly don't deserve to talk to them. My desire to speak with this person comes from a morbid and self-destructive idea and desire to make peace with someone whom I greatly wounded. I know this will only make me miserable, yet I can't seem to find peace with myself until I do. The main reason why I will not venture into the blue abyss of facebook is that text is too callous for this task. "Hi, I'm sorry I tore your heart and left you for someone else, want to get lunch and catch up?" ...yeah... I think whomever reads this is getting my point. Also I am under a most probable delusional assumption that this person wants to speak with me... at all. He probably has seen me on campus and has avoided me skillfully.

If I know me at all. I will be weighing the pros and cons of this decision and never do anything until I awkwardly run into him at the library or some other generic location...

Sincerely,
me

p.s. "a most probable delusional" yeah that was great grammar...