Untitled #2 ( Beast )

8/6/05

Deep beneath stilled emotions

Buried behind slowed blood

And shreds of crumbling feelings,

Stirs a battered, broken creature.

Staring from between the tangle

Of wanting and losing,

It peers with bloodshot eyes

Up through the canopy of uncaring

That masks and hides it so well.

A thousand cuts scar its hide,

Some great, some so small

They can hardly be perceived

Unless one knows where to look.

Some bruised, some bandaged,

They show that it was,

At one time or another

Both cared for and kicked.

Always, it tries to hide

To blend back into the silences

Left behind with faulty words,

Yet if it catches but a single small hint

Of a fluttering opportunity,

It prowls from its burrow

And stalks through the wending

Twisted paths of do or don’t,

Perhaps to catch the wings

Of that which called it forth,

Or receive yet another

Stab, slice, or cut from

The sharpened edges of words

And actions wielded like blades.

Some would see this

And say that its

Persistence is pathetic.

But the compulsive lure of hope

Is too much for it to stay in darkness

And ignore the possibility

Of a final sweet ending

To its eternal hunt.