Sounds Like The Radio

~*~

My presence
is a dark cloud
hanging
over my head
seeping into
their lives.
Where have
I gone?
I am lost,
lost to you,
to me,
and no one
knows
where I might
end up.
Those icy eyes
kill me,
slowly,
and perhaps
one day
I shall kill
the dark light
behind them.
She
is that which
destroys me
from the inside,
corrupting
and disintegrating
everything
I had pieced
together so nicely
inside me.
My head will
explode,
my stomach clenches,
I cannot breathe.
The door is before
me
so easy to open,
but so much lies
behind it.
(my insanity)
Am I crazy,
now?
I guess
it is not a sudden
thing,
like I had hoped,
but a gradual
seeping
of darkness
into my mind.
There is still some light,
still salvation.
But the door, it
beckons me.
Nine, nine
is the time when
all shall be
destroyed,
all might be lost.
I must face my
fears, face that
which will destroy me,
kill me.
I cannot be here
any longer.
If I do not leave
here,
I will die! There is no way
around it.
It will happen, yes,
sometime,
but if I cannot
escape, it will be now.
Am I a romantic?
No, I speak the
Truth.
There is no hopeful
gleaming,
no gilded
savior for me.
I am the last of my kind,
those who live in
the world of Non.
I am nothing,
inside.
Just a jumble of
words and songs,
spewing out of my
fingers.
The Mysteries,
are what I seek,
but
if I die before I
find them, all is lost,
gone.
My heart
beats so fast,
I cannot calm it.
Adrenaline
pumps through
my life veins,
through my
fragile core.
My life is nothing,
but everything.
Am I insane,
you ask?
No,
just lost, lost.
For every equation
there is something
to balance it.
Is it her?
The icy
feline woman-child,
who holds
my sanity in her hands.
She will not be kind.
But she will not
hear my cries,
for they are inside
me, rebounding
through my mind.
I will escape;
I must.
The other night,
I dreamt I was
Queen of the Mysteries,
Fool of the World.
I must make it.
When I transcend
this world,
all will be saved,
not you, not me.
The silence, yes,
that will be saved.
It is everywhere,
everything.
only to be interrupted
by that which is ugly
and evil.
Sound, her,
those are my
enemies.
I feel no hatred,
just sadness
that there are some
thing that I could never love.
Her body will rot
in a coffin,
her hair scraggled
and unkempt for a century.
Oh!
The irony of it all!
But I will watch
it all, through
the ages.
I will watch from
Non,
and find her spirit,
hold it,
caress it,
then crush it.
I must succeed,
I must not take
vengeance.
To be pure and
unloved,
yes,
that is freedom.
My mind will release
itself from its
boundaries,
the door will be destroyed.
No longer will I
see her in the
mirror,
icy eyes
killing me. I will
be free!
Nothing will stop
me but myself,
and the maiden
who holds me will leave.
The crone will
take me then,
the mother does not want
me, anymore.
I can feel it
inside me.
There are no children
there.
But I will pass through
this universe,
and onto another,
only to find that
everything I left
behind was that
which I needed.
Bravery cannot be
saved up for later,
the more it is
used, the more
there is.
I lack it.
Sanity, my estranged
friend,
take me into your arms,
just for a little
while,
and hold me, love me.
I have not yet
found my place,
my land.
It waits for me,
patiently.
The Non will find
me, hold me,
but no,
never love.
There is a lack of
emotion
that I try to attain,
but I fail,
I fail.
It would be perfect
if my emotions
were no longer a forest,
but a garden,
cared for and tender.
I could escape
the panic that
grips me,
all would be weeded out.
Hatred does not live
in my forest,
thankfully,
but its dark ways
and winding paths
confuse me,
and lead me nowhere.
If only I could
kill.
Then I would go to
her,
hold her neck in my
hands, and cut
off all breath.
I would delight
in the panic
of those icy eyes,
her perfect nails
clawing at my hands.
But that cannot happen.
The evil in me
is carefully
blocked off, locked
in her own little
room, with
just a peephole so
I can look in.
I see her,
Namari,
and I know she
wants to eat me,
taste my soul
in her mouth.
But the door
is tightly locked,
she can only squeeze
her narrow fingers
out underneath the
door, clawing
at me
with such a ferocity
that I run.
The panic sets in
again, as the
bell tolls,
Death.
But not all is
lost, not yet.
I may survive,
I may get away.
The Land of Non
calls me
to its hiding place,
a place where neither
she
nor Namari can
find me.
I will be safe,
at long last.
All depends on
The eighty-fourth
bell-toll,
the time,
the fear
I can make it,
I must be strong.
I must find
bravery,
it must be somewhere
inside of me,
somewhere.
But if birds can
fly in the day,
then I will fly
at night,
my batwings
caressing my ears.
I am no prophet,
not a witch,
my land is not yours,
inside my fingers
lives a separate soul,
one who holds
my hands hostage,
forces me to speak the truth.
My words are
never thought out,
they just flow on the paper and
I read them,
hearing them in
my head for the
first time.
Am I insane?
No,
I am strong,
I am weak,
I am the last hope.
My head
tingles, my feet
are sore.
But somewhere,
they call to me,
wondering
where I have gone.
One day,
I will find them,
and I will be freed
of those icy eyes
in the mirror,
the hate I see,
and do not understand.
Why, why hate another
when she has
done nothing to you?
Why hate?
It is a pointless
emotion,
it needs to be weeded out,
she must not know.
All words must
come to a close,
the stench of
death
is near me,
it hangs in my cloud,
smothering those who walk near me.
Am I insane?
Maybe.
But, perhaps,
I am the only sane
person left…

~*~