I stare at that blazing yellow somewhere in a cold distant land
wrapped in opulent egg whites.
I stand in gloom dressed in frivolous laughter
death and mist my only neighbours.
Death of my dreams
insufferable pain pelted by the wantonness of that veiled hope,
mists along those forgotten paths
I stumble along to find my way.
I relinquish control
lay beaten along the path
waiting for my doom,
comprehending my upcoming destiny.
But then I taste hope,
that filthy sin,
mirage in this underworld;
I crawl to that toxicity with new vigour,
to that mystique cloak in my decadent world.
I bleed, scrape my palms and break my knees
Undaunted I still slither
to that adversity masked in serendipity.
That fluttering hope, spreading it’s lethal aroma
embedding me in an addiction
that rises faster than wildfire inflaming my every dream.
But again I find myself in that dismal land with my wrists slit,
with pain more unbearable
just because of that bitter toxicity.
There laying dead, wheezing on stolen dreams
I see it again in a far off land
that filthy sin, fizzling without it’s next casualty
But I know it will raise it’s head again
at the smallest flicker of survival,
at the slightest beam of moonlight,
because I do know
hope never dies,
it’s merely veiled.
(The highs and lows of hope. Is it venom, that poisonous leech that sets us up for disappointment, makes our loss unbearable? Or is it that blushing sunlight, sparkling bright in our dismal life that paves path to our dreams?)