Tuesday, March 04, 2008
The mist surrounds, it suffocates,
the kiss of death, the eternal light,
call it what you want,
the saviour, the snatcher,
it means different things to different people,
no saint, nor sinner
is out of its sinister reach.
to me,
it means i never got the last say,
i swallow my goodbyes,
i choke on my regrets,
for the hand of neverland never relinquishes its prize,
nor do the dead from beyond the grave.
so if you're there,
staring down to us,
read my mind, my thoughts, my prayers,
and hear all the words unsaid,
for all the times i could not say it,
i never stopped thinking it,
feeling it, believing it.
so as i cower in my shell,
vulnerable as the newborn,
wretched as the dying,
i seek not sanctuary,
nor deliverance,
but that it's not too late to let you know.
- 8:20 AM -