October 1982
and yet another old poem of mine...written in veiled reference to my Father
IT HURTS;
Broken lines,
thoughts that drift
gently across the
lifeless sky.
It rains.
Slow and subtle
impinging upon my
somber moods, acting
as my tears.
A wild hope.
A wish of him.
The violent breaking
of a twisted heart
and a taste of
water and salt
overcomes me.
To run, get away in a
split instant. Flee the
false comfort of
Life's womb.
Another broken line...
another drifting thought.
She yells at me for
leaving my room a mess
~so irrelevant.
I still run (fantasizing)
an imprissioned princess
dreaming of escaping her cell
to freedom...I run recklessly
to adulthood without warning.
{and discover more broken lines}
and yet another old poem of mine...written in veiled reference to my Father
IT HURTS;
Broken lines,
thoughts that drift
gently across the
lifeless sky.
It rains.
Slow and subtle
impinging upon my
somber moods, acting
as my tears.
A wild hope.
A wish of him.
The violent breaking
of a twisted heart
and a taste of
water and salt
overcomes me.
To run, get away in a
split instant. Flee the
false comfort of
Life's womb.
Another broken line...
another drifting thought.
She yells at me for
leaving my room a mess
~so irrelevant.
I still run (fantasizing)
an imprissioned princess
dreaming of escaping her cell
to freedom...I run recklessly
to adulthood without warning.
{and discover more broken lines}
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