February 27, 2009

  • I saw her waiting in the terrace

    bloodshot eyes screaming for attention

    never felt so intoxicated by imperfection

    a flawed lifeless body stirring in the box

    I took her eyes and immortalized her in the frame

    The wind tore at her with malicious intention

    I tasted her nape in a memory I meant to blurr

    A voice resonating in the quiet corridors of my unconscious

    Delving and reveling in a time where I no longer belonged

    Despair... she was the hanging corpse in my attic

    the smell so nauseating I inhaled her scent

    Floral fragrance encapsulated my senses

    I saw the box

    the eyes still decapitate my hope

    Imperfection yields imperfection

    this beautiful burden I entomb

    yet... her murderous gaze looms