386. Sandstorm

Sandstorm. Sandstorm.

Sands drift around…

Up in the air,

Then back to the ground.

Sandstorm. Sandstorm.

The wind is your friend…

Pushing you on,

But when does it end?

Sandstorm. Sandstorm.

Sand’s in my lungs.

It’s hard to breathe,

And you’ve just begun.

Sandstorm. Sandstorm.

Grains full of rage.

Can we start over?

Write a new page?

Sandstorm. Sandstorm.

I’ll suffocate!

Hours have passed,

And it’s getting late.

Sandstorm. Sandstorm.

Words propagate.

We can’t start over;

It is too late.

Sandstorm. Sandstorm.

Reach to the door…

Slam it behind you;

That’s what they’re for.

Sandstorm. Sandstorm.

Left in your dust.

Please don’t come back,

I’m starting to rust.

Sandstorm. Sandstorm.

Leave me alone.

My skin is cracking.

I’m turning to bone.

Sandstorm. Sandstorm.

Dusts float your way.

I’m lost in your words.

I’m fading away.

Sandstorm. Sandstorm.

You move away.

Yet now I am dust.

And dust drifts away.

K. Aldaya, 2/22/17

Picture: “Sandhouse Sienna Room” by Cary Wolinsky; http://www.carywolinskyphotographs.com/sandhouse-series#/sandhouse-blue-1-2-1/; https://limeduck.com/feast-for-the-eyes/

379. Don’t Stoke the Fire!

giphy28

The rage is blazing,

Under the surface.

You stoke fires you know nothing about,

And expect not to be burnt,

When they spread out.

Blistering beneath.

Skin searing; screaming!

You throw kindle on it with a smirk,

Then it scorches you when near,

And they’re the jerk?

K. Aldaya, 12/27/16

Picture: Phoenix from X-Men: The Last Stand; Originally posted on Fan Pop; http://www.fanpop.com/clubs/x-men-the-movie/images/33137210/title/x-men-fanart; http://giphy.com/gifs/x-men-E5yr7u9Tn5mgw

144. The Canvas

red-lips-pale

I will not be still,

And void, go out without a fight.

I have stared life in the face,

And beat death in its’ eyes…

With spent love and grace.

I will not hideout,

Without an etched portrait to fill,

The white canvas sights’ place,

Into the hands of fate,

‘Til blind deaths’ erase.

I will not be still,

And blankly accept emptiness.

No seeking step nor trace,

Left to show the cut-hole,

Of deaths’ imprinted embrace,

Onto my bruised and bloody face.

K. Aldaya, 5/29/05

Picture:  Photographer Unknown; http://www.eyeshadowlipstick.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/11/red-lips-pale.jpg