243. Live for the Moment

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Late I lie when all are sleeping.

In my bed tossing and stressing.

I try to think not ‘gain of weeping,

But my mind won’t listen.

I cannot run from the reelings,

Of life movies inwardly playing.

Cannot stop or destroy the feelings,

Which torture yet again.

The pain of living with the truth,

Bleeds me dry, until I lie,

Closed-off and aloof;

I am the walking dead.

I long to get it out of me.

The shame and pain and memories.

There is no way, don’t you agree?

To save my soul anyway?

I could bleed it out my veins.

I could bandage and heal it,

But the truth is as long as I have veins,

The pain will be there too.

Only a moment would I find relief,

By taking care of outwardly-pain;

Then later, heal, and feel only grief,

That the mark is gone.

As I still feel the pain…didn’t heal at all!

No matter how much I bleed it’s there,

So what can I do?  I have to live or fall.

A moment longer.  A moment.

I must live for the moment or die.

Let it all out and cry.

K. Aldaya, 07/23/13

Picture:  “Rainy Night” by GMK9VII on Deviant Art; http://www.deviantart.com/art/Rainy-Night-506473363

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155. Lost Voice

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Tongue-tied…

No words to find,

Within the reasoning of the mind.

Searching, searching, far and wide,

For ways to speak the words confined.

Confused.

The mouth sewn shut,

To seal the emulating smut.

Searching, searching; Chaos fused,

In pursuit of another cut.

Frustrated.

Letters lie lost,

Piercing out a bloody-cost.

Searching, searching,…motion-faded…

Lips present a scarlet, glossed.

Shed no tear,

And mourn no wrong,

For these days continue long.

Redemptions’ voice echoes here,

Speaking out of every wrong.

Tomorrow.

Another day seen,

In an ever-frightening glean.

For unspoken words of sorrow.

Ravage the flesh unclean.

No words,

No words to find,

Within the furor of the mind.

Searching, searching, the un-heards,

For a voice of humans’-kind.

K. Aldaya, 8/2/05

Picture:  “Silenced” by JolsAriella on Deviant Art; http://jolsariella.deviantart.com/art/silenced-207287676

106. Crimson Corridors

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Deep inside there is a need,

To the very soul, to feed.

In echoed voices in the head,

A calling that does heed,

A relentless urge to bleed.

Crimson halls and corridors,

Endless rows of clos’ed doors.

All lead to the same end.

Self-defeating little whores,

Bleeding out scarlet abhors.

Beyond each door there lies,

A flaming heart which cries,

For unmerciless repent.

Until the vile river dries,

And the corridors’ light dies.

K. Aldaya, 11/25/04

Picture: “Corridor to Hell” by William McLaughlin on Flickr; https://www.flickr.com/photos/billmclaugh/2965702055