Re: Last Pages -- Poetry Grace and Insanity

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Date Posted: 12:55:08 02/23/00 Wed
Author: Mors
Subject: Re: Last Pages
In reply to: Paul Douglas 's message, "Last Pages" on 14:34:10 02/22/00 Tue

Hello Paul...A rather bleak and despairing piece. The word "stink" really stinks up that second verse; your words are too flowing to get away with that. Also, a heroin induced dream or imagining would not, to my mind, bring on such a flood of verbiage. Just my thoughts.
Mors

> Hands of moonlight cover the earth,
> blinding in its towering glow,
> as vaporous mist engulfs the night
> and steals away my purity of heart.
>
> A stink of some feeling inside, hope?
> causes me to close the shutters
> and withdraw back into the shadows,
> grasping the needle voraciously.
>
> Oblivion rushes through the veins
> as heroin channels hope to the beyond,
> blood coursing from these empty eyes
> and blanketing my essence in solitude.
>
> My hands reach out from the abyss
> and vacantly drag along the mirror,
> leaden fingers trembling uncontrollably,
> for all that stares back at me is a zombie.
>
> This soul is trying to kill itself time
> after time and the horror is too deep,
> a chaotic shriek builds within my lungs
> and my head pounds into glass.
>
> The mirror shatters more after each strike
> and shards of glass imbed themselves in me,
> my body swaying precariously until the end
> as it crashes onto the hollow, wooden floor.
>
> The glass drives itself further into my skull
> and my eyes cave open, flutter, then close tight,
> my mind wandering in the dreaming scene
> as the blood collects in a crimson pool.
>
> Movement. Time. Change. Drifting.
> Macabre. Tomb. Carcass. Death.

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