The Art of Dieing

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By <font color="#FFFFFF">The Space Between</font> •

Twenty something, on the ground Clouds are moving, earth still spins 'round Selflessly drained, internal flame The brain hysterical, the body tame Close those eyes, block it out The faith is gone, spiritual drought One dimensional, hardly alive A heart flutter, the breathing subsides Abysmal black approaching fast Horrible imagery, a tainted past The thoughts grow cold, float away with the wind Another tortured soul, that had to give in.

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April 29, 2006 06:05Sandwich Massacre

i can feel it. i'm there. lying there and feeling everything leak out of my pores and into the ground and just dissappear... the imagery and the feelings are so tangible! i think many of us who find ourselves drowing in the words of poetry are people who have relinquished themselves like this. i've learned though, that sometimes we need to let go entirely, let the intensity of the pain undulate through us one final time and then excrete it until we feel like nothingness... only then can we truly feel some sort of rebirth. or stay stagnant forever.... but there is little stagnation in good poetry. this is really wonderful.
i'm on allpoetry more often than this site. i saw you left a comment on "shelly's song" saying that i inspired you to write again. if you aren't making that up, i have to say that is one of the most wonderful things anyone has ever said to me. its one thing to hear people "liking" your work... it's another to cause inspiration. only then does my public expression of my poetry not exist in vain.
KEEP WRITING.

April 29, 2006 06:13Sandwich Massacre

oh and also, a poem i wrote that kinda reminded me of this one is "the waking eye" you should check it out. i think you'll like it :D it's somewhere at the bottom of my page, one of the more recent ones i wrote.

June 8, 2006 08:47User

Great job...well written and expressed..