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Pillowpants's blog: "The Devil's Workshop"

created on 03/19/2011  |  http://fubar.com/the-devil-s-workshop/b340201  |  1 followers

The things she says and gives to you;

she said and gave them to me, too.

Yet since I ripped her hooks from me

I bleed from wounds I cannot see.

I do what's right but I do it all wrong.

I'll hurt all my life, try to go on.

I am one of her tattered dolls behind her many secret walls.

She's a collector

An emotional specter

She keeps you plugged in even when you disconnect her.

She gives you a name

Says she feels the same

She breaks your defenses as part of the game.

How long has she played?

For years I'm afraid.

Her toys piled in closets, neglected and frayed.

She acts a good care

But she's only there

Long enough to make sure her toys land in her lair.

Couldn't watch her be a hypocrite

or see her go numb as she lay in her pit.

My heart is still split and I chomp at the bit

but at least I don't suffer as a voyeur to it.

Constantly led from behind,

she set all the rules that were often unkind.

My soul in a bind and my teeth often grind

My door is still open but I lowered the blind.

Paper thin, I dragged my feet

and dried my glistening eye.

I hanged my head, cold and dead,

at the place where I would die.

With none who would see me 

get covered with earth

I took one more step

with all I was worth.

The weight on my back

made one step become two.

I ran with the strain

as was all I could do.

I couldn't turn back

to return to my death

and the chains flew as ribbons

in the wake of my breath.

Life filled my lungs

and blood filled my brain.

The burden I bore

is a runaway train.

My hands were like lead

now they raise to the sky

and with hope they dry love

from my glistening eye.



Emotions new

are memories old

and moments that we cannot hold.

We feel for only

seconds brief

then feelings turn to faint belief.

We are not what

we used to be

for what we are is presently.

Your sight will slowly

change with you

and what you held, you now just view.

Take every detail

you can now

before it's all different somehow.

The fleeting seconds

of today

are barely here then gone away.


My fantasies, though soundly sleep

stir quite awake in me.

My fingers linger twixt letters yet,

they never hit a key.

Guitar, the love my hands address

the body my arms hold,

sang warmly at her neck's caress.

Tonight her voice is cold.

This chair is jail. This house a tomb.

That bed is the abyss.

Could suffering cease if just my cheek

suffered but a kiss?

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8 years ago
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