In dark lit hours

where the imagination entertains

in the house of subconscious will

my mind is more free than when the suns light is plenty

I find my self overtaken

by lonesome sorrow, an inconsolable grief

which can only be compared to that of longing

longing for that which I have had and lost

a comparison of fruit and fruit

of hate and hate

of anguish and the feelings of mine own

It’s these dim hours

that awake in my thoughts

and bring my wildest fears to truth

these depths of blackened panic

is is these such eternities that host my most tremendous dream

to be called a nightmare by some

to me the name falls short

for these aching moment will be

the end of me

To see his face set in cold stone

his skin pale and often battered

it’s as if I look into a mirror

and see myself through him

now a reflection

inside of out

a broken shadowed frame

to dream of the death of my love

is to spend each night dreaming of the end of me.

Posted in Uncategorized
She’s acid
•September 10, 2010 • Leave a Comment

She looks at me

no joy shining in her eyes

she hisses

through yellow crooked teeth

I know I’ll never be quite good enough

her unapproving sneer reminds me

& so I go alone

into my quiet welling

the pills

the plant

the glass

the powder

the bottle

I close my eyes and reach out

which will it be this time

my hand settles upon a box

and then I take the pill within

and suddenly I’m Alice

this world my wonderland

I hide here in my rabbit hole

the queen can’t find me here

the room spins and I laugh

just a tap of my ruby red slippers

can send me back home


~ by MandyJenae on February 15, 2011.

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