the dawn sounded fiercly. it was a tribulation of what was to come. a synopsis into the ears of men and women and children. all on the ground, laid out, waiting.
in the house, it screamed utter silence. every crease, every cranny enveloped and dripping with the murderous sound of nothing. it was uneasy; it was about to tip and pull everyone over, the glass would break today.
in the garden lay remnants of what was. the soil was polluted with scraps of sharp metal and the flowers lay limp, void of springtime exuberance.
...this is the beginning of war
olivia | 11/11/2003 08:43:00 PM
a moment. caught in your eye. a glimpse into nostalgia, but lost with a wink. you tell me remember and i tell you forget. the moments you made for me only remind me of a past to desperate to understand. the thoughts work in my head and turn over and over like a sleepless night. insomnia is comfort now, it makes it okay to think like this. water runs clear over my hands. wash away everything. like sitting down in the shower. it is desperation, a calling for redemption. ((because sitting on the cold tile floor, water pouring and running over your bare skin. because you are vulnerable, truly and purely. because it's the moment where you could lose everything. because it's a deep longing to give up. because you remember this from last night or last week or last year. because it takes so much less to hide tears when you are on the floor, in the flood. because you think all this will save you.)) stab the white rabbit.
olivia | 10/26/2003 01:14:00 AM
smudge the light off my face. smudge the blood ridden hands off my soul. smudge me away. a realization, a revelation, another night. this time, there is light in the dark. the dark is pierced with light. thrice thrice thrice. three for gaia. she is birth. she is life. she is death. threes for balance. like a celtic star atop a christmas tree. can i have evergreen in my salad? toss it with your hard work. use everything you've got b.c it's not enough. run, runner, running. cloak yourself with night. with a black sheath. fingers on the floor. flouncing about everywhere. they won't bite. they are a tease to scare away your inner being. we do not like righteous souls here. the corruption runs deep like heroin to a junkie. veins swimming with an old hit that still is eating you. sand is disappearing in your desert. can i turn over your glass? the weight would be a good shatter in coverance. shelter. there, eyes undress me. they take my skin, like a kitty, they want my warmth. a skin coat intertwined with the rope of gore. twisted rotting veins, festering wounds dug from flesh. the scars make it worth nothing or everything. who is the buyer of my tears? i am naked to them, so vulnerable. like rape of being. of life. groping hands into my head and my flesh. i thought these were mine. now: i am molested with thoughts of shiny gleams and severe edges. but like a glass heart dropped into the sea of praisers of the vending machine god. pray for prizes. or prey for prizes. i will become a shadow in this light, life. no substance. just abuse.
olivia | 10/21/2003 11:51:00 PM
[a dark faerie] tale filled with stories of impurity and self-destruction. ideas wrapped gracefully around your inner insanity. like an asp, around a girl's arm, waiting to strike, pain her awake. everything intertwined delicately like a thorn bush-- so beautiful, yet so dangerous. one prick and she is running in slow motion, every moment a lifetime in this pain, in this light. she is running in slow motion. she is running from fate, from the weird sisters that tell lies of foul and fair. laughter heard all around. not nice, not curious, but the laughter of lust, lust for blood, for bones, for skin so white it haunts your being. the king's court is at trial. they are the witnesses to a crime. eyes are scrutinizing the bunny. he is scared and weeping in the dark corner. they laugh louder now knowing i can hear them. knowing i am listening in to this horror. when at last all this stops it is out of relief. the innocence is lost. the bunny is dead now. they scared him with images of darkness and demons. his virgin blood is forever chaste. talk me into staying. manipulate me with words too large for this pain. a moment's piece is broken. it will never be whole again. 'it's only just begun,' the string will cut with sharpness, a cycle of forever, of regurgitation of life.
olivia | 10/13/2003 09:52:00 PM
a heart hung heavy on a cross.
waiting for redemption.
the limbs lay limply before a crowd.
dying for perfection.
olivia | 10/13/2003 09:33:00 PM
sonnet 4.
bunny! bunny! bunny! holding a knife.
twisted maniacal grin; matching shines.
virgin-- an untouched-- white fur stained with life.
festering wound inside his head dines lines
of blood, gore through his eyes a prideful gleam.
the clamour of quiet screams with mourning.
his sanity unfolding at the seam.
a book opened to a gaunt face warning
a forever prophesy of black eyes;
the reflection of a glassy blank stare,
yet, not empty enough to tell these lies.
full of a heavy guilt they do tell, bare
soul to me, like blind son without lust; love
for the liquid murder of the chaste dove.
olivia | 9/30/2003 04:56:00 PM
sonnet 3.
i know you wish you knew more empathy.
you willn't. you can't. you don't. just stop lying:
all you give me is impure apathy.
i am fed up with this. my slow dying,
a rising star in a city without
a dark: to shield, to protect me and my
curious eyes-- he knows-- take away doubt;
i think with his power truth is now lie,
a blur on a journey to censorship:
where what is real, could be fake too, and now,
the white curtain has come, so bite your lip
long and hard, as long as blood will allow.
take a deep breath and dive into the pool
filled with a black. light! you are but a tool.
olivia | 9/30/2003 12:08:00 AM