Tuesday, December 7, 2010

Misfits

I dream ,
dark, venomous dreams.
I wake screaming,
most nights.
Every night.
Blood, wounds,
Jin and angels.

Bad luck versus that presumed to be good.

The air tastes different now,
I blame the fear, buzzing underneath my skin.

A part of me wants to be eaten whole.
Disappear,
never to be seen nor heard from again.

The secondary, God fearing part of me,
counts the stars,
the blessings,
my loves,
and cherished moments.
It is then that I am forced to realize,
that my very existence,
is bigger than me.
And if I am still desperate to seek
my own personal freedom,
it will have to be by my own hand.