2001-09-11

Devistation
In the early mourning hours
Revelation
In the moments between dreams
I dance
On the edge of consciousness
Where my words can run wild
Through the night air
As I breathe poetry
And too many alchohol fumes
Escher once said that while
His work was ok
The things he could see in his mind
But he couldn't draw or paint
Were infinitely more beautiful
And amazing
I've felt that frustration
On many nights now
Like sexual dreams
That could have been lived
If not for stupid coincidence
Walking to the keyboard
Can sometimes make me choke
On this phantom poetry
As the knife I use to
Make myself bleed words
Can become dull in an instant
----------------------------------
This is called "Confirmation of Blindness"...and the last poem I posted is now titled "Enthusiastic Silence", due to underwhelming response. Blah, I should have known better...

~Matt Magus

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