Friday, June 3, 2011


Chaotic thoughts
Riding the wave of the high
Random actions
Of utter and complete desperation.
The world around us
Crumbles as we speak
Each line revealing something else
More perverted
About the character

Layers and layers
Of dirt and grime
Years of neglect
And chipping paint
Peeling away
All the broken layers
Of a life,
Slowing peeling each one
Like a summer sunburn
Basking in the bright colors
All the stories beneath.
The stories,
Still killing me slowly.
Sometimes I fear
I will never find
The raw wood that lies...
Somewhere deep below
The painted years of neglect.

The restoration is painful
And the layers of story
Are tinged with guilt
And indignity
Of complete and utter
The wood beneath,
Damaged from the days of the storm
May still be salvageable
Sanded down with patience
And persistence
Revealing the natural vein of the wood.

And I am left with raw wood,
A thing unfinished.
Sanded smooth
And well cared for
Surrounded by the paint,
Chipped away stories
Lying in ruin
Discarded pieces
All around this piece of work.

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