Gossamer Hearts & Primitive Promises

A gossamer gown ruffled with tule,

encapsulating the autumn light and violently

spewing it out into the winter darkness

for lazy eyes

to gaze upon in foolish glory.

Too much beauty to take in.

Too many cowards to bring

back down

and realize a false idol

stands before them.

Believing she is a pagan symbol
to put faith in,

to trust again,

to be that lover
who makes to the end;

however, she is a god
who regresses deeply

into primitive promises,

dwindling into solitude,
paying homage

to her former flame.

Love for a needle that pierces

virgin flesh,

draining the fruit of innocence

from that single incident

when he walked straight into

her gossamer heart
and molded that fervor
that would rip her apart.

She dies of delirium
and uncontrollable greed

for her top priority need.

Her lover succeeds

in stealing that iridescent seed,

wrapping the delicate trophy

like a prize.

Spewing the last ounce

of her memory into the rivets

of a new era.
Together...everlasting,
the stars are alive.

"Gossamer Heart"
Photo taken by Skye Lyon. 2012.

 

The New Native

I learn to run

and eat away at my

inhibitions of yesterday,

as cannibalistic

as some may say.

The natives said it was ok

to forgive those who

have disowned me...

oh, but how they

overtake me.

I learn to keep

all of my foes at bay

as I eat away at my

anxiety...that is what all

the shamans say.

They confirmed there is no way

to seek sanity

as renegade soldiers
continue to

butcher away

at my idleness.

I run from the east end

to the southern bay,

screaming a victors cry

that must be heard somewhere,

heard in the cross hairs

of belligerent play.

I sit in disappointment of

another day

as you rest in complacence

scavenging the bloody bits

of feeble prey...

I say ok...ok...ok, ok, ok

I am done,

so done.

I can't run.

The village does not
believe me?

I am done,

so done.

I can't run.

You cannot hurt me...

anymore.

Found Under Crooked Keys

A note from you was found under crooked keys,
folded in fourths. It was all I had to get me by.
Strange to say, but you’re the only one who opened
my locked door,
swept into my life on a virgin floor.
You were all I had.
An unfamiliar home burrowed deep in my chest
seemed so much warmer than all the rest.
Now I freeze to death under an open sky
knowing with full certainty I could never tell you goodbye.
It seems so easy how you change your mind...
as if you lost track of all this time.
The door slams shut...
the fighting within myself has strained what we once had,
has clouded our minds to what is sane.
You hurt me bad,
yet, I still pray like a pagan hoping you take me back.
My letter to you was found under crooked keys,
folded in thirds. I was all you had,
when you craved your needs.
Do not speak, darling,
I have seen this many times before.
Do not come near me, babe,
you will only leave me sore.
It is hard to see you in the threshold,
dancing alone,
isolating your body from your thoughts that roam.
You saw my kindness as a chore,
bruised my elusive ego
so long ago
but somehow, I do not think
I care anymore.

"The Night Owl"
Picture of Skye Lyon (2012)



1,001 Reasons Why

"Virgo"
Nude drawn in charcoal by Skye Lyon. 2012.

Living along the brink of losing it all

abiding by nature's laws against a wall.

Feeling my body shed warmth with the arrival of fall.

Teasing my senses with every lost brawl -

pathetically escaping your hold with a baby's crawl.

Continuing on through a rigorous haul

by following your every cue...

with the ruin of my safety, even if it is the last thing I do.

You are the only man who ever came by
and gave me your heart with the death of your pride.

Running circles in my mind, it is hard to comply -

with all your demands that have now gone awry.

Griping tight to a 1,001 "goodbye's", sighs, and wondering "whys".

Yelling out a steamed battle cry

from no other place than my own mind's eye.

Following your every cue...

with the ruin of my safety, even if it is the last thing I do.

Reflecting your face along the bank of snow

as my heart collapses with you in your frosted burrow.

Babe, don't you see our future inscribed in the stars of Virgo?

There are a 1,001 reasons why I want you to know...

I love you.

Southern Drawl

A land of frozen hope is my only view from your house, babe.

The mood looks blue through your broken room.

I give away myself today with a rusted jaw

trying to mutter words with a southern drawl

just like you use to do

when you would touch my face softly and say

"I love you".

Yet, somehow I never knew...

somehow just never knew

how much the word "love" meant to you.

The moon has you in its jaded grip,

clenching on to every fear ever feared by you.

Have faith in the words I sip through the straw

because darling matchmaker,

you will not get that far.

Destiny only has one man in mind,

so learn to ease up on your decision.

The choice is mine.

I long to taste the lonely skin I once saw as "new".

Lay here with me tonight,

and please do not disappear with the morning light.

Stroke my hair until I cry

with relief knowing everything will be all right.

"Southern Drawl"
Portrait of a reclining nude in charcoal by Skye Lyon. 2012.

Drowning In A Pool Of Tears

Do not mind me,

just merely drowning in the shallow end.

Scarfing down the water that now encapsulates my lungs,

synthesizing itself with a heavy regret and a lost cause.

The enemy wrapping its cold, damp fingers

tightly around my bruised neck as it transports my

feeble body just above the deep end,

faced up, eyes soaking in the grime of the vanilla sky

that hovers just in range.

I grudgingly breathe in

the last ounce of sanity I can possibly muster

before I surrender myself wholly

to the static glow I see

reverberating off the soiled clouds and browning leaves.

No matter what final efforts...I know I am gone.

Waving goodbye to my routine, star-crossed security,

cinematically fading into the ominous haze that brews

behind me, beneath the water, on tiled floor.

Held captive by a lost love's form of voodoo -

a cursed fate to aqua marine blue -

in a quasi permanent fashion, nevermore.

"Pool of Tears"
Reclining nude drawn in charcoal by Skye Lyon. 2012.

Creating A Shadow

As a kid, and I am sure almost everyone has experienced this,
you are happy all the time for the most part. When I was younger, I was happy.
I laughed at the fancy free butterflies dancing carelessly in the wind outside on the patio,
I smiled at the ocean's roaring majesty at the local beach,
I happily sighed at every person that passed in my opposing direction
with love emanating through their stare.
Now, it seems that I can only reach that childlike euphoria when I sleep at night.
Away from the outside world, looming in my own dreams.
Comforted by the last sight of the moon's alluring beacon of light
that rests smoothly on my bedroom window sill.
Away from the push and pull effect that my unpredicted future creates in my present.
Away from my unforgiving past.
Just me.
Alone in a content state, wrapped like an embryo in my blanket.
Traveling across contrived lands only fathomed by me.
When my eyelids lock hold of the darkness, no one can judge me
and my suppressed primal emotion.
No phantom capable of haunting me.
Even in the regions of my most revolting nightmares, I am untouchable.
Happiness courts with safety when the night takes hold of me.
Unfortunately, as soon as the sun pries my eyes open and I plant my groggy self
firmly on the floor, standing away from my bed post,
a silent pain surges through my heart.

I face the fears, feared by many with the clock's good morning...