the broken window

Tin faeries fly
in 's eye,
black as a pool
of ink.
Rodents screech
as s and s preach
making virgin mothers
cry.
cut me from the
ties that bind
my sanity to
my ever d mind.
Make me fly
above the sky
ever so high
looking down on
clouds tinged pink
with muse's
and fairy wings
Touch me now, o
angel of my demise
that i may have
dreams of insanity
and peaches and pills
and flies. Maggots
who eat at my mind
and my heart. That I will
see my love depart, to
death with a vial in his hand
my gave up from
pale wrists and fingertips
which used to clutch
at sharpened quill- writing with
the shiny of the
dead white rose. Words
given to imagination and prose.
That all is lost in angel's sight.
Blind to the madness
and deaf to the fight, of
demon's children and
Hera's sword til all is lost
and insanity found. ing
after tender minds which
they rip and shred and bend
with clawed finger tips and
curled lips are smiling forming
demented laughs. To sound
and echo in tandem with
doom's serenade and 's
dance; the ballroom filled.
Dancing the tormented
steps with feet long tired
of running to the crimson
sunset, worn soles hitting
the pavement again and again
never ceasing, never stumbling,
never stopping, never failing
to follow the road
for angel's wings never cease to beat
and the one time
i thought i saw heaven
my lifeless heart
ceased to bleed...

©Julie Pyle, 2005