Nowhere seems particularly appropriate for this, so I guess you all are falling victim to my whims and moods. It's been a rough couple of weeks, and I suppose that writing is a better way of letting in out than actually contemplating doing this. Healthier anyway.
No, this isn't particularly like my normal moonlight self, but even moonlights have bad spells. I promise to return to my normal silly, flakey, cheerful self eventually. Thanks for bearing with me. See you on the other side.
Standard disclaimer
If you print this or repost this, please leave it whole, and give credit where credit is due. The following talks about pain and death, and prolly will give some people the willies. If that sort of thing squicks you, hit n now. I'm not responsible if for any emotional trauma if you read it, 'cause I warned you fair and square.
The Final Act
Watching you walk away, black collar in hand,
My breaking heart searches for the reason.
Inside the voices clammer and scream in denial,
Thundering unmercifully for an end to the pain.
Watching you walk out the door, black collar in hand,
My numbed thoughts cry for a solution.
And as I fall into out bed, the loneliness closes around me,
Thoughts drifting off as I search for a reason to go on.
The morning sun streams across my face,
Jeering at the desperation in my heart on a fine spring day.
Everywhere I turn there are reminders of you,
Laughing and taunting with things that will never be.
Night falls again, bringing a blessed oblivion,
As I stumble through the wreck that I've made.
Torn pictures and broken glass litter the floor,
Clinging to the bare, bloody feet that walk heedlessly over them.
Picking up a ragged-edged piece of glass,
My eyes stare at it, not comprehending its sweet promise.
Looking out the window, I see you walk by with her,
and the glass bites deeply into my palm before I scream and hurl it away.
The wounds bleed still, both in my mind and on my body,
As I seek an end to it before it destroys me.
The glass bites again, cheek and neck and thigh.
Blood runs read in the deepening twilight of the mind.
As I sit in your chair, my head slowly sinks to rest against it.
The silence of the womb beckons with a siren's call that I can't avoid.
As my eyes slide closed, I see you walk through the door,
Just a moment to late as all eternity calls.
moonlight - who is no Minstrel Bi.
(c) moonlight productions.
