Timothy

Jack's Twisted Kingdom
2003-03-28 08:50:13 (UTC)

tales from neverland

seems i sit here, waiting to be awoken
from some far away dream

i know not where i am, but i see the rain
as it pours out from the slits in the windows

watching the beads flow down in the swirl
and arc away from the glass

i wonder then when i am to go aloft and
find what and where it is that i am going

i think perhaps i sit here and wait, perhaps
if nothing else, i seek out something

perhaps an empifany awaits this long
tortured catatonic state i seem to live

it is possible i am wallowing in the self
deprecating slumber of ages

never really knowing why things are or
are not the way i imagine them

i suppose in my own little way i am
waiting for the liquid lightning strike

the pulse of my own arm is not but
a slight rush of elation i know is waiting

the thunder hails the reckoning i feel
within and still i sit, bearing the tides

the snow drifts on the ground lay around
and wait for the sun's heat

a more poinant re-union i am sure awaits
the water as it returns to the sky

the slender reach of a branch try's to touch
the wet slicked overhang of the roof

it too is bound by the nature of the rain
stunted and yet free

could it be i too am free, but i wallow
here in a bizare cage of my design

i think too much said a few of those who
i call friends, and allies

the food is cold, left sitting out as i pick
at it, nudging it, with a fork

the drink i desire, sit's stale and tepid
the glass, cloudy and murk filled

the jewel in my ear, lustre lost, feels
colder than the wicked frost

my tongue, pierced, lolls about
scraping the enamal of my teeth

i sat and watched the world go by from
this, my window, and night fell

and still i sit here hoping to fly off
into the night with nary a care

it would be nice, the seriptitous and
absolute abondonment of self

to simply pack up my things, leave
as though nothing were static

who knows, perhaps soon the moment
will come, i know it is near

all i can do, it wait, my desires for she
who is not known to my flesh, abated

the raving lunacy the moon has envoked
encompases the random passions

but i await for it, please forgive the distance
i am coming, soon, soon enough

my tale is not yet over, the telling of it
mearly begun, and yet not started

could be soon, one could hope, i feel it
it warms me to the touch

this cold heart, the fluttering embers burn
smolderingly beneath my breast

the flare, soon to come, will light my way
to the light, to the touch of her fingers

and perhaps in the end, i will know all that
i need in order to complete the journey

the one i have taken, always by paths less
travelled and dangerous, fleeting and mired

wait for me, no, wait for the time, no, don't wait
time will tell all, the answer within

we shall see, methinks the world shall in the
end, reveal all to you and i

blind passions laureled wreath upon my head
and stabbing at thy heartfelt lust

soon,

soon enough for me

soon