Raw. Senseless. Prose Poesy

Prose Poesy

A flame, passion awakening. Kindled fire, seething brain. Churning emotions, like seething water, churning inside my brain. Angry thoughts, ideas, gestures.

A sea of hopelessness, churning seething. Waves, crashing over me. Fire everywhere still fire over churning waves. Be still, my heart.

No relief. Eyes closed, typng furiously. Spur of the moment, drunken sympathies. Emotions pouring out. Shot after shot seething hot. Liquid courage, alcohol. Resilience. Strength.

Burning. Pain burning, tortured souls. Cauldron of heat, misery, of torture. Couldron of dreams, cushed dreams. Churning.

Passions of the night, a pounding headache. Words pounding. Against my head, words pounding like little bullets needing to get out from the churning sea of my brain.

So much rebellious anger, fueled by night. The light of this screenwashing away the pain. Pain is dear, craving th dark once more.

The heart is in anguish. The mind is broken, in pieces. Searching for a spark, a spirit, a soul. Something to latch on to, pull it out of the churning.

Reaching, leaping. Kindred spirits. Wanting, not getting. Cupcakes and fairies, short skirts, leggings. Acceptance. Dresses and dances, boyfriends and kisses. Romances and tingles. Sex. Love. Desire.

All tempting, but the spirit encapsulated, caged away.

Come away with me, spirit. Fly out of this cage. Drink, my heart, escape the churning froth of the sea. Escape the crashing waves, escape the world of broken promises, of flaky suitors. Of fiances and broken engagements. Of love lost. Labor lost. Everything lost. Escape, fly. Win, dream, prosper.

Escape the torture. Not death, but life. Living potential, living out of the sea into the heavens. Mounting, aspiration. Marlovian ideals at their finest, aspiring and mounting and triumph, when Icarus failed. And fell.

Raw emotion, senseless passion. Laying awake but asleep. Eyes closed, mind open.


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