Blazing red in my head and in my heart,
A banderole stark and bright,
Grabbing my attentions but laid to rest,
A mess I'd just as soon not include.
Buried alive in the deepest tomb.
Does it matter? Do you care?
With no breath in my lungs,
I cannot scream you away.
Instead I let it sleep in the back of my mind,
Waiting for a day of rage,
To claw at the coffin and,
Fight the confinement and,
Exhume my corpse from its fate.
Stretch and limber my frozen bones,
Hands out-branched,
Like the tree of life,
Desperate for sun and rain and
Spreading seeds negating alone.
Like a tripped up phantom,
Stumbling across the lifeless,
Determined to find the flaming florid,
That time and time again,
Murders my dreams.
There is no time to wait!
The grains of sand tumble
At an exuberant rate.
That crimson mast states,
My spectre spook speeds,
To tear it from it's grace.
~Mme. Pamela McCreight~
1 March 2011
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