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You
Folder:
hidden feelings You are the darkest roots of my mind
Your eyes light the way,
The yellow illumination
Spilling on the walls like
Splattered paint
Or a bad
Makeup job
On the face of an old woman,
Screaming.
Your voice cuts into my eyes
Like razor blades
Still sharp from their last kill,
Waiting
Wanting another ribbon of flesh
Filled with dark blood
That absorbs
Into their cold
Metal skins.
You keep my soul close to you
Handcuffed
To your mind
Like a prisoner
Gray with sadness
Awaiting the electric chair
At the end of the hall
With a smile.
Justine Marie Zingg
9/10/03
