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Wes Adkison (Me)

Poetry
My dreams
Mindscapes

Severance
Maelstrom
Why
Untitled 1
Death
Pain
Outside Looking In

Severance

Severance. . .
An end to all ties. . .
Binding, twisting, constricting ties
Hands, bound; Ankles, shackled; Heart locked.
I ask for freedom and am answered:

"Freedom can be yours but at a price.

The ties that bind your hands shall be loosened,
But your fingers scarred with calloused hardness
That you never touch gently again.

The manacles that arrest your feet shall be unlocked,
But your ankles broken
That you never run to another again.

The chains that hold your heart shall be removed,
But your soul cleft
That only emptiness remains."

Severance. . .
An end to all ties. . .
Binding, twisting, constricting ties.
Hands, bound; ankles, shackled; heart locked.
I ask for freedom and am answered.
And I reply.
"Yes."

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Maelstrom

Dawn breaks and he opens his eyes
Roars his challenge to the sun-lit skies
Against all odds he has survived
Growing. In age he has become wise
Over the mountains and rivers he flies
Never touching the ground, yet not reaching the sky

Sorrow fills the ancient eyes
Evil men he does despise
Every man woman and child
Killed his kin, took their lives
Even though I knew it may end my years
Reached out my hand and brushed away his tears

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Why

There is a force
Which calls me by name
It fills me with joy
It causes me pain

I know it is hard
But try to understand
You hold me
In the palm of your hand

Will you not look
Through different eyes
My heart is true
Not covered in lies

You instill within me
So many fears
Deep in my heart
And strong in my tears

So alone I go
With the confusion I have found
As I march to the beat
Of the drum with no sound

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Untitled 1

The apparitions of my soul
Are tearing at my heart
My goal is locked
Unable to part

Time is lost now
As is hope
There was just too much
I could not cope

I sit here now
Pondering my plan
Staring down at
The cold steel in my hand

The razors edge
Is sharpened steel
But the edges of my broken heart
Are sharper still

Things could have been different
This didn't have to be
Oh God! What cruelty
Took her from me

Darkness descends
On this stage in time
The curtain of crimson
Falls one last time

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Death

I know my eyes are open, but I can see nothing
When I stretch out my arms my hands encounter only air
I open my mouth to scream, but I can say nothing, my throat will not work
Voices come and go
I hear whispers
Dark things lunge out at me, and then disappear
I feel unreal, like sleeping while awake
I am floating in a void, a dark universe
I remember every bad memory with terrifying clarity
I prick myself but do not bleed, my blood has been drained
The dark things have returned
They call to me with harsh voices
Then the voices change, so soft, so soothing
I want to follow them, but I cannot move
The dark things taunt me
Is that laughter I hear
Yes, it is the laughter of young children, but wait!
They should not come here; the dark things will get them
I try to scream out to them, but I can utter no sound
I hear them scream
The next sound I hear is laughter, the laughter of daemons
A single whispered word catches my ear . . . "Hell"
A chill embraces me
I am nothing
I am dead

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Pain

My Soul
     Tagged…
           Cataloged…
                  Merchandised…
In a simple cardboard box
   Marked “Pain”
       Addressed to you

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Outside Looking In

It's cold out here
outside the world that should have been ours
I stare within
Through the windows on this house of yours

frost rims the panes
on the windows that shield you from the cold
the warmth from within
draws me nearer to the pain I should run from

I watch your children
oblivious to the world that you left behind
Those within believe you happy
Yet occasionally I catch you looking outside.

I ponder the reason
Is it perhaps you pity the creature you created
or maybe still
part of you longs to be here . . . outside.

though warm and comfortable
your world is filled with lies and deciet
and through this window
I can see through the warmth again to the cold

As it has always been
Image means more to you than your own happiness
others are blind
but that is how you wish it to be.

Only Time will tell
how long you can continue this charade
Will it destroy you
Or will you emerge victorious,      
          having lied to everyone you've held dear

through this window
across the room to your face shrouded in frost
a frost few can see
for there is another window there, hidden, forgotten

you have your own window
outside . . .
looking in . . .
and wishing you could live the life you appear to lead.

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