Monstrous Dreams.

 

Broken dreams litter my lonely nights.

Monstrous shadows haunt me

Breaking me, softly but surely as I try to sleep

A ghostly happiness wanders, remembered from a recent past, forever lost.

And as wakefulness invades the small hours … I weep.

– ————

My head warned my heart of certain pain

My heart ignored it, as always … my heart is my bane

It causes such sweet pain as I wander alone

Feelings lost… or stripped to bare white bone.

My tears are as nothing in this solitary world.

————

Dark tracks ahead, shrouded by tendrils of ghostly mist

No clues are given, no words of encouragement uttered

I wander aimlessly … I face this alone. Unknowing.

… and my head drops. I care for little right now

I return to my nightmares.

———

© Stan M Rogers 2018

 

ANGER?

This is actually a bit of a mish-mash of stuff. Something I wrote a while ago and updated last night.
Just random thoughts including some on the crap I get on MySpace from some people…..
Because I happen to like someone and hopefully they like me it inspires negativity in someone who doesn’t even know me….
————

If I were to feel anger. Tears of rage
Loss of innocence even at my age
Would it be at losing you…before I knew you?
Feel your soul dissipating through my outstretched fingers
Like mist on a summer morning. Dew dissolving under hot morning sun
And a breaking heart in my chest. Feeling your sighs
Touching your face across a void, and mutual highs
But I am me. The guru of love lost.
I find it so hard to be…happy?
So hard…just so hard. Life gives me that as interest.
And I am never ready. Always behind
And where’s the sense in that?
Can I help this feeling of self imposed loss?
Going down with all hands baling
Angry with failing, and fighting my own devils
Punishing myself for imagined future crimes
And past indulgences….back to haunt me
And people feeling anger at me
And I wonder why. Because I dare to be happy?
Because I stepped into their lives?
I hate these feelings of trying to balance
Not to hurt and think of others feelings.
Guilty I suppose… I always am. Perhaps trying
Isn’t really enough.

Should I just lie down? Fulfil my own collapse.
Give up at all that lies before
Renounce myself.
And any anger I feel is at myself
Audacity at my own hope of being
Temerity at daring to think I could ever possibly be happy.
At daring to think that love isn’t possession
Not control…I want to give. But that isn’t right
Is it?
Anger at inner turmoil. At trying so hard
At being the person I aspire to be
Anger at the insults I receive?
No not really…just sadness at negativity and spite
And jealousy, the worst of the deadly sins.

© Stan Rogers 2009