Visualization

February 21, 2004

In all my darkest dreams
with the ice over my heart,
and winter-corrupted sleep
I've been watching over you.

Your heart is a pale thing
scarred, pocked, dented,
where pigment is missing
and blood strains through.

Your golden locks fall sweet,
your hazel eyes still shine
through a haze of rotting meat
of things you shouldn't have seen.

Wind of thirty winters blows
startling, shocking, ripping
at skin raw and overexposed
by too many wicked thoughts.

I brace against the wind,
it will not keep me from
getting to your young skin
and wrapping up the wounds.

Razor cuts of names deep
who took away a life and left
a ghost with tears to weep
into dust and silence, alone.

We'll break down this illusion
of ugly images that haunt
a mirror, and force into seclusion -
I will undo every vile mirage.

Integration,
unsegregated
association,
of me with me,
I will once again
become complete.
You will know
that I am safe
as I hold
and soothe
and fold
you tight,
like no one
else has ever
tried or done.