"Innocence" from The Corruption of Innocence
O, tender child of wide-eyed wonder,
With untouched rose not yet torn asunder.
You're born flat-chested, small, and hairless,
You're innocent, naive, meek, and careless.
And the adult's knowledge for which you yearn,
Is something that they forbid you to learn,
Allowing you only the childhood cares
Of innocent games and teddy bears.
But still the secret garden grows,
The lotus, the violet, and the rose,
With tender buds hidden from sight,
Lest they be crushed by adults' might.
And at night upon your virgin bed,
The lotus dreams run through your head,
And beckon you with gentle eyes,
To a world of tenderness and sighs.
You grab the teddy, you hold it tight,
Your innocent body trembles in fright,
And you promise that you will never give in
To the adult's world of corruption and sin.
But nestling there in the back of your mind,
Is a curiosity, and a pleasure of a kind
Like the lotus's all-engulfing rush,
As you feel yourself shudder at the rose's first blush.
love and chains are both the same
a binding hold entwined with pain
burning like a flame
seed of lust and shame
writhing in your name
love and chains, the same.
i don't understand.
to you, girl
who i never saw smile
whose voice i never heard
who walked with head held so high
i bid you farewell.
like so many i've never met,
like those i've talked to, but never seen inside,
like those i've loved, but never truly known. . . .
maybe it all ends up the same,
never knowing
anyone.
for a moment, we held each other's eyes,
and it meant so much to me.
a memory forever.
a true forever.
not like
promises
empty promises
of false forevers.
so maybe it's better we never met.
because it all ends up the same.
and i wonder if i could have held you.
and i wonder if i could have loved you.
but it all ends up the same
and we have to say our goodbyes.
my sweet nameless girl who walked with head held high.
i can see your eyes.
goodbye, dear.
i miss you.
always, things unsaid.
aching.
searching.
fingers reaching, reaching.
fingertips sliding, touch on touch, mingling, but never holding.
painful caresses.
you destroy what you seek.
the fingers slip away,
fingertips slit and torn.
what i am is a jarred butterfly.
with new-grown wings.
because of you.
if you would just set me free.
if you could just let me out,
i would dance on the air for you.
and come to rest on your hand.
and linger.
i would walk up and down your long-limbed fingertips,
your hand would be my home.
and i would flutter to your lips,
dancing on your breath,
and kiss you the best i can.
but for now i look out through my cage of glass.
with new-grown wings.
and i cannot dance.
i splattered myself
opened myself up and spilled myself
but the insides are ugly
and
they tiptoed over them
i want to dissolve into you.
i want to think as you think.
i want to feel as you feel.
i want to destroy myself in you.
i want you to destroy me.
but i am disturbingly intact.
tick tick tick tick tick
there is only a set amount of emotion. a set amount for each soul created. there are the many, and then there are the few.
these are the emotion hoarders.
they capture more than their share, suck from the wiggling infant forms of the newborn.
these are the enemy. the emotion must be relinquished.
kill these people if you can.
the end, before the beginning.
