By Manet>goddess77@mail.utexas.edu
Date: 8 January 1999

Brocade

Mid-morning witches
knock at my windows
control my illusions
haunt my delusions.
I fall through your sunrise
and onto my knees
naked before you
and finally at ease.
21 seconds
and you look away.
Shameful self scrutiny
leads me away 
from your silver lining
golden strands of springtime
in a barren land.
Your eyes on my forehead
the thick skin is burning.
I wiped off my ugly
and washed it away.
Thought then you'd hear
all that I had to say.
But the beauty I've painted
has poisoned my skin
distilling the oceans
that once ran within.
Now my scab is thick 
and my dress is torn.
Out of the wreckage
new vengeance is born.
Your silence builds
a wall of stone.
I face this boudary alone.
Your judgment is jaded.
My colors have faded.
Thorns of resistance 
destroy all intention.
Restrained we are wrapped
in robes of pretension.
A slice of submission
would placate my greed.
Apathy plunders my savior
my need.
The winter's falling all around
my castle as I tear it down.
Your eyes rest on my fate
I stop but its too late.