Old Poetry

Twenty or so years ago I used to scribble a great deal of poetry, much of it abysmal. This one, however, always stuck with me. And given I’m wasting time this afternoon instead of working, thought maybe I’d put it out here for perusal.

Kamikaze Girl
Kamikaze girl
looking in a haunted mirror
will you cry
is there a fear you’re
fading fast?
Shades of night
subdue the lamplight,
in the glass
there is the dull light
of a tear…
but then it’s glass
which holds sweet madness
not the girl
who stands there unclad…yet
where is she?
Where will she be?
Kamikaze girl
with the sun upon your forehead
fly before you dreams are long dead
in the past.
Crawl into the darkness,
bed the shroud–
the living coffin
of your dreams…
but then your dreams
are just reflections
of a sun
in broken mirrors–
there’s no now
it’s all shining in the night…
ghost and flight within a long night
in the glass.
Kamikaze girl
flying on a broken night dream,
wedged forever in the cool seam
of glass and ghosts.
Reflections are not real,
it’s what you are
and what you feel–
the path of razor steel–
that buries you.
Cool down the sunlight
lie beside the glass, the ghosts
shattered in you.
Lull your madness into harness
spread your flesh onto the cold glass…
Where are you?
What will you do?

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