Graduation!

Graduation was on the seventh, no more school for me! Well, at least until college. ;)

I hear them when I hide in the bathroom.
They come in between classes,
loose sneakers thumping,
flip-flops shuffling,
high-heels clicking.
They chatter about senseless things,
gossiping in staged whispers,
squealing like pigs,
giggling - "Huh-huh huh-huh huh-huh"
Beasts of conformity, slaves of fashion,
the "It" girls, golden skeletons
in skin-tight jeans, micro-minis,
teensy t-shirts cut to show
their premature breasts.
They don't see me there, or if they do,
they certainly don't acknowledge my presence;
for I am the lowest of the low:
a bathroom-hider.

Lament of Innocence: A Nursery Rhyme

Run for thy life, little one, I say
The Reaper cometh for thee this day
Thy existence, a journey, now cut short
Thy ship never to make it to port

Innocence lamented, th' angels cry,
Their tears falling from th' sky

But hide thyself, cover thy head
Through the night, keep thee to thy bed
An' mayhap Death will just pass by
A whisper in the night, a baby's sigh

Innocence lamented, th' angels cry,
Their tears falling from th' sky

Starless Night

Lips pressed to the inside of your thigh,
chilled alabaster skin like silk against my own,
limbs sprawled carelessly across the blanket.

Threads of moonlight bathe the room in silver,
highlighting your ebony hair, spread upon the pillows,
reflecting in your emerald eyes, illuminating the
bruise-like shadows resting beneath them.

There are no stars to shine here, in the heart
of this corrupted, decaying city of lost souls;
glancing up, seeing our image in the window-glass,
my fair skin still somehow dark against yours,
a keening sound escapes my throat.

Laying a scarred hand against your cheek,
surprised to feel the tears on my own;
your rose-petal mouth is open slightly,
but there is no air in your lungs to breathe.

Stand up and look down at you with a sigh,
lay the pillow on your face once more,
even though you're far beyond the point of struggling.

Adrenaline filling my system, heart pounding,
blood pulsing in my veins as those moments
replay vividly in my memory, flashing before my sight.

Outside, the blackened sky gives way to morning,
the silver moon retreating to invisibility as the
jealous sun takes its place in the morning sky.

Sarah.

She writes poetry in the sand,
delicate fingers tracing curving letters,
white-blonde hair spilling over the
porcelain skin of her bare shoulders,
blue eyes sparkling as she
smiles shyly up at me from under thick lashes,
her heart-shaped face tilted slightly,
illuminated in the pale moonlight.
She would hate me if she knew.

A Moment in the City.

The city is restless, cars swarming like ants in upheaval,
streetlights, stoplights, and neon signs burning the midnight hour,
pedestrians scurrying to and fro in various states of disarray.
Bass beats pump out of empty doorways and broken windows,
pulsating like a living creature, absorbing the surrounding cacophony.
A beast shoves forward, hawking wares with undulating limbs,
lifting away raiment and gesturing lewdly before fading again.
The tolling of the city clock resounds in momentary harmony,
and all are still for a brief moment, listening with rapt attention,
the timekeeper's song holding the ears and hearts of the masses captive.
Then the song ends and life resumes, lost within the eternal race once more.