valkyriekat_47: (Book Alive)
Like A Walk That Breaks Water

A veil of sorrow floats on a sea of salty fears.
A land of regrets is overshadowed by more of the same.
Every sip and wince is torture, a deadening, a vice grip.
Why? Where is the why? It is a solid future, a dead weight.

A cat curls at my feet, Loki be his name.
A rattling of bars and I should let go, to sleep.
The pit of diseased organs I call a body
Lean against my thin frame, a mockery.

The cat purring is also mockery and sing song
To the ears of those who have that same delight as me,
That blessing of schizo-affective disorder. But wait!
All my craft turns against me, spells dark, without healing.

Do I care what the reader thinks? I snort.
Do I care what I think? Too much, I swear.
And those that care for me, I betray with a hiss.
Unless I care, which I do, breaking water with my feet.

-Kat J
valkyriekat_47: (Book Alive)
The Next Day

A lot of harm is done the next day,
And a lot of wonder.

A lot is wished for the next day
And a lot to blunder.

The next day holds promise
To those in pain.

The next day tells lies,
To the very same.

It is never accomplished,
The next day.

And dwells with ifs, buts and whys,
The next day.

The next day never comes, so...
Action is a verb.

The next day pins hope
Nothing but words.

-SiannĂ³del Freyr (Kat's muse for poetry)


valkyriekat_47: (Default)

March 2014

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