I want to reach out
Touch with hand trembling
With yearning hungry passion
I want to look out
See with infinite black eyes
To want and be unafraid
To bear a raw heart
I want to be filled
With need
Not emptied by fear
Full of hunger
That is not incomplete Self
Innocent of shame
Free of fear of falling
Wide open black fire
Burning dark in day
Swallowing all the world
Finding it pure
Silver and crystal and sweet water
Lascivious desire
Wide-eyed madness
Demanding nothing of her
But that she be fully
What she is
Asking only of myself
That I be fully
What I am
To take without hoarding
To possess without enslaving
I want to be seen
In my passion
And need
And hunger
And be seen to be whole
O Raving One
O Roaring One
Be You my mirror
In whom I see
My Deepest Self
Without the terror
I will see nothing at all
November 4th, 2014 at 5:38 pm
That’s…. I…. You… Um… *flails*
*Deep breath*
I’d say you should write poetry more often, but I recognize that inspiration doesn’t work on a schedule…
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November 4th, 2014 at 7:38 pm
I would like to write more poetry. The problem is less inspiration and more being afraid of writing awful poetry.
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November 6th, 2014 at 12:53 pm
[…] First thing I did upon getting out of bed was to write The Black Heart. […]
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