Rosedreams.net

.::ghost dreams::.

Eirene — Tue, 01 Jun 2010 08:55:16 +0000

Set fire to disillusionment. Walk away from the cascade of empty promises and autumn leaves. Cut out the silence that hangs above us.

Butterfly patterns stain our fragmented souls. And silken tears drop one by one; they pierce the skin like rose-thorns, like ghost dreams. Your touch burns me and leaves behind velvet ashes. And we float away like a waxing moon ready to swallow the night. Ready to strain the sky of all of it stars. We are fire and summer rain. We spring like blossoms and dance like tornadoes.

I believe they call it love.

Empty

Eirene — Sat, 15 May 2010 13:41:05 +0000

There are no stars and no water.
The sky is melting and I become an ashtray.
A broken mirror.
A broken story.
White- like dirty snow
and silent – like rain falling on roses,
like secret pain.

Purple Waterdrops

Eirene — Fri, 02 Apr 2010 15:04:00 +0000

Spring

Eirene — Wed, 31 Mar 2010 03:14:05 +0000

Silence after the rain

Eirene — Sun, 21 Mar 2010 23:51:20 +0000

Do you know that I still remember,
                       how you used to tear the moon down every night and wound the sky so that the dawn would match your bloodshot eyes?
                    Or how you caged me and begged me to sing the most beautiful song?
          {But I couldn’t.}

Did it even matter to you that I was not a fairy tale?
That days were thieves and tornadoes kings?

And though you dismiss the past and bury the memories under withered plants in our garden, though you purchase new truths and new faces, I can still see the washed bloodstains and the cracks on the walls.
…

& the days go by. & people walk on the streets; they pass right next to us, but never see us. They talk to us, but never really listen. Sometimes they say things like “get over it” and “look ahead”. & I ask: “Get over what?” and “look ahead for what?” You haven’t heard a word I said, have you? No.

& there is silence again.

Lies we tell ourselves

Eirene — Sat, 20 Mar 2010 15:46:18 +0000

I’m on medication to keep me sane
I’m taking my colourful pills each day
And cover each scar with a smile
And each night I pretend to love you
But really, I’m all burned out.

If only for a moment

Eirene — Mon, 08 Mar 2010 05:33:11 +0000

Worlds have collapsed and walls are closing in. Idealism burns silver – past the farthest shore, down the deepest cliff. Here in this darkness-heaving ocean the sonnets are hushed. The earth is pounding, the waning moon fading
&& I’m a story written in words you don’t understand – drifting into feathery slumber; encircled by a darkened solitude and an inmost desire for the sun.

I’m brittle air; a puddle not a river. With violet eyes, green, blue, grey. Dejected. Empty. But sometimes I become a burning volcano, and I bleed butterfly colours. The songs are not dumb anymore and I am immune to poison. And with my Daedalus’ wings I rise from the ashes.

truth is

Eirene — Tue, 02 Feb 2010 07:32:58 +0000

I shouldn’t be telling you this. I shouldn’t be writing these lines. They are the truth – every word of them. But the truth doesn’t set you free anymore. Nobody says it anymore. We construct our own world of only the things we can face and remove those than can hurt us – in any way. We remove words like poverty and madness and pain and ugliness and even real beauty; and keep pretending they are not there like pretending is enough. But I’ve been through so much and seen too much and maybe you can, but I cannot be silenced any longer. I can see the repulsion in your eyes as I speak loudly – for everyone to hear me. I shout that I am not ashamed of the truth, because I’ve done nothing to be ashamed of; and poverty and ugliness and pain and illness and madness and despair and struggling are nothing to be ashamed of – while hatred, and indifference and selfishness and narrow-mindedness – those are things to be ashamed of. Not getting your head up and facing the sun without any fear, being dishonest and laughing at those weaker than you, that’s what you should be ashamed of. Illness and poverty are not a shame and most did nothing to deserve them. And yet they have to lie and hide their faces. But I’m looking straight at you. And I’ll keep saying this until I can no more. They will stop me, I know. And I wonder, don’t they have anything better to do? I wonder when did everything go so wrong?

MockingBird

Eirene — Sun, 01 Nov 2009 18:12:05 +0000

Tangled in purple and turquoise threads, in truths that used to be lies and lies that used to be truths. I cannot seem to find my way through these dull stars. Through reflections and shadows, through dissolving towers, that yesterday stood among white gold moons. I have walked through worlds that shivered with grief, that rippled from torment. And worlds that dazzled like abundant dreams. Intangible worlds. Fragile. They shudder as I lift my eyelids.

& I’m lost again like rain and tears; the walls around me crack and I can’t paint it all they way they were before. I can’t play this game of deception anymore. The colourful facets and false memories. The running mascara and clown smiles. I can’t run fast enough to escape from my own thoughts. I can’t run at all. It’s all falling apart and I’m standing through the rain – a mockingbird with no face of my own and a million crying voices that I do not recognize.

Memories

Eirene — Mon, 12 Oct 2009 17:37:38 +0000

Some call it a gift, but it’s my curse – to see through the walls of all worlds, possible and impossible, past and future. I can feel the pain of every butterfly you kill, of every flower you step on. I can see what you could never dare and I remember everything. The melodies and orbits of the universe, its heart and the brightness of the sun stars and the absolute emptiness of a black hole, all contained within a dream, a dream of pain and roses.

I know you and I’ll never forget.