Thursday, December 3, 2009

POEM: the puppet's confession to the puppeteer

Think of all the things I’ve told you
by the unspoken words of mute language
Even for one smile, it is too far-reached from the nearby distance
Like the coldness of blizzard tonight, you had blown the agitation
Into my wood-made-heart, you whispered, told me about my longing
But then just like the paparazzo’s flashy lights, you were gone
Drowned deep inside my imagination
The eye catching looks that I’m hungry for
Keep hunting me under my unconsciousness
But your picture, I know that is you, still and still awake in my secret
Should it be glowing like the Renaissance,
Or consumed by fatuity like the Dark Ages
Reimburse me, reimburse mi tiempo that'been spent by your business
You were dead, but then ascended
You were stop existing, but then resurrected
Behind the Glass, I can’t see anything
Is that my reflection or your shadowy silouette?
You are the puppeteer, Puppeteer of my mind
You poured me weariness and unascertainability
I’ve condescended my entity
Be honest, or I’ll draw my own sketch according to my felony
And forgive me for cutting my string from your control bar
I cry for you, I cry in my silent
I won’t stay here because I don’t want to lose you

corde amare, toto pectore
(to love with passion, with all the heart)

December 3, 2009

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