Outside in the Desert by Nicole Terry Outside on the dry sand wondering how you wound your way into such a sad state of existence. When was it that you decided you were going to be handcuffed by the grand manipulators pulling your strings to make you sing? War beats at your front door in the shape of cross-wielding bodies caked in blood and smoke. You’re so tired goes your claim but you know that someday no one will be able to rescue your voice from the strains of your exposed slit throat. SUICIDE!!! Whoever screamed such a word into existence and made you believe? You know not to listen to the words but only to hear the implications of plaintiff kings and queens all ripe for the last time you sit down to feast on the silent beasts crawling at your feet. The sky opens up its universal mind but you can no longer recognize the music of the spheres. A pity, some one of lesser mind may think. But you know more, although not better. A bet is exactly how you came to be. You wagered your mind for a few short years of the greatest scheme called life. Would you rather Imagination? Yes, you would. Imagination: an ancient wound wept into the womb of Planet Earth. You’re losing it, but you know you’ve already lost. Why are you still chasing the trail of hands infestation?  © Copyright 2008 Nicole Terry ALL RIGHTS RESERVED   [back to Poems] [Sensual Poetry]