my eyes don’t recognize you anymore

when the voice speaks, the skeletons come out to frolic through waves of disillusion. the chord which is struck reverberates beneath the surface orchestrating music for the remnants of ash swirling through the air, blackened within our hearts, searching for release. the need to feel, to be alive, unrestrained, grasping for eternity, falling without a net. the ground hurts beneath shards of red, rushing fluids, electrons firing til the light grows dim. it used to be real, a dream, figments of words pasted between needs of self-neglect and wants of lonely betrayals. when it hurts it feels alive, almost real throbbing within the loins of somber beliefs driven by extremes of passion. love. hate. inside it becomes a voice trembling under hot red lips, the temptress threshing on the stalks breeds an image too strong from which to shift our focus. the ghost lingers a scent dwindling among the wind memories almost too vague to recollect surge beneath the flesh. remember once how words could never contain the flames as they rose high into the night. all too familiar the race without an end. the journey stifled before it had a chance to stimulate fanacticism.