The Angel of Dreams- A Poem

Tired and desolate again,
I sink into my bed
and allow sleep to cover me with it's dark blankness of
night.
In my dream
there's an angel.
she
is soft and warm,
comforting me
soothing me
playing with my tangled hair
rubbing away my tears
with soft, fragile fingers and
wiping my nose clean,
whispering sweet
lovely words into my wide open ear
I drink them in
not even noticing
(or just not caring?)
that I am
stark naked.

and for some reason,
this angel,
this guidance,
this loving
tender
beautiful
angel
looks a heck of a lot
like my mom.

Those Eyes in the Darkness- A Poem

Those eyes in the darkness,
Staring down at me,
Ah, the strength and the poise.
And the lean formed figure
Stands,
Ready for attack.

Those eyes,
One a dark shade of olive,
Glistening like an ocean's wave.
And the other,
Lighter in shade.
Like topaz and sapphires
They shiver and stare,
Glaring down at
Me,
The opponent in his twisted lair.

He follows me down,
The king in the darkness.
And I am the queen,
His hand at the bowl.
He jumps along daintily,
Outside he goes.
Out to the cool night air,
Out to the stars and the grass
That waves before him.

The black monster swerves and curves,
The teeth of the beast are there.
And the zooming populous
Cries out in despair.
The cat on the road.
Lying.
Still.
Silent.
The dark wings of the night
Swoop him up.
His soul, it goes.
His heart he leaves.

And that night I dream
Of a place out there,
Where the cool night air
Circles around me,
And the stars blink from overhead.
There he waits for me,
Purring and staring,
Those eyes in the darkness.

Perfection- A Poem

I want to
lose myself to
the moment.
Any moment.
I want to know that feeling
of complete and utter
anadonment of common sense,
just so I can follow my own heart.

Instead,
I have too much sense.
my heart feels encased by
feelings of guilt and terror,
wrapped up in my own selfisness.

I want to love.
I want to know the feeling in
that moment when you know
for sure
that love is true, is powerful.
I'm sure that love
would push out all the guilt I'm holding,
shoved back into the
farthest corners of my mind.
Not wanted, but always present.

I am
fitted,
pushed,
prodded,
into a mold.

I need to express.
I need to express the feelings
that I'm clutching like a life belt.
Afraid of drowning.

But I want to drown.
I want to drown in feelings so
strong they simply sweep you away.
It must be the most beautiful way to die.

Instead, I drown in pain.
Instead, I drown in hate.

The world is drowning in hate.
Again.
Only this time, I truly am afriad
there'll be no life belt
to hang on to.
Nobody to struggle to cling to.

Just that perfect,
inescapable mold,
laughing on the sidelines.
Sneering.
Saying:
"You were stupid enough
to fall for me."

And when nobody can cling on to
that mold any longer,
we'll all be exposed as the
imperfect, monstrous creatures
we are.
You may be afraid.
But I am not.

Because who really wants to be perfect?