She stands, she stares;
from hence she’s found internally.
To a far state of trace, just fragments.
Of a once held relationship,
between hell and mine.
Forgetful little girl, she was,
is, and always will be.
Never certain, always scorned;
while yearning for a piece of bread.
Begging for a stretch of life;
that would lead far beyond the horizon.
Into commonwealth for her and the family.
“The leaves and mine, are never defined,” she said.
“In the bliss of tranquility, on the gates of hell,”
“I will sit, and stare until someone fits so well,” she said.
Until someone can define why she bellows,
why she cries.
Fruits of her tree will come crashing down.
Into an internal bliss of creativity and romance.
What hides behind her used uterus?
What creeps from her belittled nightmares?
Scary notations of scary bomb cars.
In her home, just creeping doors, and loose change,
Selling her temple for a sense of sky.
Leaves her far behind, once laughter’s are lies.
Are shades, stop signs and roadblocks.
She writes, oh she writes, to know the difference.
Just indifference between sky and mine,
and hell she’s already bleeding,
In skies all that’s shining are stars.
She sings, and she waits for another.
Bells ringing, its Christmas time with no Christmas.
Just beatings, and she moves to this music.
Runs from the twist of her sorrows.
Just scatters the rain, into an endless pain.
Just scatters, she waits.
Just scatters, she's searching.
Just scatters, away.
Written By; Joshua Randall
Session IV: Eventually