Skin Deep (Disorder in Paradise)

This toxic flow through my veins
weakens me more each day.
Sometimes I feel like I’m drowning
in six inch deep water.

(Caught in a razor sharp
angel’s hair web,
Hearing the hurt banshee’s scream.
Although I know the pain is real
I pray it’s a nightmarish dream.)

Ghost pale people made of plastic,
blackest eyes burn into me.
Whispered words echo off the walls
destruction’s door has lost its keys

(Clouds twirl round,
dancing like wraiths,
music box melody of the choir of rain.
Knights and dragons fight within
and tell bedtime prejudices to their kin.)

Melancholy white memories start to fade
stained with read and fallen feathers
so much that they’ve turned to black

(Trickster fairies have lost the game,
Kelpie’s toy has broke.
The valiant elf has died
in the bright morning light
and the dead have lost all hope.)

I listen to the spirits around me
calling a hero of choice.
Screaming for help as I do now
lost with a dying voice.


Written August 25, 2005