Monday, June 1, 2015

STEVE MANOLIS


STEVE MANOLIS

THERE IS NO DARKNESS

The torment washes me,
Much like the coldness of my pool
In april,
Or the dark of midnight
The lights of a million pinpricks
Wash the sky into brilliance
Yet the darkness is there
A constant
Yet I invite this torment
It lives with me in the corners
Tucked away in recesses
My mind knows no other sensation
It writes these words
It becomes me
The passion,
The angst,
The bitterness of life
The sweet taste of morning
It is raw, as these words
It punches through
Leaves the scars
That become me
It is the shards of glass
Drawing out pools of blood
Coagulating into this poem
This life


The torment washes me
And I am cleansed

COPYRIGHT STEVE MANOLIS 2015.

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