POOR POE

[image courtesy of Google Images]

Quite simply, the macabre fascinates me
my readers know and perchance the future too
My words are the actors and your mind the stage
As my parents I too ventured to entertain
albeit in a more sadistically tortured way
The life of a writer is indeed isolation and
the fantasies and cravings of fear and hope
intermingle into a tapestry of literary lies
But therein a nugget of truth between things
as fiction and fact — what is life if not
fact and fiction?  We proceed along our path
as though only truth resides on the corporeal
plane.  To defy light-of-day reality is to
exist in a world of one’s own fashioned by
bravery, instinct, and honesty.

I wish the future the very best but feel
the cloak of humanity shall do us all in
eventually.

Am I right?  Tis so I do believe, yes.

I do.

:: 02-14-2014 ::