into the suffering

lake of ice and murk
black birds in thousands,create the night, the winter begins
wilitin, of a kind
we fall into the nothing of the yesterday
blood on the ground, spilled
for reason of not
they do not know, they do not understand
shedding of the skin, rotting
like the sun setting in hell
branding the sick to sleep, nightmares of the dead
welcoming home the fallen, the worn torn solider, with prey on their shoulders and love letters in pocket
eyes split open, tongues cut, and we know
clocks ticking backwards, blood spilling in the bathroom
knees brusied, window broken
black bird on the still
blackness like death
fade ---------- until nothing

carrie ann kawa 5/2006

a demented little piece from a great artist

yes i have a dark side, is this my darkest poem { hardly } it is away to gate you into my darker stuff so if this not to your liken do not tread with me in one way putting it on paper saved me far more then you know dark on paper, smile on face ,balance ,but i found out six people said to me why do you look sad i said im not sad i was thinking we can all guess what i was thinking, but i did not mean to look sad intesrting
later underworld    cak