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peterdawes — Bleeding the Assassin
by-nc-nd
Published: 2008-09-02 02:29:48 +0000 UTC; Views: 484; Favourites: 17; Downloads: 3
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Description
all too often, i view this worldwith the passions of a lover.
how do some sit by and see reality
without being consumed by it?
prick the arteries of the poet
and he shall bleed
attempt to cauterize his soul
and he will only learn to hate instead.
i pursue the sinners while sympathizing with them.
i consume them while seeing my reflection
entangled within their lifeblood.
the assassin of the innocents and
i forget myself as i stalk them.
to slit their throats, i slit my heart
and allow myself to bleed out with them.
how do others hold the candle
without being burned by the flame?
how do others love without
being consumed by the experience
of passion met with purpose met with promise.
somewhere in the midst of
screaming out amidst the scourge of feeling
everything
at every time
for every one
i wonder what it is like
to feel nothing at all.
there are those more dull and those more able
to walk amongst the pyres of hell
without being licked by the fires
bent on their destruction.
but i am one of those prophets
who dances with the visions in his head
being destroyed a hundred times over
by each and every visceral sensation
while waiting for the day when senses jaded
and cynicism overwhelming
overshadow the heart that has not learned
how to finally cease beating
after all these years.
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Comments: 12
beautiful 
'how do others love without
being consumed by the experience
of passion met with purpose met with promise'
such beautiful lines, that touch somewhere deep inside, a feeling i think everyone at some stage has experienced, when that feeling of love is over-whelming
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And here I was wondering if I was the only person crazy enough to be like this.
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Sometimes I wonder if we detach because we are so overwhelmed with sensation we cannot bear it. Better not to cry at all than to weep ourselves dry. Very well done Peter.
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Absoloutely stunning piece!
It's really interesting. I realize how many people have come up with poems trying to express how numb they feel, how they've come to not feel anything at all, but as you've expressed in this poem, that's what artists do. They can't help but feel, succumb to the emotion and overwhelmed by the power of it.
It would seem that it's the artists are the ones that are either not strong enough to block it all out, or couragious enough to feel the beauty of everything. To just feel. It's everyone else that's numb...
Hmmmm
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oh to be numb. at times, i would love such a thing.
i think this is what makes us what we are. perhaps even what drives some of us into insanity. we admire the world through such intensity that all its sound and fury resonates within us until we must depict it somehow.
but, oh, to be numb.
thank you very kindly.
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So true. Numb would be endurable at times.
You are very welcome.
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thank you very kindly, dear mithgariel.
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you are too kind, nico. thank you.
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Wonderfull, indeed. It seems that every word just flows into the next . . . very nice work, love.
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