I dance upon the precipice ordained by loneliness
despair awaits me below
the darkest shadows engulf my soul

An ever-winding truth that slithers,
coils around my once docile heart

Gentle, the day
dark as night wrestles free from grasp
falling, great wraiths
of false promise show their true face
within the light

Destruction of self and woe, be not
the tender kiss foretold of doom

Take my hand,
what is left is my own

I reach to take hold of what never seizes in return

Now perched upon the stone
a gargoyle I may be

Stone heart bled cold in marbled strains

May the bearer of the chisel
free my flesh
now long set


-J.G. Smith (09/02/06) (first post of Sept. seems kind of depressing, not intentional though...:) )