((The snow falls over the night covered street; the last lamplight to reveal the departure of white flakes from sky to earth fades away in death... and all is dark.)) -- Poetry and Prose

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Date Posted: 23:10:23 02/27/03 Thu
Author: ...
Subject: ((The snow falls over the night covered street; the last lamplight to reveal the departure of white flakes from sky to earth fades away in death... and all is dark.))

The masculine feline paw rises from the sodden ground, hovering over the crystal that was his sudden realization.
But too late was he aware of the tears that implode within his sister's mind.

Is he THAT worthless?
That stupid?
That dumb-assedly ignorant?
He rips apart his own soul
by theft of what was rightfully hers.
There it lays,
a killing weapon,
a shard of stone,
a blade upon the ground; ready, ready to kill again.
Or wait, is it more?
A being,
an instant,
a joy,
a truth that seemed to stretch beyond lies in that moment,
that solitary moment of bliss and recognition.
Or perhaps, to her, it was more then that...
Something that this stupid male will never know,
though he tries,
though he copies,
though he idolizes and practically worships.
He is stupid.
Dumb-assedly stupid.
And he will never be more then stupid.
At least to the world around him.

He twists, turns, writhes...
For he is lost,
stuck between a world of knowledge and ignorance,
the bedamned ignorance.
The ignorance that put the lighter step beneath his feet,
the twinkle in his eye,
the laughter in his voice.
The ignorance that everyone prefers over his knowledge.
Which sends the creature a'spin in a world of anger and hate.
No one sees this hate,
He's far too careful to let that out.
No, no,
they see the repressed anger,
they see sadness,
while silently, the roar grows,
waiting for its instant to be free.
Claws yearning for a tear at the flesh of others,
all the while killing the soul within.
The being KNOWS he is more then a slap-happy dumbass.
He KNOWS he is more then just a helper.
He's cruel, he's heartless...
Occasionally warning's slip out.
My god, he's no foolish kitty,
ready at the pounce of a non-existant sugar-rush or laughing spree.
He's more then this,
much more then this.
He's fury,
he's terror,
he's the writhing of knowing far too much and yet finding himself glad of knowing it!

Or is he ignorant?
He knows things and yet he is angry.
The paths are laid before him and he is lost.
The only one who can guide him
he stupidly turns away from,
obviously flaunting his bedeviled jewel,
showing off his bedamned lands,
his prying scent now rubbed on nearly every tree that was once sacred to his sister,
and once belonged to his sister alone.
He must be some sort of cancer,
but where is the medicine to cure those he insistently attacks?
Does it not exist?
Why should he not kill himself and help so many others;
including his own anguish-weary body...

It would be too easy.
Too quick.
Too kind to this worthless being.
Too hopeless.
Too life-like.
Too truthful.

And it would kill those whom he loved, and indeed, he lived only for them now.... knowing full well that though he hurt them at the moment, his permanent departure from the planet would mean certain death.

Ears fall back against his head,
Blood streams from self-inflicted wounds.
The cat falls to the ground,
tears falling from bloodshot eyes.

And the black crystal is shattered beneath the falling of a tattered paw.

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