Monday, November 1, 2010


Your face jars my memory like a spider crawling upon the dusty shelf of my mind
Leaving fine threads of web in the empty spaces.
Not visible until it’s too late then no matter how you wipe they seem to bind
Covering your skin and tormenting as you claw at your face So beautiful and delicate yet terrifying to the depths
Cataclysmic is too kind of a word it’s too clean and scientific
No single word can hold your true meaning
You are beautifully all encompassing blood curdling horrific
You are an event, a time, a generation
Yet I see only the great void when ever I chance upon your gaze
The next stage, the last stage, evolution
I tremble and hope you go away , then I pray that these are not the last days
Now I know I am that fly
Unable to resist the temptation even as I see my brethren twist for their very life
It is no longer about live or die.
It is an obsession that drives closer in to what I despise the inability to turn from your beautiful eyes
©10-27-10 MJMansfield
Click on  M. Jay Mansfield for bio and list of other works published by Pencil Stubs Online.

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