cureforcancer

-What do you consider love?
-When can it be considered love?
-Is love needed for a mere kiss?



Dreams Are Made of These

The night was cold.
The evening air pierced the frail window sealing
As I prepared to turn in for the night.
Thinking over what had happened that day,
Sleep wouldnt come easy,
But, I knew it would eventually.
There wasnt much to do in this small town,
Small minded place,
But I could always find something.
I closed my eyes trying to forget
What flashed through my head;
The random pictures and thoughts
Burned like a wildfire through my mind,
But somehow always kept one part
In track with my rest.
My eyes started to roll into the back of my head
And my thoughts turned to blurry images and colors.
жжжж
I knew sleep would be far off,
As soon as I could feel the cold chill
Of sleep sweep over my spine,
My eyes shattered open to the spackling on the ceiling.
Wiping the cold sweat from my brow,
I threw the blankets against the wall,
And rolled out of bed in search of a drink.
My feet lumbered across the bedrooms thick shag,
I reached for the handle of my bed room door.
жжжж
Sleep was only a dream;
I didnt think I would obtain it tonight.
My stomach wasnt agreeing with me,
Having past experiences with the feeling,
Pushed my sheet to the side,
And sprung out of bed.
There was something sharp
Embedded in my rug
Slicing my foot open.
Metal maybe, but I wasnt going to check,
It was just a cut,
And I had to use the bath room.
I reached out to turn the door handle.
жжжж
My eyes barley parted
To let the light from under the door shine in,
But it was enough
To disturb my adolescent slumber.
My arms drug my tired body out of bed.
Whoever was responsible for this disturbance
Would get a piece of my enraged mind.
Reaching for the door,
I turned the handle,
In came a bright light,
Invading my sight like a great army.
жжжж
The cold sweat breaking on my brow
Broke me from my unconsciousness.
Something was not right.
I noticed the door was cracked.
As I approached the half lit foyeristic part of the room,
The light crept up from my feet to my eyes.
Flinging the door open,
Light cast into the dark room,
And his pupils shrunk 10 fold.
He stepped into the hall
With a creek of the floor boards.
His parents door was half open
Dark on the inside across the hall.
Next to it, the guest room,
Where his father works late into the night.
The lamp by the door, barley in view,
Flickered, half lighting the room.
Stepping past the frame of the room,
He saw a body, not alive,
But more in the state of total disarray.
A cold breeze blew on the back of his neck
And as soon as he could turn around,
The bedroom door from wince he came
Slammed shut with a thud.
His body went limp
As he crashed into the door trying to open it.
жжжж
Cold chills ran up his feet and legs
As his senses came back from standby.
He had that feeling of someone in the room.
I could tell from the shivers of the sheets hanging on the floor.
He stepped onto the floor, right foot then left foot.
I should have pulled in a little tighter under the bed,
His foot caught the tip of my knife,
Luckily he didnt notice. As he stepped into the hall,
He had a timid hunch in his back,
Like he was expecting to see something he didnt want to.
As he went out of view toward the guest room,
I snuck out, pulling the door tight behind me.
He turned, I struck.
Number 2.



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