Colette Cornatzer's Blog

I write in red,
So these words will bleed me,
I feel as though I should be dead,
And I probably should be,
But I'm not!
I curse this world and the next,
Not to mention my empty cot,
I am hexed,
And unbelievably vexed!

Scarecrows and masks
Ghouls and goblins,
Mad scientists with flasks,
Escapees from the looney bins,
Do not faze me!

Jack-O-lanterns and vampires,
Hay-rides and haunted homes,
Killers for hire,
And those freaky lawn gnomes!
I take all in stride,

For death is not the worst,
Life can be an even greater devil,
I am plagued and cursed,
At an immortal level,
Without you!

Tis my fault,
This spell you swallowed,
And I cannot bring this to a halt,
So, I sit here and wallow,
In my pain,
And my pity,
From this I have not a thing to gain!

You were smart and witty,
And now, I sit on your grave and weep,
I dug this grave upon which I sit,
And not a peep,
Comes from the souls of long ago,
Knowing that to your demise, I was the key,
And no amount of begging, favors, or dough,
Will do the trick 'cause the devil that killed you is in me!

Does life die slowly;
Or is it the result of a sudden stop
after a varying length of drop?
Does poison kill the living;
or is the murdered target dead at the hit?
Is life a drunken dream,
with death as the sobering, eternal hangover?
Or is the pursuit of life merely a façade
Inevitably cascading toward a bottomless pit?
With the flow in which you drown:
Molten gold?
Or soiled lead?
Perhaps even your trespasses,
Entertaining and pooling.
Like blood after the kill.
Is life a game?
And if it is,
Is it better to lose?
The victor; who finds the end?
The final damnation;
The inevitable plunder?
Or is this piece you play a worthy token?
Who is worthy of deciding?
Surely not the piece to the left
Or the piece to the right,
Just you:
The sinner.
The saint.
The lost soul.
Or the vindicated.
We all bleed red.
We all live.
And in the end,
We all die.

I am the word on the page,
The thoughts in my head,
The murderer,
The savior,
The sinner,
and the ritualized immortal.

I take what we cannot see
and illuminate it!
I take what we cannot smell
and douse you in aroma!
I take what we cannot hear
and shout it!
I take what we cannot feel
and strangle you with it.

My own Entertaining Thoughts
surprise me.
My own wish for salvation
eludes me.
My own mind and its wishes
betray me.

The name on the binding,
No stranger,
The story within,
No surprise,
But the thoughts which entwine it
Are scary...
Those are my own Entertaining Thoughts,
What are yours?