Fabrication

The sky churns,
with whispers; pedaling scared.
Vessels frozen with mirrored woes,
yet i continue to pace...
... in the padded rooms.

.
.
who stares from the other side?
.
.

paintings of brittle images
almost mosaic to the texture.
as if crumbling with tears
down the vivd crevices; nothing.
well.. almost nothing...
felt so serene and real, more so,
.. than this box of chocolates.
withered roses accompanied as a pair,
mere purpose I suppose; to my existence.
To live is to breathe yes?
but when I breathe it hurts.
so I live in pain from the thoughts
that are rancid and vague but dance
to the cadence of my joyous smile.
These once were innocent walls.
They once were rid of stains and effortlessly
protected me from any rain and supported
-foundation.
The silhouette of the lost maiden,
daunting, fearlessly as I passed her by.
exchanged gazes but never places;
though I was it were fair.
may you rest knowing that I,
stood over you in fear and care...
... but the man in the green
plaid possum to my many dreams
-leaving Me, soulless and bare

"she still talks of that night?"
Plain as day sir.
everyday exactly at 1400.
"You think she would ever recover?"
only time can tell but we really should...
but nothing!
.
.
.
No one must ever know what she refuses too forget.
*presses tape rec on the tape deck for daily log*

test subject 4931- seems unweary of tests conducted today.
Her memories though remain to be clear and vivid.
Will try again for tomorrow.

My dearest Sarah; our angel will be better I promise.

-Story