Riley's Poetry

Prose · Free-verse · Reflections · silence

Welcome

I am the withering flower upon wasted dunes. A silhouette that is cast by a star that has long died.

I wish to claw at my skin

I am the tragedy of a star that cannot shine. A tragedy of point in space that is not. The woeful dance and the thornful resins grow within a fat heart. An arrow that is shot that enters where an eye cannot follow. Walking a trail built by those previous that leads a circle. A sign that i cannot read. A sign that guides others to where i cannot follow. I am a shape loved by joy and sustained by tragedy. A mask that cannot be taken off for it is my skin. I yearn to reach my hand unto the light, not to fear its distance, not to fear for my arm to be bitten. But to touch my own voice, as i speak. For the first time.
Theme: identity, yearning, trapped selfhood, distance, inner pain.
Mood: cosmic grief, self-alienation, dark stillness.