a response to my braille friend

* italic - my braille friend's questions to me
* non-italic - my responses

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

only when we're blind do we learn to see

to my braille friend in cyberspace...
my response is stream of consciousness...
too much thinking in times like these dulls my soul
and catches my brain in a net of redundancies

if you were to write about me what would come of the words?

void descriptions in space
crossing in time
going nowhere
splattered
creeping
circling back 'round
discovering
the similarity of diversity
sandwiched in the moment
stuck with pins
needles
knifed
ripped shreds of existence
walking on shards
remnants of soiled souls
engulfed in flames of mist
transcending air
fluttering away
etched in my dermis
layers
upon layers
of scars
protruding
without wings to carry us higher
so
we
the benevolent ones
stretching our hands out
in self inflicted kindness
deluded and self desolated
we stage deaths
and uphold the utmost supremacy of our inner most regions
and fly against the sounds of violence
and hope that none of this will really be the end of things
where will we go?
where will we be as this game slows down to a grind?
where is this all coming to?
going from?
when this seems all there is?
turning back ‘round
we face ourselves
we see ourselves in each other
and
forgetting who we are
we play the fool
ha ha ha
not for me to know
not for any to know
tender is the words of sin
and sound is nothing in the void

if you were to model with me what would they see?

hands caressing airwaves
touched by sorrow and solitude
masked by erroneous fortitude
and sympathy for the unseen
hold me up gentle water
as masses of tears
flow down
strewn
upon the flames of desire
blended
into torrents of flesh and decomposing molecules

if you were to act with me what world would be the scene?

pulled from the spotlight by shadows
engulfed by dark light
masses congregate
to watch the spectacle of life
proceeding
down
into the trenches of masked warriors
faced with the end of days
oh
the show the must go on they say
but for who?

tell me more ?... much respect to a mystic mind

touch my soul
tell me of love
hate
joy
sorrow
ecstacy
pain
merging of souls
that wither in loneliness
of the gentle things
the horror of things
oh
to be at peace with a raging soul
is it possible?
tell me
is it possible?

written by Christa Bella
in this space
on this day
in this time

nov 26, 2005