I play
noughts and crosses on my skin,
In the
dark of night
When the
games of light and laughter
Get just
too much.
In the
darkness of my midnight
I am drawn
deep
Into the
diversion of noughts and crosses
That let
my demons loose.
Grid of
ruby brilliance
Delicate
sliced lines
Dreamy
razor movements
I play for
my soul.
Cruel
sport marks my once smooth skin,
The night
screams.
As the
stars stare, implacable and cold
My blood
runs for the game.
Morning
comes and the night wears thin.
The game
is played out.
Bloodstains
blot out the victor and vanquished
But it
does not matter.
The
crimson river
Makes
cross and nought the same.
Nothing is
lost
And
nothing won
In these
dark games
Of madness
and blood.
The sun
shines bright on the playful wounds
And dries
the incidental blood.
The
leisure in the gleaming day is replacing
The
midnight games.
Just as
the night screams sin and carnage
So the
morning heals.
Only deep
inside do the scars of night stay,
Hidden
until my next midnight.
End game
Blood
spilt
Dreams
lost
Reality
won
My soul
Still
split
Not dead
Not alive.
Noughts
And
crosses.
