Lone Wolf Poetry

Prose and scribblings…

….mostly of the depressing variety. What can I say? Angst happens. I just write it down.




Captor and Caged


Only in verse
Does my true feeling show.
I’m a master puppeteer
And the world will never know
How each new day
I die a little more
And sink ever lower
In the depths of my core.
At times I do wonder
If I let someone in
If my fears would be just
As they’ve hitherto been.
Would I be broken?
Am I right to conceive
That misery stems
From hearts that believe?
Am I strong enough
To weather those rains?
Will I forever shut out
The possibility of pain?
I do not move forward,
I’m stopped; held in place
By a past that I long for
And the future I face.
Without love, without freedom
I choose to remain
Instead of exploring
What I stand to gain.
Immobile I sit,
My head in my hands,
Ashamed of my reluctance
To take any stand.
What will life be
As Captor and Caged,
My heart never healing,
And seldom engaged?
If loved had lived here,
Would I know it exists?
The future is bleak
And cold, swirling in mists.
I’ll continue in my way
To exclude and ignore
The entreating calls
To live as before
When my heart was unbarred;
Alive with a notion
And possibilities of
Accepting devotion.
I’m still surrounded by the ice
I’ve garnered in place
To harden and check
All but the surface.





The Chase


Visions of my future
Spinning in my mind
Eyes wide with wonder
Seeing like I’m blind
One Step above my death
Yet one step still behind
Eyes searching blankly
For whom I’ll never find.
Visions of my past
Haunting every move.
My soul closed like every door
I’ve opened yet to love.
One step above my death
With nothing left to prove,
Soul burning in eternity,
No friendly words could soothe.
Closed eyes to the present,
Enwrapped within the place
I go to hush the demons
That beat me in this race.
One step above my death
At a fiery running pace,
My efforts dying mutinously
As I stare It in the face.







I am a prisoner of fantasy.
My imagination is feral.
It blots out reality;
It sweetens the peril.
If I lose touch,
I don’t want to be saved.
I want for so much
And have so much I’ve craved.
I know never is real;
That will not is true,
But I cannot but feel
How much I need you.
The doors are closed
Not like they once were.
I have never supposed
My burning love would stir
Any ardor in you
Nor a change in resolve,
But I need you for my world to
Have meaning, to exist, to revolve.
So I live out my desire
In the recesses of my mind
Where I’ve no shield from fire,
And no one will find
My guilt, the obsession
With the light in your eyes,
With the talent, the pure expression
Of all I hold sacred
And treasured inside.
There I can forget the cursed
Truth I strive to hide.
I am unloved. It’s unrequited.
I am alone and without
The passions excited
By any shades of doubt.







Inside the Print



I am never so lost as
When I sit in my bed,
Turning the pages
And filling my head
With words that entrance
And bring imagery
Of realms far and near
Revolving eloquently.
Within paper and ink
Escape is insight.
I read and forget
That all is not right.
My world may burn
In fires untamed;
Shatter cruelly at times
Leaving me maimed.
But all I need do
Is open my book,
And elude misery
With no backward look.
Feeding my soul
With charm and wit,
I need no one else
And alone I will sit
‘Til in slumbering calm
I, in fantasy, roam.
Nowhere else ever
Will feel so at home.
Under my covers
And inside the print,
Dreams are all possible
In rose-colored tint.
I have love; I have life;
I know beauty and pain,
Putting nothing at risk,
With nothing to gain.
So much bliss contained
In the bindings that link
And feed my addiction
To life down in ink.







Dreams and Ashes




Like an inconstant hero,
You enter my dreams of life Astounding
So Sure and Free and Bright,
Only to leave me once again
Dazed and suffering, more bitter still,
In the lonely sleepless Night.
I so silently plead for Love’s return,
Passions afire within my aching breast
Though my bleeding heart beats feebly so
Used and spent and fast becoming ash.
I wake to dreams feeling still more real
Than the dawn’s child I reject in woe.
Only my Love remains constant.
My World alters and Towers fall like
So many Matchstick Kingdoms and Bridges of Glass.
I would tear Love out and leave it wounded
Never to hear its soft music that haunts me
With yearnings that shall never come to pass.
In weakness and despair I shut my eyes again
In the cruel and seductive twilight hours
To gaze and dote upon the soft bright eyes
And drink in the smells of luxurious infatuation,
The accidental touches, the caresses of years past,
The loving looks and passionate sighs.
Love is an unwelcome pain and yet
One I could never live without.
Living so shut off and absent from joy,
I struggle to balance my demand for Life with the calling
For the end of suffering, want, and pain.
I’ll remain a lonely puppet and a forgotten toy.











I yearn to feel
Some resolve from
The reasons Unthinkable,
Unbearable, Unknowable

For all the agonies
Bittersweet life brings
Insurmountable, Inaccessible,

I strive to achieve
All my distant dreams
Hitherto Undone,
Unmet, Unmatched,

With resolve to be
Alone in my journey
Unaided, Unfettered,

I fear to reach out
To my fellow players
On this stage Inescapable,
Insuperable, Inflexible,

But will not open my wounded soul
To another s essence
Untamed, Unfamiliar,

I retreat instead
Within the confines
Of my core Unreachable,
Unrevealed, Unfound

To any but myself.
I cannot but be
Untrusting, Unloving,








Emptiness and Apathy



I slide the silkiness over my skin
And remember how I once reveled in its luxuriousness.
Pulling firmly, I yearn for the simple pleasure I once felt
And envelop my body in its folds.
I caress the simple shell of soft cloth
That covers my form, gently floating against my bare flesh;
Lost in the yearning for connection with any emotion
To make me feel alive again.
Dullness shrouds my world.
All that has been raw and bleeding is scabbed over and coarse
Sheltering me from the sharp stabs and bruising blows to my core
That have assailed me for so long.
I want to weep but the tears never come
Leaving me empty and broken with nothing to fill me again
Nor to guide my misplaced soul out of its mysterious depths
Where it lies wounded and dying.
I know I exist somewhere inside
This shell of a woman wandering alone; I’m lost in the labyrinth.
I cannot maintain a balance between my need for feeling,
For fulfillment, for life with passion,
And the unshakable need to hide away;
Never to experience the agonies and horrors of my past
Nor relive the aching regret that loving brings.
I am insubstantial; all ash and smoke.
I feel my heart beating within my breast
Feebly stirring when she looks at me, out of habit more than vitality.
I cannot even experience the unrelenting grief that once poured
So freely from the gashes inside
Made by the knife of unrequited love
And a past so full of shame, fear, and lost opportunities.
I slip silently between the sheltering mantle and the hard foundation
That embraces my empty remains through the night.
Imagining love is not loving.
Remembering the feel of arms enveloping me is not being held.
Memorizing looks, and words, and every accidental touch
Is not sharing passion.
Bleeding inside is not dying.
Smiling sweetly and laughing loudly is not knowing joy.
Regretting my mistakes and wishing for my past to start anew
Will never bring it back to me.



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