Let it Bleed
by
Book Cover & Preview Text
SURVIVING THE DREAM HALF MOON TILTED
I had a dream
Floating in the air barely above the rolling waves
A crayola sunset behind me similar to the parasail
Keeping me suspended above the midnight blue sea below
A feeling of peace was surrounding me as was the silence keeping me company
Gazing into the abyss as if it was a crystal ball
An orca appeared slicing through the water, depth unknown
The concept of only the strong runs through my mind
as the ropes of my parasail transform to line and hook
and I'm the bait for something bigger and darker
I wake
The light has dimmed behind the invisible line
Lifting the pessimistic moon above our spirits
Half missing behind a midnight blue blanket
Leaning like a Martini, its contents spilling
Stars' little splinters of pain scattered
Wisps of white clouds escaping like crippled souls
And the darkness engulfs the heart
Will I ever feel the warm glow again
I don't see the light at the end
The cup runneth over...it's empty
I'm empty...staring at a half-moon tilted
Formats
Book Details
About the Book
Let it Bleed
Let it Bleed, hemorrhage, stream, surge, flood, onto the paper, into your lives, into someone else’s mind. Therapy for a hard day, a torn apart relationship, death of a loved one. A cure for confusion, turmoil, disturbing thoughts, a fleeting suicidal tendency.
Let it Bleed, fantasies, visions, illusions, nightmares experienced of craved, dreamt about of ventured. Every day situations or midnight wishes that leave your heart pumping, your mind ricocheting, and your soul tangled with your spirit.
Let it Bleed, my own personal outlet, purging of my mind, bloodletting of the heart, opening the cage to a restless spirit. A porthole to the soul that I think most can relate and understand, open up a wound or sort out the past. Let it Bleed, a scripture for everyone.
About the Author
Michael P. Clark, that’s me, the one that’s responsible for what you're about to read. Born in Staten Island, N.Y. 1964, born to incredible parents, John and Joan Clark, born two weeks early, they say I haven’t stopped since. Attended Catholic School at St. Claires where I was an alter boy and a boy scout until moving to Dunedin, Florida in 1977 with my parents and three brothers, John, Craig, and Matthew. For as long as I can remember I always had a pen or pencil in my hand, drawing, writing, dreaming. Still writing, drawing and dreaming to this day, my imagination, my best friend and my writings are my thoughts, dreams and fantasies. A passion spilling out staining these pages forever. My love for writing, I believe started as a hobby, something that passed time, and that I felt good about during the hours spent doing it. As I got older and into my teens, my adolescence seemed more complex as life’s little changes and unanswerable equations came about my writing became and outlet and has been since. Writing to me is now about as important as my next breath. My mind creating with every heart beat, my fingers translating with every heartbeat, my fingers translating with every exhale, it seems to be what I’m most about. Take that away and a big part of me would die.