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Tuesday, September 22, 2015

I post this's almost Halloween month. It's almost SMILEYS' GRAVE time.
In memory of a short story that has found new life in SUICIDE and an even better screenplay that waits in an endless limbo. I love you COLOR OF FLAME. You are me. You are my heart. You are my demise. You are my writer's lost soul.

Watch the video:

From the screenplay COLOR OF FLAME

It takes buckets of bones
And pails of blood
And lots of love
Cause I'd love to love
To live for someone
And be forever giving.
But I can't do it alone
With just my bones...

It takes armloads of hearts
And caverns of touch
And crypts of warmth
A dreamtime of warmth
To care for someone
And be one of the living.
But I can't make one from no one
With just my bones...

Don't you see
The color of flame
Is the color of my heart.
Don’t you see
The color flame in my abyss
Of emptiness.
Can’t you see
The color of flame
Is the color of my graying ash.
But I can’t spark flesh into being
With just my bones...
I beg for mausoleums of breath
And catacombs of flesh.
With just my bones
I yearn for vaults of obsession
Boundless aeons of passion…
With just my bones

I rage enraptured, screaming.
Screaming dire
For the burn of your lips
Living flesh on fire ––
Melt my touch into yours
Meld your soul into mine,
Our molten core of desire
Endless everything on fire.

But I can’t do it alone
With just my bones.
The color of my heart
A lost and dying pyre.
With just my bones
A dark and smoldering mire,
Forever whispering
Love me...
Love me...
Love me...
Poetry: C.A. Broadstone

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