Sometimes I feel like no one really reads things I post on Facebook or other such sites, especially this one. Well, I hate sharing my poetry with poetry with people, but I have an odd urge to share the one I wrote tonight. I figure, if no one reads my blog anyway, I can safely post it here and satisfy that urge while still being protective of my most sacred thoughts. Ceiling Textur/e Snow-capped peaks stretch long shadows,/ cropping the corners of lamp-lit valleys,/ Stage to child-like haunts/ and witness to forsaken cries;/ They speak, as dreams, do/ to the hidden, protected soul,/ uncovering horrors unsecured/ and fears realized, in solitude,/ Dripping omniscient truth/ frozen by day, light's serf,/ but, in the master's absence,/ rouses the ritual witch-dance,/ which tickles my guilt,/ boils my stew thoughts,/ allowing demons to be affectionate./ Into myself, I welcome the dance./ Snow-capped peaks dim into shadows/ as my lamp-lit nightmare ends/ forsaken sobs are still like dreams/ sleep cannot kill child-like haunts