Back to GrayStorm clouds rolling in.My treacherous mood returns,As the room darkens.
ProvidenceA lone feather,Caught in a warm summer draft.Where will it lead me?
Incidentialsole morning glory,loops itself through the brass gate,and into mine heart.
Reflection PoolWhy will nothing hideThe jumbled distorted truthsI've come to despise?
Too LateGolden sun drops low,As shadows begin to fade.I couldn't find you.
OneI can remember exactly when i first met you.The slight crease in your face as you smiled.If one thing could say something, then that did.I can remember everything.You shaped me. Made me.We grew into each other. We fell apart with each other.I cannot remember anything without you.I can remember exactly when we first kissed.The way your lips felt soft and curious, against mine.If one thing could say something, then that did.I'd live a million miles away.Another life and world away, with you.If I know what love is, it is because of you.
Broken WordsI am nothing butA crippled heartAnd broken words,Lost forever inA dark empty room.
*Possibility*PossibilityLove will flower in summerColour blooms and diesGrey days encroach, love withersMemories sublime.2014 Delice19412nd March2014:iconrosablu:
DivineI’m wanderingDeeper into the depths of my mindI’m roamingFurther into the darkI’m whispering…Whispers of despairWhispers of agonyWhispers of crueltyVicious wordsA revolting incantationRottenAbominableDiabolicalI’m fallingDeeper into the depths of my soulI’m sinkingFurther into the blackI’m screaming…Screams of revulsionScreams of tormentScreams for bloodSpells of repulsionHymns of the damnedDecayedSpitefulDivine
The Value of WorkYour art is beautiful, unique, horrid, terrible...What does it take to dignify value?The ability of my mind to comprehendPeoples creations through the lens of my own.We can all demote or praise works made by the peopleBut where does this process come from?A line on a portrait capturing the essence of simplicityOr the detailed work of a landscape settingWhy do we put so much effort into finding the value?Materialistic in natureCreatively hollow.Maybe this is the wrong thing to sayPerhaps anything I say is false.So then, I shall ask againWhy?
For YouI don’t know how many wordsI’ve put into poems.Or how many conversationsI’ve had in my head.They’re all directed right at youThough we’ve not met.Maybe once we finally meetI’ll haul them out.Show you the lines of my heartThere on paper.And if we never actually meetThey’re all I’ll have.A life that could have been livedCharted in ink.
She smells like flowersThe young boy just wanted to hold her tight As he felt her amber hair flutter about in the breeze Looks scattered timidly, unrestrained heartbeats faded away This young adventurer finally found the fragrance he'd die for. Putrid seas of despair became Twilight's holdings Here comes victorious Dawn, hammering her flowered flag into The possessed boy's skull. This new Freedom he was blessed, Kept running through his mind as if he has lived thousands of lives.He craved her all night long, a fellow bottle in hand Waiting made his night last longer than eternal Oblivion Howling as a lost soul, until he smells her again, Beautiful hangover.The shy boy was reeked of youth's insouciance, On his fresh field
A void within meAlone on this inhospitable night, once againI let my memories guide my lost steps,Wandering amid the ghosts of my past.As I walk along the quay,I stare at the feeble Seine flowing:She's dying by the street lamps' handsWhile the whole city asphyxiates. Reflecting my own lack of humanityOver the river's lighted surface,Griefs come and go at the water's rhythm.Once again, on this breathtaking night,My feelings are sealed and my chest hollow.Purple rain, chills of cold.... Or regret? I crave My musical drug, my remaining salvation,Spreading a sweet poison within me andEroding the remaining happiness I still have.I plug my headphones...A grin of relief appears on my weary face,I flee to lenient lands, where a familiar Angel tucks me in.These notes of violin split the immutable silence, Fill the hole in, lit a bonfire to my soul.This mermaid sings my dreams to me,
a constellation of dimension (haikuwrimo).xxi.snowflakes:grieving skies release anguishto make men whole.xx.the atoms collide,stardust renews itselflight years away.xix.borderlining heaven,you linger amongst the stars --space surrounds you.xviii.a perfect body:the natural satellitewith craters on skin.xvii.a lone star wishesupon a dying human --the beauty of death.xvi.clouds wrestle,thundering when touched --the art of war.xv.like a fallen star,you are devoured in the night --heaven or black hole?xiv.downpour:flowers bloom in my heart.xiii.four billion yearsof atoms treaded --baby steps.xii.you shine brightly likeyou are amongst the heavens --thank my lucky stars.xi.curtains draw back &dreams in colour are revealed --act one: the rainbow.x.heaven weeps --mortals reach to touchshooting stars.ix.string of pearls:sewing orion's belt.viii.wolves sink teeth --fabric of society dripsred riding hood's blood.vii.in the dead of night,the kill of life's left behind --a light year
Fell AsleepHe sat on the floor at her feet, resting his back against the base of the leather couch. She sat above him, her legs folded underneath herself while her arms were crossed. They were currently watching a movie, but she was slowly becoming disinterested as the plot progressed. Stick with it, she thought to herself as she stifled a yawn. He said it was a bit slow, but that it got better. Blinking repeatedly, she tried to stay awake as the movie wore on, wondering why there was no development between the main characters. There wasn't any action- no excitement- nothing to keep her from falling asleep. The only thing that forced her eyes to stay open was him; he would sporadically look up and give her a half-smile, mostly to see if she was still watching. She would smile back and shift her eyes to the TV, but boredom was slowly taking over her tired mind. When she was
Day of DemonsPeople walk peacefully down the streetsA loud murmur of talking is the soundtrackThey hurriedly move towards their destinationsUncaring about those around themUnknown to those hurrying peopleClaws begin to poke out of the groundBehind those claws come a hand, then an armThen comes the ugly head of the bodyOut comes the first demonA dastardly looking black creatureWith joy, the demon comes behind a womanCarefully, his long yellow claws reach for her shoulderAnnoyed, the woman turns aroundBut the sight of the demon freezes her angerThe blood drains from her face as fear overtakes herShe lets loose a bloodcurdling screamFueling the demons rising from the groundOne by one the rest of the humans notice themSending each of them into a panicThe demons happily chase after the peopleLike a cat after a mouseThe reverberating screams are cut offOne by one as the chaos continuesThe survivors hide where they canAs the demons run around the streetOccasionally slipping in red
Whistle: A True Short StoryThree years ago, while my sister was walking home, something very strange--and disturbing--took place. Before I jump ahead of myself, however, I'm going to explain a few things.We were 12 years old at the time, out in the suburbs of Illinois. Autumn had come, making everything brisk, and foliage and rooftops turn the color of fire. We lived not too far from our elementary and junior high school, which looked something like those little red schoolhouses you see in old films. Our apartment had three floors, and the only other person we lived with was my father. We'd moved in after my mother and father divorced. Neat little shrubs and hedges surrounded our complex. The park was only a walk away. Sometimes, we'd go there to play with friends. Our area wasn't heavily populated, and very quiet and clean. Our neighbors were mainly elderly folks, who would sometimes make small talk with my father.Hardly anything out of the ordinary happened--all was well and good.Now, before you assume abso
Something AboutHe said there was something about the way I looked, the face I made, the sips I took.Every morning I wake, splash some water on my face, and head outside to practice my yoga uninterrupted.But this morning was different.This morning I lowered my hands under the cool running water of the sink, rubbed it against my aching eyes.And when I opened them, in the darkness of the early morning, a streak of brilliant orange reflected in the mirror.As I paused, he knew I had seen it.His warm arms wrapped around my waist from behind. He held me tightly against him, whispered excuses as to why he did so.Something about this morning, the lighting, my tears, I don't know what it was exactly, but it kept him there next to me.He watched me as I sipped my tea, with that sadness in his eyes, but he smiled.And I knew. It wasn't me he saw.But he had no idea.He says there is something about the way I look, the faces I make, the sips I take.I chose to stay in bed this morning. I didn't particularl
Forgotten DreamWhen I was youngI had a dreamA dream so vividA dream so realIt was better than realityBut now it is goneI can't rememberWhat the dream wasAll it is nowIs a forgotten dreamWhen I was youngI believed in fairiesI'd imagine them coming to meAnd taking me to fly with themBut I’ve forgotten that feelingWhen I was youngThere was a monster under the bedI'd make my parents checkEach and every nightBut now I've forgotten that fearWhen I was youngEverything was an adventureI'd imagine I was chasing a bad guyI was the hero of every taleBut now I've forgotten how it was doneWhen I was youngI had no worriesEverything was about playingThe world served to bring me joyBut I've forgotten what that meansWhen I was youngI had a dreamA dream so realIt couldn't be realA dream all my ownBut now it is goneAll my feelingsHave faded awayThe only thing leftIs just a forgotten dream
When Death Cheats You WARNING: This contains strong language and violence. Viewer digression is advised. Read at your own risk. Everyone knows the term "cheating death": it's when you get to escape the ending of your life, or the cruelness of how it will end or just the terror itself it carries. But everyone knows that Death will eventually catch up to you. Some people can evade it for a long period of time while others may not have the best of luck. I cheated Death once, and it hasn't caught up to me... yet. Before I die; before I'm caught, I want people to know his story. Yes, his story, not mine. This isn't about me. It's about the one young man that will live a thousand lifetimes more than me. I will die soon and so will my story. His will just fade away to the point where no one will remember. So to keep his story alive, I will tell you everything he told
WonderShe sat outside the door, knees tucked into her chest, her arms wrapped around them, and wondered.She wondered how it was that mountains managed not to collapse under their own weight. Surely all the countless millennia that hung on them like snow must eventually wear them down until they became smaller than a grain of sand. How can something with such experience still be so strong?She wondered how it was that the sea still had the energy to rush up onto the shore each day. The oceans that were filled with the salt of all the tears ever shed, filled with countless long-lost messages praying for salvation that would never, ever be heard. How could it do anything other than huddle in on itself so that it wouldn't fall apart?She wondered how it could be that the sun could still shine down every day. Seeing everything, as it surely must from its celestial viewpoint, how could it be so cruel as to bring light to every day, making it easier to see the world that it shone upon. How could i
Avoidant Personality DisorderI've never gotten to explain this to anyone before, since every time I try, I break into some sort of sobbing fit. If my explanation sounds a little funky, that may be why.Yeah. So, I have APD, or Avoidant Personality Disorder.To summarize, it's a disorder that makes people want to avoid social contact and criticism by all means.Unfortunately, that includes me.I didn't know about the disorder until I browsed through psychological disorders for writing purposes, and happened to find it. I matched every single symptom.Every last one, period. And I believe, wholeheartedly, that I have it.This isn't your WebMD diagnosis, not when you feel so badly.It's a really difficult feeling to describe.Whenever you so much as try to make conversation with any person, you feel like chopping your head off. In my case, you're afraid to say hello. Or goodbye, or thank you, or I love you, or things that people should be able to say without stopping to think.You feel unworthy o
HungerA wave of hunger crashes into meNothing like I ever felt beforeThe urgency in the voices of my head are getting louderThe first cut never feels enoughThe devils are still aiming their arrows toward my heartControl is long gone and has left me aloneI can’t recognize my own body anymoreSo many scars, so many reasonsGuilt and shame hits me hardThere is no obstacle to hide behindBut i’m hungry for the pain that can silence my raging mind
NostalgiaUnworthy of you,All I can hope to possess,Is this memory.