Lonesome nights by the dimmed corner lights seep into her mind fragile composures risk exposure to the oblivious bustling life Smiles plastered, hairlines fractured to curate such blissful ties messages she's desperate to send dissipate within the lies

The alarm woke her from her dream Oh, such a dream, one that rivaled the urge to breathe Curtains hung, so vintage and sleek All to evade the scrutiny, a plague she faced for eternity A sigh escaped, and she met her fate Perfection in perpetuity

Trees with branches, and leaves of green hinder the hunter. Yet, feed the beast. It’s a wonder they wander through clear crystal streams. Desperate, the hunter needs to drink. A collision of fate falls to greed. Somewhere, the young begin to weep. Somewhere, supper is prepared with glee. Under the oak tree, the hunter begins to sleep. Under the moon, the young still breathes. Seasons will mingle, the hunter will leave. All while the young graze from the tree.

A small metal box sits neatly on the counter. Two symmetrical holes perfectly center. Place the bread inside the box, watch the heat take over. Crisp edges with delicious butter, her senses overload her. A crunch, then a pause. Oh, to be a toaster.

Pacing the floor, the creaks of the boards fell into tune with the heartbeat she wore. Letters and sweaters stored on the porch, each a reminder of the promise she swore. Cradled her head as she wandered once more, begging the dagger to be her reward Twelve minutes pass, clocks lurching forward Tore at her throat to release the horrors Pleading above, such screams would soar Down below, where she’d dimmed her glow, a whisper woven with twine twice as coarse Would slip from her fragil corpse

Nostrils flare at the stench of one’s destruction Gaze into a world coated in perception Does it lack the sympathy, the empathy. They’ll question What is was that sank the souls Into the deepest of conflicting holes When the boat shakes, they’ll be the exception Perhaps the winds will change directions Perhaps they’ll evade all defection Perhaps the destiny alone is deflection Neither here, nor there, will replace reflection

Against her best wishes she fell into ditches Too big to climb out of, too small to fit in them Against her own whispers she leant him her whiskers Dreaming that one day, he’d keep her for winter The cold then came, he wasn’t the same, He’d coddled the edge when she thought she’d been tame

Cautious are the ones who once weren’t Mindful are the ones who had no minds Reckless are the ones who’ve yet to be wrecked Yet contradict in terms of sense and pride Anxious are those who’ve thought through circles and precious are those who’ve yet to think How would the world spin and twirl when the universe starts to sink?

Little bee, with wings so free Tell me, where’s your honey? The combs, the queens, so sickly sweet Is that their buzzing? Little bee, would you sing? If it meant you’d have to leave A world dripping in honey? No, I think your wings would weep They’re so petite, so fragile they’d scream Without the taste of honey Little bee,tell me why? The hive, they cry and ask you why you haven’t tried your honey? Little bee, take the time to dry your eyes Set your flight, finallyfight For a chance toloveme

In the murkiest dawn, she cleared the room Satin draped against a silky moon Dripping in dramatic golden hues Peripheral visions glare in tune To the siren who dared to steal his loot Not from his chest, but from his tomb

Phosphenes refuse to leave, She fell into the hazes Her soul so far from angry Her balter held their gazes Yet she felt so damn empty And out of such good graces Virulent attempts at bravery Just to venture places

Skin caresses skin Fragile strokes from electrified tips Pulsating with need from an everlasting kiss Sprinkled with glitter from the moon by the wind Lungs expand to guzzle the air they’re desperate to win Sounds deplete to the drop of a pin Soul melts with soul into the deepest of sin

She scratches her throat, desperate, Alone He ushers them in without a word to be Spoke Capture the essence of scarlet then Atone For the sins of their pasts force them to Choke The air in her lungs turn into Smoke Gather their sorrows, their tears, and a Stone When the stake’s in the ground, Will he have the rope?

She recited the alphabet on her first day of class. Each student’s eyes burnt her soul behind the glass. Every hour on the hour she thought would be her last. Curious eyes and petulant lies splattered on her back. The last one in their seat, will be the first of them to laugh. Met behind the bleachers, and forced to take a pass. When the final bell is finally rung, she’ll count to ten, and mask.

Addie may have set the tone for a glittered drunken night, but her mind would creep into the darkest depths when the liquor came to bite. A picture perfect pastel dress boosts her ego in strides. Yet, the liquid inside her seeps much deeper…into her turmoiled tides. Twisting and turning, her stomach is churning as she steps outside. She’s grabbing her head, wishing for death as the sun begins to rise.

She knocked on the door Splintered wood between her knuckles Her soul craved more Yet, she knew her knees would buckle Under solemn oaths he swore And a careless whispered chuckle Had she never once been sure He might have had to struggle

I endure the deepest pain As it slithers through my skin Watch as it invades my veins again Like all the others did Thick as ink and littered with sin The deeper the wound the deeper the Infection If only such liquid Could flow from a fountain pen

A ring around the roses A pocket full of chosen Feathers picked from careful winds Just beyond the ocean Ashes flitter like fallen glitter on wishful tides still frozen Time will gather the sands together To bury what’s been stolen

Slick crimson dribbled down the delicate bridge of her nose. It dripped…dripped…dripped onto the sticky tile, and as the puddle began to grow She slipped into a trance, and curled like a rose. Petals sprinkled from the sky’s translucent hose Flittering in the wind with her goddess’ sorrows When she landed, she cupped her hands And sipped from the bloodied arrows Of each and every fallen foe An attempt reconcile with the souls So eager below

I pause once more As i near the back door The memories call to me Demanding my core I’m not ever one To water the horse But rusted locks Beg to be pure

Lava erupts inside her veins Each and every step she takes Hinder the thoughts that gallop in her brain Would they mistake her for the same Sane betrayed woman With the calming frame?

Ink splattered across the page, she looked at it then huffed in vain. Too much effort had gone to waste. How much longer would all of this take? Maybe if she’d remembered to change The goddamn cartridge, she wouldn’t Be filled with such rage.

Ten thousand lifetimes scrawled on a page Nine little drips leaving a stain Eight years of ink trickle down the drain Seven decades of inconsolable rage Six wretched moments of recognizable pain Fifty seconds for a lifetime to change Fourteen weapons just beyond range Thirty souls up for a wage Twelve of them trapped in a cage One solemn reason to absorb their chains

The scarlet winds have a secret One they wish to keep Woven through the sea’s crest Settled on the peak How it comes to fruition How it comes to be Will depend upon the fiction Written in calligraphy Handcrafted like the waves The scarlet winds will weave

A sheet of darkness covered her mind Not a single light could make it shine The empty head once thought divine Caresses the shed of mahogany and vine Trickling down her splintered spine Are stapled memories of his insolent crime

Mallory’s sickly tree shriveled up one day She gasped and shrieked and called Colleen Wondering how to tame The sullen thing, there were barely any leaves What was Colleen to say? Water the tree, that’s the key For all living things to stay

When Sally lied She really tried To cover the thoughts she was desperate to hide When Sally cried It’s when she knew Her soul had died

She ran around the ghost of her town, shrieking like a clown They called her sick, And with a prick She’d wake inside a gown

When I said I was like Alice I meant I was lost When I felt like the hatter The madness trekked on When I wanted to be queen It didn’t matter the cost Now, as I sit under the tree I relate to the rabbit Cause time was never free

Simplicity and tranquility seem peaceful and true. They work quite well in teams of two. Winding and weaving paths into tunes. How do you know who they will choose? The one with nothing or everything to loose? It’s simple, quite simple, no math here to do. They’ll search and they’ll scour for the bluest of hues. Once they’ve repainted, they’ll find someone new.

Lean into, seep into, sink into the sea She’ll shelter, she’ll coddle, she’ll speak to your needs For her waves, her haze, Will guide you to me

The ruffled feather levitated from the ground Picking up speed when the wind came around Who it belonged to, would never be found

Steady as the waves that crashed upon the shore, She maneuvered through the forest in search for more. All she’d gained, had drifted away, into a speck at the back of her brain She listened to the tweet of the Robin at her feet And stopped to marvel at each feather’s peak. Such softened lines in the wake of reality, Had she wandered away from the heaviest of gravity?

At the stroke of midnight, her raven took flight. She gazed in awe at the marvelous sight, and pondered what he’d do in the night. At the stroke of three, her peaceful sleep Had been thwarted at the hand of her raven’s beak.

At the stroke of midnight, her raven took flight. She gazed in awe at the marvelous sight, and pondered what he’d do in the night. At the stroke of three, her peaceful sleep Had been thwarted at the hand of her raven’s beak.

The ground beneath her began to shake. With a stuttered breath, she fell to her knees, and yearned for the lake

As she sat upon her thorned throne, she pondered the implications of the victory she had achieved. We’re there others out there that shared her desire for peace at the hands of brutal rebellion? Or, would the seven kingdoms ban against her in order to maintain the status quo? Too much needed to be done, she’d known that before venturing out on to the balcony. The only thing wafting through her mind, however, we’re the sleek satin sheets that awaited her in her chambers.

Sunk into the sands of time The clock above only rewinds Humming a melody of distorted lullabies Sink into the hands of mine Promise to skip rocks and flee the tide Sing with me and the seagulls fly A tune to beat with no goodbye Sip the salt water as the sun dives Into the waves like a lullaby Stare at the space until the moon arrives And sink with me into the sands of time

And so, we made mountains from the anthill in our backyard. Spaghetti worms and mud pies slathered Pale concrete in the drive shattered Did it ever matter? Did the sandbox begin to rattle? Chained the gates, and hung the roller skates Back on the mantle All for the ticking sand in the hourglass To end up in the anthill

Her calloused soles crept over to the small bird. It’s wing, bent, misshapen. She gave a soft sigh, and stroked its beak. She’d never felt attached to something so weak. One quick squeak, and she was pulled from her dream. If only she understood the language that birds speak.

My golden statue My coat of arms The one great prophecy, the lucky card I hold to you my burning candle Who’s flame you’ve yet to regard Flicker whilst you still have glow For the gentle wind Has yet to blow

The things she’s seen can amount to the bodies beneath the sea A gruesome reminder that levitates seethe The shaking of stone, those that can roll, bring to them a dying breed Her candor and loyalty beaten and poisoned Resembles the poised and perched Dionysus Who amongst the wolves would bend their knee To adhere to a fallacy so broken and green?

A prophecy set in stone, Is made to crack

A prophecy set in stone, Is made to crack

Lethargic momentum causes distant distraction from the longing I fear for you Every movement so precise, yet the motive remains beyond ruins Heaviest rain on my greyest day may never repair the greatest disdain I have for my beautiful noose Yet, leaving the past, letting it slip from my grasp May paint my blackened heart blue

The glitter in the gel could never Dull the spell you put on me Or the smell Of the lavender breeze Oh, do tell The secrets you wish to sweep Under the rug I took time to weave

The scratch in your throat, it’s there so you know. Know what happened to those that throw. Caution to the wind, refuse to slow Down the racing thoughts that hold you close. Any moment, any second, any hope of all you know will crash straight through your cloud of smoke. Exhaust the attempts to finally show That what you’ve seen Has helped you grow

She waits by the window, The breeze takes her back To the night at the hollow, The night that was her last. A sinking ship left her lips, And her caution truly lacked Now her soul just wanders through This empty oak wood shack. He saunters through the garden, The peonies draw him back in time.. He wonders for a fleeting moment, how their souls entwined. A heartfelt kiss in a gentle mist He thought it was a sign Yet now he knows, his yellow rose, Had thorns scattered on the vine

Snapshots aim for the heart and the brain Memories of serrated steel sharpened in vain. Create the illusion of frolic and fame Sink the ability to wash away. Wind and the waves for you they can’t save But the harshest of battles can pave their own way. Oceans of reasons and lakes filled with blades Can never dismantle the ships you have made.

The way the moon hangs in the sky, the way the water ripples in its light. She never knew why her ambivalent opinions caressed the sun’s shine An altruistic appearance on a summer’s night. One that cut through bone with a serrated knife. One that reminded her of the wounds she would hide. Two lonely souls, collided with hypocritical delight.

Angles are telling, for those that they show Are only those that the winner will know How does one’s tongue remember a drink they’ve not made? For the loser of the battle, will often taste the same. Anguish of mental and physical divide The liquid that mingles in us deep inside Memories posted, and pictures on a page Often depict more than the spade.

Every waking moment plays much like a movie screen, I am the broken camera, rewinding at inopportune times Every waking nightmare haunts much like the ghost in me The torture filled moments plastered on colossal billboard signs When the flash of the lights begin to fade, Remember the price that is to be paid.

Crinkled edges mar the page, Unsuspecting, unrelenting, exerting it’s rage. Under the finest of each of the lines, dons a new era of a twisted time One where they flourish, one where they gain. Another, taunting a meticulous fate Each a curious depiction of vain Each with an image he’s dying to taint

The raven, she stares at the clouds in the sky She grumbles and rumbles with her wings spread up high. No tale too big, no feather too small All will tremble under her vicious caw

Intricate tales woven with sugar Tempt, tame, and ultimately soothe her Webs of glitter hang in the air, altruistically filling naive ears Gathered around her trusted campfire, Emerald jewels glisten with tears All her heart could ever desire A simple and sweet man to conspire A life of lies, a life restarted

Candle lit warmth spreads through the air Trying, just trying to avert my stare Such beauty, such grace, crumbles with ease When the writing desk’s ink begins to deplete Ignore the longing, the empty, the weak Embrace the language the soul yearns to speak.

The thought of me drowning, consumed your being. Calculated words slice through your chest with precise timing. Hands around my throat silenced the voice, But not my heart’s beating. I may be out of breath, But you will be heaving.

I heard it in the silence I felt it on my way home I saw it in the pitch black. It was the little things, always the little things. The toast was burnt, but we were alive Always alive Like the figurines dancing in snow globes I heard it, I saw it, I felt it. Did you?

Drip. Drip. Drip. The sink, the sink, she leaks. Sip. Sip. Sip. The drink, the drink, his lips, they speak. They speak the words she desperately seeks. Grip, his grip, so tight and sweet. Hips, her hips, they fit so neat. Tips, tips of her toes, curl around the floorboard, it creaks Ship, the ship, it finally sinks

Levels on the elevator They keep me up at night Their shocking parallels to the average human life The memories are sharper than a simple bladed knife Yet in its ascension, the ride comes to an end Can one small button really entice One soul to descend?

Jarring thoughts immerse themselves in your brain Scarring, marring the flesh in vain Leaking truths you once ignored Blocking emotions you once explored Evading the brittle line of death Even asleep, it’ll never rest

Sing to me the sweetest of dreams Caress the pillows of our latest schemes Listen to the melodies, feel their symmetry Wear the fleece and it’s vibrant memory For all that we are, remains in perfect synch With the vivacious chorus of whimsical toxicity

Her lungs expanded beyond her body’s comprehension. She’d never run for so long, never needed to. Her fears had become reality, and nothing could prepare her. Nothing could soften the blow that she was next. The moment had been ephemeral, but it’s consequences, substantial. All she could focus on, was her own survival. His mellifluous words had been music to her ears at the time, but in hindsight, they should have been the clearest warning.

A curious mind may start the fire Though, careless dedication makes one heart expire To many, the winds of love may change To some, they’re stagnant and miraculously tame A flawless encapsulation of one such emotion Cannot exist with inescapable destruction

The beauty of you So clairvoyant and blue Endless and true To all that you Do Me a favor and stay Just once more For you are the day That shines to the core The beauty of you Ignites the fuse All that I do Is dream of the timelines I’d explore with you

Impenetrable walls cemented together, Hide her intentions, and encourage surrender. Curls upon curls of silken gold, mask the agony nestled in her soul. Wings of maroon shape her almond eyes in a softened cocoon. Thulian lips caress her thumb, as she wonders what hour they’ll finally come. Whispering wishes of her deepest desires, she’ll flutter her eyelids, And ignite a cerulean fire

A question I’ve found, that’s been asked around, flutters through my mind. The colors swirl. They mix and twirl, I wonder which one I’ll find. There’s sounds and sights. Passion and fights, of love and even crime. Such a shame, they play the game of cruel and callous mankind. Creatures stir, plants conquer. We crave what we are desperate to hide. All in all, with careful curation, I wonder how such lines are defined

Agonizing cries echo through the hall, Gentle, soothing whispers coat her ears What she thought could catch her, had let her fall She cursed her blurred sight, clouded by muddied tears Choked by her sorrow, and tattered soul She remembers the words mother spoke so clear; “All that glitters, will wither to coal. Lift that pretty chin up, my dear. There’s a story to be told.”

Hunters, they gather all that they need Foragers hunt their favorite species Archers, they scope out and feel the breeze But warriors they muster the courage to bleed

Twinkling stars paint the night. To some, They depict hope, wonder, or light. To her, They’re much more, they guide one’s sight Acknowledgement of the universe and its bright beginnings Is a fatal introduction to traumatic endings A cycle may never end, the universe must be right It’s hand ever tempting It’s hold, Ever so tight

When I close my eyes, they always appear. When I shut my ears, they always whisper. When my lips have been stitched with the silk of their lies, I’ll know where the truest of my loyalties lie.

You suffocate yourself with the words you refuse to release

Elaborate decorations sprinkle the wall Letting crisp history head its call Little do they know Though larger than life The history it’ll show Will slice at your soul Like a butcher’s knife Clean and precise The scraps of whom Are left behind The peelings of an onion The linens of kings grueling depictions of systemic agony All coiled together by a plethora of opinion Yet, never untangled with gentle precision

Can the applewood tree whisper to me the wisdom from the years of its being? A subtle hint, a minuscule clue So that in the future, the pitiful blues May blend together and lighten my hues For the deepest of grays Had taken their place Ringing me dry with colorless disgrace

A perfect shade of apricot marmalade Fans the canvas with the most intricate shapes One would say On a tattered day From another angle She depicts the most delicate rays

When the snow melts I’ll finally know. As the smoke clears from the burning rose, I’ll speak the words that cluttered my throat. When Spring becomes the Winter coat, I’ll scratch the end that’s far too close.

Yank your barbed wire from her throat When the blood pours out, make a toast For a brutal mistake one always makes, For instant gratification, there’s no higher stakes A solemn vow, a sincere oath With one guttural sound, Two souls broke.

Stare into the abyss. The fear that you feel, makes your heart twist. Calmness is it’s appeal Though humans can never comprehend How the abyss was never meant to end Oh how the darkness can heal With death’s sweet kiss

Imaginary lines are easy to cross When the ones who drew them Are so easily lost

Listen clearly, and oh, so dearly, My love The fragility of my anger is not equivalent to that of a dove. A ten gallon tank filled with gasoline, Up to the brim A well oiled chainsaw based at its rim. That is the caliber, I would say, Of my exhilarating, bubbling rage

What do I gain? For seeking pain. Pain that when felt, I start to awaken A hand that’s been dealt. One where I’m taken By all things unwell. Oh, what do I gain, From a lifetime of hell? A single, beautiful moment of truth, But a lifetime of heaven, is miles from you.

The oak tree on the hill, it whispers to me, “Does one seek to thrill?” I gaze into its cracks, and listen for more Do it’s words scream wisdom, or am I just torn? What does it mean? When one hears the words of a tree? Have I discarded the rest of my sanity? “Little to none have it anyway.” My mind seeks answers My heart seeks peace But my sanity, she seeks the words Of the oak tree

Darling, I know not what I want. I know not what I seek. Just that the mere thought of you has my knees weak. That your words, they tease and most certainly taunt. What is it that your own heart needs? Is it comfort, clarity, or certainty? Will you take and take and take, from me? Will you unfathomably love, or will you come to haunt?

I remember the day Alice arrived. A blue dress painted her thighs. She wore a bright smile, but much sadder eyes. In the back of my mind, I knew it was the night that she’d finally try. A glass of water, and a seventy dollar tip. All for seven little sips. I look back and ponder the harshest of truths. Would she have lived if she had something to lose?

Connection is key, When a soul is weak. Remember to sew, never to weep. One for the heavens, and two before you speak. For a single syllable, May set you free

It’s crazy the things we tell ourselves when the monsters rise up against every barrier you’ve built for yourself.

Autumn nights slither through Spring mornings, Waiting for Summer to awaken from Winter’s encompassing slumber.

Clean. I want to be clean. The kind of clean that squeaks with ease. The kind of clean that never knew a speck of dirt. The kind of clean that replenishes an old shirt. A clean that has me feeling a semblance of peace. What a dream it is to be clean. Rid of all the built up grease inside of me. The shine that would appear, it would make men weep. If only life would let me be.

He brought out the sun on her darkest day. Hung it in the sky and molded its rays. All so that she could finally rest. And when it came to the final test, The moon did what it does best. It covered the sun in the thickest of clouds. And drowned her sobs with thunderous sounds. When the water began to cover their knees, he built them a boat. He didn’t give up, but removed his coat. He sat next to her, covered her in leather, And told her that they would face the storm hand in hand; together.

A young girl wanders over to the vintage mirror. A mahogany so old. She casts a glance into her elated soul. One so fresh, so crisp, and she doesn’t know. How many days, how many nights, how many tortuous seconds she’ll have to fight through. Her pigtails, they bounce as she skips away. One last look, and her smile fades. For in the mirror, tall and true; Shows the picture of a woman whose soul Emanates a deep, dark blue.

Dusk brings to others what the sun cannot. A peaceful darkness to cocoon one’s thoughts. She’ll coddle and cuddle an insecure mind, and erase the brightness that hurts to shine. She’s not cruel, not of malice, she’s here for you. To shield you, hide you, from such painful truths. Dawn will return, and they will shy away, but Dusk, She’ll nudge them towards her blinding rays. She knows her sister, and what to do. So, at the strike of midnight, She’ll return to you

Crippling anguish released from my soul, Hides the light I’d once come to know. Howls from memories haunt my mind; they suck and suck my essence dry. Only two words can save me now, they hang off your tongue. You don’t make a sound. It’s my hope that hangs on to the last bit of you. In my broken mind you’d spoken the truth. Yet, reality can’t bend, it’s honesty you lack. Because words unspoken, can’t be taken back.

Harsh breaths fell from Adora’s lips. They echoed across the dark alley, smacking into the chipped bricks. She knew it was the liquor stirring the rabid thoughts in her brain, but she couldn’t will them to disappear. She knew it was dangerous, to want him that is. But she did, and as she drew the smoke from lit cigarette, she began to let her thoughts sink into the darker parts of her mind. Would there be fun, in a sick, twisted game of love?

A cobblestone pathway beneath your feet, It crumbles under some invisible weight. One unseen by such vulnerable states. There comes a time when a person must be appeased, By the cobblestone’s ability, To withstand such immeasurable, insurmountable defeat.

Alice gazed beyond the roaring waves, a dull ache gnawed at her heart. She didn’t know, couldn’t comprehend that it was all in the name of art. For it was an accomplishment, one of great honor, that her world fell apart. She sobbed, she wept, and disappeared into the rain. Careful drops of sodium chloride melted her cheeks with a somber stain. She called to the sky with an anguished howl. The sea had been soaked. Alice became the towel.

Egeo: (Latin) to need, lack, want, be without What is it that you lack? Is it a feeling, a person, a thing? When you speak the words you regret, Do you backtrack? How can one truly understand what they need, When what they need, they’ve never even seen? How can one know what they’re without, who they’re without, When they’ve never been with?

Aphthito: imperishable, unfailing, unwitting (Greek) What is imperishable to you, may crumble under someone else’s touch. To one, love may be such… To another, a fatal crutch. Be weary of the things that gains one’s trust. Though they may wither in your fingers, In another’s, they’ll surely linger.

Can a feeling be so strong, That is whisks you from reality? Can an emotion be so intoxicating, That it enhances your favorite song? Can you hear them calling, From your own mezzanine? A wonderland brandishing all your favorite things. A nightmare, destined to bring you to your knees. What can they do, But infect every piece of you?

Water towers, they were constant. Each town, city, or suburb had one. I admired them, and their ability to be so important, yet so camouflaged. A normal person would walk past one, and not even give it a second glance. I ventured to the top of them, everywhere I went. Sometimes I made them a second home. I also envied them. As they were something, everything I could never achieve in this life. Stable. Important. Rooted.

Autumn nights slither through Spring mornings. Waiting for Summer to awaken from Winter’s snuggly slumber. He craves her, is desperate for a taste. Though her days are spent with one filled with hate. His use of Spring, a damning hypocrisy, He knows his morals halter. Though he knows that his sultry Summer, will never falter. Winter’s wicked schemes know no end. Spring’s naivety, however, will be her detriment.

Who sets the colors of the morning sky? Do they understand the gradients of the night, Mimic your musty eyes? How the softness of the clouds precedes your luscious hair? Will they sculpt future mountains by the design of your peak fitness? For all above must be true, Then they’ve obtusely created the world from my point of view.

The northern winds call my name. She speaks the harsh words I know to be true. Freedom will ring, when the fallen blood begins to sing. The crimson will coat her translucent skin, and allow those on their feet to embrace their win. Hope will saunter over, and caress her stained cheek. Two sisters with eyes that understand. The world is not one to hold your hand. I whistle my response: The ghost of the fallen, will inevitably haunt.

Thick tar coats my soul, My eyes shuts I’ve no idea where to go Mind poisoned by endless bliss Can’t make this staggered thought, Feels endless Can’t move through space and time, I’m stuck I can feel anything, I’m fucked Bring me to the light I wish to see joy It’s seems like a ploy Free me from my entrapment, Through these prison chains I’ll never understand my pain

When the air whistles through the trees, Do you think of what could be? A summer breeze? A winter’s frozen sneeze? How does the tree sway? How does the leaf stay? Where do you go, When the air begins to blow?

Shades of green coat the forest preserve, a place of peace, a place so honest and pure. Dingy lights flicker about the gas station, a place of necessity, a place so ordinary. Cars, they line the lots of the stores we frequent, places of commodities, places that form community. What do they have in common? How do they intertwine? For those that vanish, they’re places that give the first sign.

Dripping in crimson, basking in grey, How did you allow yourself to end up this way? Battered and bruising the blemished skin of the present, While producing vibrations that are levels below pleasant. You’ve succumb to the past and it’s daunting depictions, Painting the picture of your suffocating addiction. Be warned that tasting the blood and numbing the pain, Will only prolong what you’ve worked a lifetime to obtain

Step by step, we fall in line. We fall to the crippling power of time. It’s suffocating grip, the intricate tics. Each passing moment we are in its palm. Sucking the salty fingers, to keep it calm. Sleep can only destroy what you’ve worked for. Yet, it’s need is as deep seeded as time is, To mother earth’s core.

Whispers slither up your spine, caressing your ear with thoughtless lies. They hover above your head with flashing lights. They shroud your night with neon signs. Your body gravitates towards them. In the dead of night, their light is protection Though they have the advantage of showing directions, Only you can harness the power to deflect them

Lights flicker from the lamppost’s bulb. They taunt, tease, so relentlessly. A mockery of what used to be. Something once perfect, turned faulty. How do I resume to what doesn’t exist? A place where my mind hasn’t gone to shit. Where is the place that feels safe? Simple thoughts dissolve to the pain. The searing anguish from my darkest days. How can I articulate the emotions I was never allowed to feel? Do I start in the mirror? They say to confront those who betray. I’ve done so: to my own name

Alice sat upon the front steps. Cracked, grey concrete under her frail toes. The summer air curled around her face, embracing her amber curls. Nothing felt more free. Nothing smelled so pure. After years of searching, all she’d yearned for was in front of her. Right at her fingertips. The ones that dripped with fresh blood, crimson proof of the freedom she’d obtained…so pure, so free. Finally, Alice was at peace.

When they tell you to cast your light, You cast a shadow. When they tell you to speak your mind, You stitch your mouth closed. When they tell you to act with insight, You attack the unknown. When they tell you to prepare to fight, You crawl into a hole. Every step you take, is one they cannot control.

The steady flow of a summer stream, Can carry you through the toughest of dreams. A caring smile from a warm stranger, Can frost over a hellfire’s anger. The sweetest of smells from a mother’s pie, Can bring upon the faintest of memories, You thought had died.

Steam curls around your nostrils. The scent of hazelnut embraces your senses. Warmth surrounds your fragile aura. Cold ice crystals about your feet. The mug, near empty, you crave more of, The liquid courage, filled with everything sweet. What is life? What is death? When all that surrounds your senses, Is beautiful, magnificent, coffee.

Do you ever feel like when your writing a story, it’s like different levels of it unlock at different times in your mind? Anything can unlock the levels at any time. As if you get bits and pieces of the world you want to create, and you have to piece them together outside of your mind. A puzzle only you know the picture of?

He gazed into the sapphire jewels embedded into her sockets. They shone with a glint, and he wanted them in his pocket. He was swift in his course of action, and she knew exactly then, what he wanted. As soon as his amble fingers swiped her cheeks, she’d decided to haunt him. A chaste kiss upon his lips, and a simple wave goodbye. She’d left only one question tumbling through his mind: “Why?”

Linger in the forest, just a moment longer. Stare into her abyss, the darkness grows fonder. Fear is inevitable, emerging stronger. Words do not speak, when it clutches at your throat. The ink will spill, and erase what you have wrote. A tear or two, that’s all you may do, When the forest has got you, In the palm of her roots.

Clouds of misty emotions circle through the night. They blanket your sky with a chilling sight. The darkest of them hide you from the moon’s light. The sweetest of them sprinkle you with glittery dust from a star’s shine. Smiles and crinkled brows erupt from the thoughts they rain. Mixing and mingling euphoria and pain. Remind yourself when the sun rises again, That all those clouds just want to be your friend.

Why do I flourish in the deepest pain? Why have I never accepted that there was nothing to gain? Knives penetrate the shallow wounds. I revel in what they have the potential to do. Eggshells of a robin, become the size of a boulder. Stepping on them, cracking them under my brittle feet. I glance over my shoulder. A sinister smile lays upon my ashen face. The agony I feel, the constant ache, beckons me to stay. For with the devil, there is no better place. For with you, I say, “Come what may.”

Silk as smooth as the summer air, Wind that curls around feathery hair Too much bliss for hatred’s ignorance, She frolics through, not one bit hesitant For no one will ever truly know, Her anxiety, her fears, her deepest sins, Are wrapped tightly, in a neat little bow.

Cruel words sink deeper than soft whispers. They catch your veins with their barbed wire. Sinister smiles slice through, more so than caring eyes. One lone feeling can suffocate you, more so than a compliment will placate you. Where the harsh words even true? No, they were spoken before they knew you. Why ignore the deepest love? It can sew the dripping wounds…if you allow it to. Crane your neck, extend your shattered faith, to the one emotion that can keep you safe.

I gaze into my bleeding soul for just a moment. It screams at me, tearing at the wound, begging me to hold it. “Embrace the shattered remains, and it will splinter into your skin.” A warning. Let it encompass me, let the dark words and it’s harsh breath…let it win.

Breathe. Just breathe. Relax. Give it some time to brew. One more day, you’ll be brand new. Hope you don’t ponder it for too long. Because no matter how it’s spun you’ll be in the wrong. Smile. Just smile. Relax. Give it a rest. They’ll tell you it’s for the best. Not because you’ve broke, or cried, or closed off. Because the moment you speak, they’ll drown you in a scoff. Scream. Just fucking scream. Give it your all. One more day, means one more…one more will fall. Make them hear your call

Clouds form shapes, and hang in the sky to just be. They whisper to each other, “What do they see when they look at me?” How could one mound of fluff be just under a million things? To a child, a puppy. To an adult, a rabid being. Possibilities become endless when the human eyes gaze. Though when society crumbles, and is set in inevitable flames, The clouds will then wonder, “Would we have been the same?” “Maybe, but look at the moon. It was a wonderful day.”

Tendrils of golden locks fan about a feathered pillow. Emerald eyes imagine a world of blistering color. What an anomaly. The sky a heavenly blue, the sun, a warm yellow. She wonders when the colors faded. Where the memories she made, she evaded. Time had never been so wobbly. She’d never given much thought to its chronology. Yet, now as she rests, she ponders a guess. Was it the first time she’d experienced distress? No, she’d barely turned ten. It was the first time she’d ever felt hopeless.

Gravitate to what is known Speak only of what is shown For what is stowed within the dark Shall never escape the barriers Of a concrete heart A chisel and hammer may chip away What deepest desires are kept at bay Though caution echoes in your brain Brewing emotions will cause you to stay The quickest end to what lies in wait? Take the tempting, delectable bait

Caress me in the dead of night Hold me in the seductive moonlight Feather kisses down my spine Ignite in me the deepest pleasure, And tangle yourself within my vines All is blissful, all is good, all is forever well Give, take, breath in this beautiful treasure Until the sunlight’s emergence becomes a bitter hell

A phone rings, you hurry over, and answer on the third Out the window, sits a small blue bird It’s wings are spread, you gaze in awe Bubbly laughter disrupts your call Two small children, in the front-room Playing, smiling, try not to hover “Hello, is this ‘so and so’s’ mother?” “Yes, it’s she. Who is this?” “The chief of the Fire Department.” “Oh, yes, how is he?” “I’m afraid you won’t see him this evening.” “What do you mean.” “Ma’am, it’s best if you arrive at your earliest convenience.”

Air as fresh as ice is cold Grass as soft as anger is bold One small victory amidst defeat Can feel like a championship player Who’s won their ring Yet, you must heed the call from former foes For your biggest fears, were their greatest woes One small twist, from a blindsiding knife Could cost much more, Than a cherished life

The melting pot of emotions inside Of me, boil, and boil, and boil, Until I bleed The crimson soaks what’s nearest, to me. It stains and stains, and stains, Until all that’s left is pain The coming day, the memory fades And the pot is served to my remains

Made with love Made from scratch Made from chickens Made from a can Either way, I know the truth My love for you, does not top soup

A sunny hike through the trees, An alluring scent fills the air, Then a comforting breeze. All is well, the clouds are present. You’ve drunk the wind of the day What else is there to say? The door opens, welcome home. Lunch time. YouTube, history of the catacombs. A normal day, what a shame…What? Why are you so confused? Is this normal? Why is it so uncomfortable? Panic. It was once…all you knew.

When one dreams of love, they see it in their mind. Clear as day, like a picture in a fragile frame A sun on a cloudless day, timeless in face of time. Painters, they paint it, writers they write it. You can see it, paint it, write it, but to feel it? Feeling it, the raw pain, the elation of one’s heart? Needs no description, just presence

I try, and I try, day in and day out, To be a better person, to erase your doubt There’s nothing I wouldn’t have done, Nothing I would refuse, for what I thought Was the one A perfect image, one of a little doll In your mind was all you wanted From me So in turn, from me, you’ll receive An all too familiar apology I’m sorry for the pain that you’ve caused yourself In assuming that all was well Because while I played the part For your fragile ego I’m sorry to only my shattered heart.

Shouts echo throughout the halls Glass, splintered and wedged in walls How many times do they cry for you? How many times have their shrinking souls Flown from the room? Forget. A relationship failed, mirrors their own How many times he was there, But you were alone? How many times did he remind you Of… Forget Third time’s the charm, here’s to loving The touches, the whispers, Their gentle tone’s so unsettling Why do you feel suffocated, in a room so pure? How does one truly heal? Remember

One, the first of many Two, the one that brings memory Three, a challenge, a demand, a group Four, the confidence of one has grown Five, the times I’ve cried for you Six, the center of the clock, it tics Seven, a lucky time to be shown Eight, Nine, Ten, How many emotions at once can you brew?

Quiet eyes wander far, Lean in close, you’ll not hear Silent mouths wage a war Furrowed brows tell all, Back away, you’ll need not confront Questions will make them small Lips locked up tight, waiting, You’ll be gone by now The scream, yearns to be heard

Chartreuse eyes greet me in the morning My whole world, all in one One large stretch, and the first is done Waking Hunger grows fond of emotions turmoiling Cries swallow me whole, anxiety sets in The pan on the stove, the second commences Making When the moon’s glow in the sky’s gleaming There’s one thing that seems to be constant The love, the labor, all that’s left of me Taken