md-toase
I was born on April the 4th, i was diagnosed with mild autism when i was 2, i have greatest fears, the dark, big dogs, and things thrown at me like footballs or basketballs, i love movies directed by Tim Burton, i love horror movies made by hammer horror or by Alfred Hitchcock, my favorite writers are Edgar Allen Poe, Bram Stoker
Death is all powerful and as old as God.
He can destroy whats around him, he can even reap a dog.
If you see him you will soon perish.
Therefore life must you Cherish.
He can **** anything: Gods, Angels, Demons and Reapers.
This is no ordinary killer this is the Grim Reaper.
He assists in maintaining the natural order.
His Reapers are nothing but a Boarder.
He has a scythe, and a sharp sickle that he carries around with him.
He can **** to relieve, out of pity or out of whim.
He delivers souls to their final destination.
(When he sees a being suffering)
All he thinks about is his Termination.
Anything the Reaper touches, dies.
You cannot outsmart him, try not to be wise.
The Grim Reaper is one of the four Horsemen, he rides a pale horse.
If you see him coming, he will have no remorse.
Dec 2, 2014
Dec 2, 2014 at 10:06 AM UTC
Goodbye Tooth Fairy
Goodbye Easter Bunny
Goodbye Santa Claus
Goodbye childhood
Hello Boogeyman
Sep 8, 2014
Sep 8, 2014 at 11:30 AM UTC
He is only visible to me.
Projecting himself through
my eyes, a stain on my retina,
he is forever here.
Conjured up by a child’s mind,
native, inescapable fears,
he has grown with me.
Bigger, taller, stronger.
Hidden in the deepest shadows,
eyes bright, haunting me.
Chilly arms engulf me,
crushing my lungs and I can’t
breathe and my heart
races and I can’t
do a thing.
Egging me on,
You can do it, you need to do it.
He knows I will.
He knows I must, but
I don’t want to.
I pull back, clawing
at his hands
Let me go!
The tips of his fingers burn into my back,
perfect little circles swirling
with lines that lead me down
towards the place I
dread most.
I see the looming door.
Simple, wooden, warped with age,
swinging, squealing on its hinges.
I wonder how many secrets
it has witnessed and heard over the years.
Passed from one eardrum to another.
Making hearts thud at the anticipation.
The door to my demise.
All else falls away.
What can I do now but take
another step forward?
Sep 8, 2014
Sep 8, 2014 at 11:30 AM UTC
Click. Click. Click.
Up down, up down, up down.
On, off. On, off. On, off.
Florescent flicker. Light to dark.
Do I really want to see that face in the mirror?
Not tonight.
Click. Down. Off.
Black.
Slumped down on the floor.
There's an icy breeze through the window.
But my face is hot. Burning.
The hair on my arms is up. Attentive.
Seems they're the only ones.
Keep a hushed voice.
It feels like a whisper could wake the world.
It's shaken mine before. A second time wouldn't be surprising.
Black ink on my face. Track marks, so to speak.
Every breath is a catalyst for the next wave.
If I breathe to calm myself, it acts defiantly, and I cry harder.
There's an earthquake in my body. Shaking, trembling.
It rattles my heart.
If it's quiet, it's like it never happened.
Pull the blanket over me. A towel, actually, but it'll do.
It's like I've taken ten years away, stepped back into size four shoes.
I'm hiding under my covers.
In the black.
In the silence.
One, two, three...
Watch out for Mr. Boogeyman.
See, how it works is, if I can't see him, he can't see me.
If you never see me cry, I'm never sad.
If you never see me hurt, I'm never in pain.
Click. Up. On.
Light.
Open your eyes and look in the mirror.
Hello
Mr. Boogeyman.
Click.
Sep 8, 2014
Sep 8, 2014 at 11:29 AM UTC
they say
when we grow up
our demons
will fade away
but how come
as I grow up
all the monsters
and the scary bits
are becoming bigger
and as malicious as ever
how come
as I grow up
the devils find comfort
in the piteous chaos
that is my life
how come
the boogeyman
created a nook
under my pillow
and continues to stay
for as long as he wants
he tells me
there is no use
being afraid of the dark
for he will still be with me
even in the light
Sep 8, 2014
Sep 8, 2014 at 11:29 AM UTC
The boogeyman sleeps on your side of the bed,
whispers in my ear "you're better off dead."
He fills my dreams with sirens and lights of regret,
and kisses me gently when I wake up in sweat.
You crossed the water, left me ashore,
it killed me enough but you wanted more.
You blew up the bridge, a mad terrorist waved from your side.
You threw me a kiss.
I tried to follow, but realized too late,
there was nothing but air beneath my feet.
Finally I felt beat.
First you inspected me,
then dissected me,
at last you rejected me.
I wait for the day that you will resurrect me.
Sep 8, 2014
Sep 8, 2014 at 11:28 AM UTC
The boogeyman has a name
Indeed, he's real!
They call him Lust.
A haunting, I always feel.
Sep 8, 2014
Sep 8, 2014 at 11:27 AM UTC