There once was a small girl, who sat alone amongst the whispering trees while often pretending she could hear their long forgotten and secretive language
But in truth, she was born with the gift to hear those without a voice, but she continuously remained within the confinement of the mindset "pretend"
They uttered in soft and silken voices, articulated to described to her several things, fastidiously horrible things, things she should have never known given her young years
Those voices, aged and forgotten reached out within her mind and told her the secrets of the universe, told her the sadness, happiness, love and loss, so much it gave that the torrent of emotions was never ending, a continuous tumor within her mind, taking control, as it began to teach her things, but poisoning her mind alongside
In a vapid smoke, they curled around her ears sealing off all forms of escape of their prowess like prey, so they whispered to her the death of her father; how he would soon become swiftly forgotten over a drought of infestation of warlike trials against his demeanor towards life
They Gave her an irrational and incomparable numbing fear
Skittering, they flashed across her eyes, blinding her to compatible thought and knowledge; so they hinted to her the life of a killer; his "nostalgic" and wanton thoughts of lust created from river running blood, the craved lust for the hunt, the predator aspect thriving deep within his veins
They Gave her blood curdling cruelness and desires yet unattainable
Swirling around her mouth they delved deep into her soul, crawling their way down her esophagus like an unwanted virus, spreading; so they told the tale of the one who would claim her soul; how it would be wrenched from within her body and shattered into pure black energy, as she would be used to raise the demons that would penetrate blackness into her thoughts
They Gave her odium and malice
Naturally, she began to grow frightened, abhorrence chilling her movements and as if settling deep into the pits of Tartarus that remained crouching against her diaphragm
stalling her breaths, deprecating her mind of the wanted oxygen, suffocating she stilled
As the ever chilling voices of those trees with their cracking and musty but enthralling voices called to her, bidding her closer into their knowledge and influence, drawing her in
still they forcefully arrived and went, blinding her with their furious powers, battering her mind like a silken lily standing frightened and alone on the top of a lone hill against the forces of a hurricane
Listlessly she listened to the softening crescendo of her lost life within falling and false pretenses, lost
Although she continued pretending she knew the meaning to life within the circus of life in the alternate universes in which she saw within her blinded eyes;
She learned to hate, to become cruel and twisted, with dark thoughts blotting out the sun from penetrating,
creating a briar patch of jagged thorns that built a wall against opposition and reality, for reality was just an illusion now
For the giving tree always gave too much
Jun 17, 2014
Jun 17, 2014 at 6:26 PM UTC
Cherry lips ripe for the taking with a pomegranate cracked hue just to the left corner
Spiced vanilla into twisted locks of dry abstinence in which filled a lusterless waterfall
Crystal and star dust weaved into the midnight ink of dead eyes
Slick satin clinging onto deadened skin, to bring out the warm glows that used to hue the soft skin
Red oak coffin barely containing the life force that once lived in vibrant life, only now been dulled
This thing, a person, the one I used too know, now a painted mask of lies and deceit
Quietly glares back at me as I close the lid to the coffin, pulling back upon rocking heels
As if I am the creator of this "disease"; conforming it to her form, breathing in her soul and life, the soul devourer, if you must
Can one so minute as myself truly have become the cause of this abominable misdeed? Yet, should I feel no remorse as tumult plays me like a startled violin?
A thousand dusty eyes watch me in pairs, two by two they came and went
Observing me kneel beside her raised pedestal, with tear glimmering eyes as mine remain an arid desert
The final riddle in which I cannot fathom, the spinning web catching me in its snare
The deer in the headlights, a fish in the proud eagles grasp, gasping for air
Disoriented turbulence on the inside, with naught a blink to show
Where did the time go, as I sit in tolerated silence, plagues me like shadows
Silence is not intolerable, but mostly, magnificently and implacably trying
May 13, 2014
May 13, 2014 at 9:46 AM UTC
Your childish lies have nothing of a true meaning
because you never saw what truly went on inside my mind.
The cogs were turning, but the wheels got stuck in the muck
that you had left behind when you decided that it was time to bid me adieu.
That child inside me broke
Like the Bay Lake dam that came crashing and tumbling down,
the waters swirling into the ever after.
Leaving me behind, alone, with the lonely company of the silt and the sand.
And then, I wept.
Feb 10, 2014
Feb 10, 2014 at 3:02 PM UTC