Burning water
scars your skin.
Arched back, slipping
on the cold marble.
Trapped
like an animal, trying to

fly away.
A spark, a golden haze, a rainbow
as light meets water
Your prison
a glowing chrysalis.
The rush of

inspiration.
Flies fast
up, out of reach
It's wings
a vibrant orange
Rare and beautiful
It is

lost to you.
Slipping into darkness
The maze of the mind
A vast forest
Full of life, full of
dead ends.

You may catch a glimpse
of orange
through the mist.
Like a beggar, reach up with
grasping hands, desperate, feel
its touch, it burns
your frail fingers, and you
fall

into darkness
Blind as a beggar
Empty and cold, you wait
for the rush to return
the rush of wings
vibrant orange
rare and beautiful
butterfly.

Valleys cut deep
across the pale planes
and shimmering sand
A lamb is
lost, drifting over the dunes
A marigold petal floats to the ground
wilting in the smouldering wind

"Sacrifice" they whisper,
As a blistering blade
Dances across
your skin.

Look
over your shoulder, again.
Hear
whispers slice through the darkness
Frantic footfall
A muffled scream
It's
Behind you.

Waning willows
lean into the wind
ominous warnings
echo, around...
the back of your head
A pair of
Eyes
fixed there, too
Behind you.

A howling tempest
buffets your body
raincoat billowing
behind you
as you run.
Hear

nothing.
Silence swept
across the ashes
You stand
at a crossroad
Limitless lines
to follow...

But you
retain your route
through the darkness
through the cold

Torrents of trees
tower over you
Ingrained into the bark
a skull
Rustling leaves
whispering willows
Each,
        step,
               you,
                     turn to look.
And tremble.
It's behind you

Sprinting through sickle
You stumble and fall
into a clearing
Pathways all around
like arteries

But you
don't see them
can't, or won't
Keep
       limping
                   forward

A dark silhouette
Blocks the path
Look
over your shoulder
for another way
Too late
Shrouded in night,
the shadows crawl
towards you
Hear...

footsteps
Behind you.

Raindrops on your pillow.
The steady
pitter patter.
No cats or dogs
Thunder, lightning
Storm clouds.
In fact
the room shines like the Cross.
Radiant, warm
And yet
darkness still leaks through the floorboards
like water.

Red raindrops
On the carpet,
In the sink
Soak into the paper
like ink left to drown.
Not fiery red, anger has
drained away. Little left.
But rose red, sense of sadness.
It's silent.

Does water hit your screen?
Fizzle, and burn?
Shallow water,
like the feeling of loneliness,
the emptiness of guilt.
Are your tears real?
Or fake, forced
Dry and shallow
A mirage, eyes open
Seeking attention, love?
Likes on Instagram.

Their tears hit my pillow
Lying in the dark, alone
but for One.

Not sitting with friends
forcing them to come
Eyes dry as the desert.

Not editing an essay
Perfectly constructed
Posted to your followers.

But the dead feeling, it's inside
Only you can see it, touch it
It's silent. Lonely. Shallow.
Like water.