The
Blood dries.
      And flakes away.
            Your
Flesh; once pink.
      -Now turns grey.

I'm laying here in the red.
      Playing back
those words you said.
          
Your hair turned White.
       -Lips so blue.
Now tell me what's a boy to do?

               I guess
    I'll bury you beneath
the garden
     Where the soils'
         Sure not to harden.

     I can dig you up
  after spring.
-And thank you for
the food you bring.

You've done more in death,
       than you did in life.
So I think  I'll keep you
          -undead wife.

The asylum has stood for hundreds of years, a testement to the old worlds constructors. Now her precious orniments have all been stripped from these rotting walls. Everything non-structural has been lost. What has become of my home
My family tossed to the wind.
Like
        so
    many
  l
    e
     a
       v
        e
         s.
I walk these halls for the last time today.
I was once its protector, now these lonley corridors invite an enemy I once eradicated- back into our world.
An enemy to which today,
I have no defense.
My own dark soul.
Today I go to my death,
I greet it with a smile. This is all my fault.
It started with me,
today It ends with me.
                                            
I will always be here. Even when I am not
                                               - Mike Sikes

Trails of braided light
run down my trembling body, carrying the dried blood off of my face like a river carries loose stones down stream. A faint metallic scent rises through the steamy air.
No amount of soap and water will wash the memory away...
I nearly took that girls head off.
If it wasn't for Jack,
I would have turned
everyone in that cafe.
Such a mess.
Thankfully, Jack knows his way around cameras.
Witnesses too.
I don't ask - but sometimes I wonder, which one of us is the real monster.

Seamus was a man,
who for heavens sake
-was good with his sword arm.
But a bit of a rake.

As famous in battle as he was, he was more known instead
-for fervent virility,
and a creaky worn bed.
Yet, I'll never forget this phrase  he once said.

"You know my good lad,
I've always thought funny
-the wars men will wage for
a warm supple *****."

Darkness dances around me. Finding every ***** in my armor. My vision blurred, I feel my brain swell inside my skull. Threatening to break free.
Crashing blows land one after another.
My mouth fills with my lifeblood.
So metallic in taste.
I cannot speak for fear of bringing more pain and shame upon my weakened frame. Hard to breathe I feel my ribs displaced. This shadow figure is Unrelenting... These primal urges inside of me are screaming "defend your self fool"
I ignore them...
Not the voices I want to hear.
I believe I deserve
every fowl blow I receive.
I deserve this...
Crushing... Smashing... Longing.
I've lost my friends. No one to protect me.
    
        Punching... Kicking... Longing.

Who is this beast. Tormenting me. Knocking me down to his level.

Tearing down my tower,

Draining my sea,

burning my forest.

                    I have no hope.
                I am broken.
           Trapped in my own hell.
      Is this lucifer The great deciver?



In that moment the beating stops...
              Pain is still fresh but,
the figure ceases his assault..
          Panting... Wheezing... Longing...
Within shadow I see a broken grin...
    Darkness fades
and a familiar face greets me.
Eyes locked to what's left of my soul.
               It
               is
              me.
        - It always was.
This demon is and always will be
a part of me.
       Whether or
not the voices return.
I have to start from the
                                        b
                                      o
                                        t
                                       t
                                           o
                                             m
                                           again.
But I think that's okay.
          I think I have always been there.
                  - Even when I am not.

Have I devoured all that is me?
   Am I alone... lost...
       wandering these halls?
W
       h
   e
     r
     e
   are my friends,
my voices,
stand silent...  
Were they ever there...?  
                   Stomach
                     w
                        r
                      e
                     n
                       c
                      h
                     i
                      n
                     g.
Hunger...  Unrelenting hunger... It seems that too much life and time has passed between us.
                Now, I sit in shadows,
       waiting for my voices to return.
Lurking... Rotting... Longing.
What have I done.
Why have my voices  forsaken me?

Where is the tower that once stood proud?  
     Where is the sea that once raged in my soul.
Mighty trees in my forest; roots once ran so deep.
              Now termites feast upon them.
My body,
now a hollowed stump.
     I feel I will always be here...  
                       Even when  
                      no one else is.

Diaries of the red door asylum

I stay in the shadows,
     but not for my protection...
lurking.... Hunting..... Longing.
        I relive my first day here.
I cant even remember
-my life before this...
Hurting.... Torturing.....  Longing.
I believe I have always been here.
E
  V
      E
     N
              When I'm not...
Creeping.... Crawling..... Longing.
These voices call to me.
T
   H
       E
      Y
Are me...  I know it,
                   even if they don't.

My brain is squirming in my skull.
No room left.
These voices must be heard.
They
M
   U
  S
T
        Be silenced.
I believe I have always been here.
          Even when I am not.
   Because.
My heart lies behind the red door.
                                                                                                       And the truth liesinred