An empty house
quiet with the whispered shadows of the past
of memories twisting, jumping, laughing, and screaming in the dark.

Alone.

These loud vacancies in time,
that split and shift as though time had never frozen.
Where ghosts of feelings and happenings forget
that they have past.

Disappeared.

Underneath a thick layer of grime and dust,
unmarked for years to come, and years to pass.

Silence.

The overwhelming loneliness of a time,
a space,
a treasure trove of memories,
lost through abandonment and growing up.

Disturbed.

Briefly, quietly, by soft footsteps hiding in the dark;
taking refuge in the peace that comes with being surrounded
by those just like one’s self.
Where muffled tears may go unnoticed,
and quaking shoulders embraced by a sad feeling of nostalgia.

Sleep.

Falling gently sideways while curled up tightly,
hiding from the world a perceived weakness;
slowly,
gradually,
unwinding in a tear-stained weariness brought
upon by the harshness of our species.

Reluctance.

Stirring awake only to realize the inevitability
of going back into that cruel reality,
and wandering through the dust with a slow
shuffle,
avoiding it to the end.

Reality.

Is merely pretending to be alright,
to be perfect,
sane,
unaffected by one’s past or circumstance.
Lying to yourself until the very last moment,
but by then it’s too late.

Death.

What comes to claim us all,
no matter what we wish or who we are.
The only way to be truly free.

End.

Merely the beginning of a new story.

My demons
Follow me
Break me down
Until I'm nothing

They don't rest
And I can't hide
I've grown tired of
Running for my life

It's easier to let them in
To let all of my suffering
Seem to end

But I don't like it,
These words they say
I don't ever want
To play these games

Splintered shields and cracking swords lay all around me on these burning hills.
I stand alone, the last of my kind.

  Here I stand my wings dripping red, lifeblood staining my sword and my shield but also dripping from your head.
  A Valkyrie, an angel of Death
I hover over your waning Life waiting with baited breath.
  The fields once green,
now stained with your brothers and sisters now fallen,
blackened with blood and ash and flesh, of friend and foe alike.
    The last one left waiting to enter my halls,
you fought you won you gave it your all.
    Little Warrior, little ***** if I summon,
will you finally answer my call?

As you finally lay down your head,
I shall sing you the Valkyrie's lullaby of final rest.
Brave little warrior,
I shall sing you the lullaby of Death.

The river's current starts slow,
chilled streams trickling,
toes shifting, in the dark blue-gray;
almost unpleasant to the touch.

As she wades, the pull becomes stronger;
ice cold, it entraps her chest.

Slwoosh fwssh, she winces as the wind picks up,
and her mind goes still; resilient.

Drifting, her body gives way,
fwuomp, pssshhh.
Almost lifeless do her eyes wash,
away into the water's murk.

Like a ship stranded at sea,
her body struggles to withstand,
water filling her lungs like the hull;
her cheeks pale and wet.

Gasps break the water,
sending ripples as wide as her eyes,
and the tormenting storm laughs;

Each time it moves, grabs, without asking, takes without giving,
and she floats.

There is a cemetery in your heart worth minding,
Where the bones of your lovers are always grinding,
The path in is simple; escape long and winding,
Love is so rarely mutually binding.

Dig me a grave there, keep me bound.
Hold me by the hair, through your fingers wound,
As you push me harder into the ground,
Till I am buried within you, my funeral mound.

You don't want my pain
You have enough...

How morbid must you be, he says.


-- Eleanor

At age 5 she was starting to thrive
At age 6 she just wanted to play
At age 7 she wanted to be a doctor
At age 8 all the other kids mocked her
At age 9 she locked herself away
At age 10 she was there to stay
At age 11 she tore her skin
At age 12 all her emotions were caving in
At age 13 she was doing *******
At age 14 she was low everyday
At age 15 she tied the rope
and later on that night wrote this note:
"Thinking about this night, thought everything over twice. I can feel it getting the best of me, once again its trying to invent me... and so it has. Goodbye."
Shaking hands and swollen eyes, she kicked the chair.
As she dangled in the air, she didn't even think about the rest, and took her final breath.

Living on this planet
Is causing growing animosity
For I do not fear death
It's more like a curiosity
Transcending this dimension
As my energy is released
Ending this ostracism
And anguish will be ceased
I do not wish to die, you see
But thoughts linger in my head
What's the point of being here
When all I feel is dread?