The first whispers of the morning are sweetest when shared with you.

The Earth went silent,
                                       it was the aftermath of the End;
the crooked shadows crept between all spaces,
                                                         ­                         then the Cloudfolks returned.
They stood still watching at us,
                                                      it was during an August eclipse.
"Pitiful are the sleepers who don't dream." Spited to me one of them.
                                                           ­                                                        So s/he took my hands and gave me a sphere,
s/he told me:
                      "You shall not swear your life in vacuity."
And so I knew it was time,
                                               it was time of tempests, and beautiful extinctions,
it was a time of grief and sharp pain.
                                                           ­      Their eyes were black as void,
those fuzzy white cloaks were cold, and those hands...
                                                        ­                                        And before I could even awake, one sitted in my bed and whispered gently to my ear:
"Embrace the Omega."
                                        And so I did.

Sweet beautiful machine behind the woods,
chuckle with tears and carries a barren womb,
"Do you regret the Unlife?". I shouted.
And a soft voice whispered "No".

I have not seen the crows singing to the corn,
I believe in nothing, and nothing at all,
"Do you fear the sky?". I thought.
And a soft voice whispered "No".

Your harmony pleases the pace of the trees,
I have forseen all of this inside of a dream,
"Are you even trying to see me?". I asked.
And a soft voice whispered "No".

Spreading those legs of yours around my neck,
I kiss the cave of wonders as if were a threat,
"Is everything fine, my love?". I licked.
And a soft voice whispered "No".

I am in love with people who are raw,

who aren’t afraid to show their colors

even if those colors are watered down

and the paint that covers their heart

has been chipped away at by ghosts of the past

who sneak into bedrooms at night

and whisper into lonesome ears,

“i am the one you thought you’d gotten rid of

and I am the reason you long for a past 

you wish had never happened to begin with”

The sound of rain like whispers in my ears,
The soft sweet sound of the pitter-patter.
Although it may be silence that I hear,
I find that it truly does not matter.
Like a million lights of an endless dream.
The past I see was only meant to be,
Washed away by rain, revealing a seam.
An abyss that was only meant for me.

But I will not stare at this endless rain.
Nor will I find the thing for which I came.
This endless dream I may never attain,
For this my life, will never be the same.
It is here now that I see the past.
Like whispers of rain that may never last.

the voices whisper

they call out to me

They scream

They laugh at me



Should I listen?

Should I care?



The screaming won't stop

I can't tell the difference

between the screaming in my head

and my own



Stop it, stop!

I can't ignore them anymore



For the voices whisper

They call out to me

They scream

They laugh at me



I can't ignore them anymore

No, don't pity me

They are right

and this is my goodbye

I found myself alone
No sound of soul to touch
I only hear whispers

Whispers passed by my ear
Bone chilled to the core
Like finger nails against the chalkboard

Erase what I can not see
But leave my soul
For I am scared

SHE:

" wind,  oh sweet and flowing wind
hear my heart that begs for thy love to hear
dearest letters that was kept for years.
I trust thee to send it warm and clear. . ."

HE:

" Swiftly whistling, warmly whispering
does the wind flew through my ear
hearing my love sending thy notes
that carried warm feelings that is ever so dear. . ."