The daughter of a sea nymph,
with shipwrecks in her eyes,
sea monsters flood the depths of her heart.
The abundance of black and dark blue in the sky parted for only one second.
Only enough to see for the last time before she submerged into the depths of the barren water,
and with hurricanes in her eyes.
She witnessed the day everything ceased to exist.
In that moment everything was calm.
Pure serenity washes over the land as the storm clouds receded,
and for the first time the isle was covered in a symphony of silence.

Someday I want to be the only boy living in New York.
the skyscrapers will be my protectors, and the taxis, my companions.
I was given so much potential to be something I am not.
I am lost at sea floating adrift on a raft, and when I let go it will all be over.
My mind is spinning with a circus of emotions.
One day I will be wiser than the tallest tree.
As of now i am a figment in a world of horror, a spec in a scene of destruction.
I feel as if I am a bystander in my own body, I watch as good and bad things happen to me.
I feel nothing.
My life is extraordinarily prolonged, and there is nothing I can do about it.
There is a war in my mind.
I watch as people are brainwashed by the glow of their luminescent phone screens.
The world we know is falling apart, and I feel as if I am the only one to notice this.
No one truly cares about anything or anyone.

Longing to travel towards the festering sun.
I was a brown eyed girl living in a mediocre world.
With sweet seeds in my hands I walked towards the end of the earth.
I dangled my feet over the edge and threw them into the wind,
until pomegranate gardens grew for him.

and she loved him, in the way that Icarus loved the sun; entirely too much

utterly turned around
into the path of oncoming oblivion
the lights now burning her soul
no one cares about the wait
screams of terror rain
breathing out words that come from her mouth
breathing in things that will never begin
feeling lungs collapse
of the things that are trapped
inside of her

In the garden of heather a vast abundance of foliage covers forsaken grounds.
Changing from white to pink, shades of purple, and red,
to distinguish winter from spring.

Light seeps through the trees absorbing the ground below it.
Moss gathers and transudes through the cracks
of the dated archaic stone.

In the garden of heathers the silence is unheard.
The flowers are wilted and the candles have burned,
because a pretty face doesn't matter when your deceased.

the ecstasy
the overwhelming desire to feel
consumed her
deranged
her anterior was buried under her skin
Charlotte
her destruction was the scene of the night
entangled
within herself
reality and fake became one
the ecstasy