Walk away and never turn back the notes when I say their ink are but colours of unseen before mine eyes can eat the words with tearing face. Imagine his kneeling before the drum of the sun beating then all come mute when no sound can utter the ache that trembles. He had to become evil. He had to leave everyone. He suddenly never appeared to himself so good as to God forsake. He read a letter from himself when he slowly transformed into the darkness and wanton sought his id to bigger fright in meagre sounds he makes: weeping. It’s just that he can’t weep; he used up all his tears. Read More
As still as light he slept so sound, within his skin lay creases rough. His hair finely cropped soon shoot leaves forth. His demon was human. His beginning was nigh. In a cage he slept, in noiseless feud in utter silence kept, may never once again breathe his last; it was never begun as all his dreams turn to ash. Whilst I walked through room and room, in mazes gone and darkness brought, mine eyes beheld my brother in utter sleep diminishing from what I once knew into a figure within the cage wherein he slept. So soon I recall he began to shrink and with time erased so soon, so fervent can last his eyes to never open again lest cries adorn shall forsake our dearest mandrake beheld. Read More
A cool summer’s eve drew sun in evening glory. At a distant fold knew better light where breeze and sound combined would mute the nature between them. Within that nature, with sounds of walking footsteps through trail of wood and mud, there was I and a friend going through it all. Recounting the steps to this unknown part I could not call home nor haven. It was but a guest in nature’s woods. Watching through the glistening water from premature rain to cover the leaves with tears that drooping their eaves cast light into our eyes. These shady leaves in number grew had only our shadow they knew; more they found our steps to folly they surround us. Where one of us would attempt a log to pass through, another would walk around. I was the former. Read More
At some point I decided to enter a spherical room covered in a single mirror. At the epicentre of the sphere at the bottom was a single light in circular shape. It illumined through a translucent glass which neither blinded nor shaped the way I feel at the very sight of my own reflection. I was imprisoned here. It was now my home. So it was, and so my ugly face was to blame; for my soul was trapped inside this feeble figure which I call a body which served no purpose whatsoever. Nor could I wed. Nor could I love. Nor could I hate. Nor could I live. I wanted to die. I wanted to suddenly disappear. An hour would pass and I almost forgot how I entered this room or why I entered it in the first place. It was almost like an escape pod onboard a ship, in a distant star system; in this space, in this hour, half my life was kept, half my life shall rise again – so rise above the stars. The more I distance myself away from society, the more human I am; the more time I spend in the stars, the more I see myself for what I truly am. Read More
In a sea of words is there no greater storm than deception. The art of making is for fertile cause; to imbue words so more words grow aloud. The pacemaker of a sentence is the sum of all words plus the thought and feel made to cause it. James thought this once, he thought “how could I, a human lost, so lost I could not hear myself but dare find the words to tell myself how I feel?” This much he thought, and he drank and smoked weed to all the kings glory. This glory raised. This glory lost. A caterpillar could do better. I saw him last week. He was a bit frail, but oh well; it seemed he wanted to be alone. I thought he was just intimate with his shadow. A kind shadow, who wanted to become more than just a shadow. Indeed, the butterfly always existed with that caterpillar; it just hasn’t morphed into one yet. Conversely, a man is just two parts of one soul. One soul believes in God; the other is the God himself. Read More
Punting through the lake neath a memory vacant for some time, then she said it was just a memory, one so lost it could never remain. The years that grow became more this mind more eroded. Through each wave of water to seize the rock that buried itself under the sun and moon thus came little to smaller view in the tiniest element under the mountain.
Then she taught herself the beginning of a swim from one lake to the other, only she had to walk through day and night. Let dawn and dusk be the temperance of good thought, and the worst of it all shall be swept away with all cares aloud in the honest companion of her love and dearest thought to those in kind.