Lament from the Lake

When you signed your soul away, you signed mine away with it.

I am tethered: left totally and utterly alone with no relief and no way of knowing if my bonds are to snap or hold. 

It's agony and hatred, black, ugly hatred, and regret, and pointless pleading with no answer. It's writhing and twisting without relief. Injecting pure alcohol into my spine would do nothing at all to ease my suffering. 

I used to think I could only cry for so long before I had no more tears left to cry. 

There lies a wellspring in the corner of my sockets that bubbles and brings forth fresh dew with each and every passing reminder of the grief I wish not to know. Oh, how I would rather cease to exist than endure this boiling tar, this broken, confused, hopeless dream. My hands are too weak even to end my own suffering. 

So I continue to writhe and hate until the fourth year is through, or until some unfortunate thing should happen upon me. 

Would you dip your finger in a bit of water? My lips are so parched. You don't hear a word. You're too far away. 

Stubborn Stones

Two stones sit upon a still plateau, both wishing the other would relent 

Neither wiling to move without the action of the second.

The wind and the rain smooth the corners, dull the sides 

Until a bird glides in and, seeing the opportunity,

Scoops up the one for its own nest.

The other vainly contests.

Ruminating on Indecision

Icy eyes and frosty glares

Frozen hallways, snowy stairs.

Jagged, pointed, woeful spears

Doors chained up, sealed away from the world.

Empty ballroom, deadly breeze,

Last light spurned and scorned with ease.

Cold nights and days alike do blend 

like wine and water, dearest friends.

A thousand seconds to a thousand days.

A thousand years is again not strange

to me. I watch it sit on the floor and stare, 

pondering aimlessly, still as the air.

Cold, stolid, unable to move, wishing tirelessly to melt and think no more.

Pocket full of Limbo

Nothing but a foolish girl

caught up in her own cloud of dreams,

totally oblivious to the thunder and rain,

or perhaps the only one who sees the stars for what they are:

boiling, gaseous, beautiful things.

Their light travels far into her eyes

tempts her with glorious, burning wings.

Gravity pulls her back to earth where she stays to pass the days

until she knows for sure

if it's all that it seems.

Dusk of Mourning

Originally composed: August 20, 2016

Never before have I looked up to the sky only to realize I was alone. 

The stars are my friends, clouded, out of reach.

No moon beams dance in my shaded pit.

Endless darkness masks my tears.

Those ebony stains behind my eyes,

on my hands, streak my feet.

Lonely vapors form a frost,

quiet, silent, gorgeous, alone.

No echo should be heard lest my breath be ripped away too.

I can't live without it.

Or am I already dead?

After many nights passing, the great 

Inverse light begins to have a certain dark warmth,

like a midsummer night where the fireflies flit 

and bats smite all insects with

A swift, black justice.

The lengthy shadows melt away,

the sky begins to glow.

Never before have I looked down to the earth only to realize I was among friends.

Light reflected from some faraway place

Beckons photons to start anxiously in preparation for the day.

Stone does not Live

I ripped my heart out,

it no longer beats,

it's chambers are empty, no more blood to fill

My heart is hardened,

set with metal

and coarse sediments,

fossilized, tarnished,

jagged rock takes its place

Plea of the Decaying

What a pity it is to look up to a sky 

of heavenly blue and clean, cotton clouds 

While rust and unstable isotopes seep into my skin.

The doses of heavy metals dull my senses

until all feeling ceases 

and my nerves forget to converse 

along the pathways of my mind.

The welcoming air tastes of blood and dust,

my going vision blocks what light I could see.

only death in my mind.

End it now, this black captivity.

Free my bonds

Or the blade is calling.