Monthly Archives: January 2016

Short Story

Posted on by under Fiction

 

Possibility; My Greatest Fear

The night secretes the sky in a cimmerian mask. This mask, faceless. But imagining it, I see it has only one distinctive feature; a grotesque grimace, ready to haunt.
I am afraid of the dark. I guess that has already been established. It used to be a theory of mine, what darkness really is. But now I am as sure as hell that it is truly a matter of fact…
The darkness bares a certain power. A power that any villain, any criminal, any monster can possess. It’s basically handed to them. They want to go unseen, want the next best thing from invisibility? Access granted. They seize the night, because it of all things conceals. Anything can happen in the night that you won’t know of. And it will leave you with the question of “who?”-or what.
So when they say “things go bump in the night”, they are telling the truth! I stay in my closest through the night only to eliminate that common conviction of monsters and closets. I keep the windows shut and locked, gated on the outsides with bars of iron, even on the steamiest of nights. Hell-no to see-threw curtains; can’t imagine what kind of creatures cast those terrible, contorted shadows. Titanium chain locks on the doors-no peepholes of course! My pantry is stalked to the ceiling with pepper spray. My blanket is bulletproof, and so are my pyjamas. I haven’t seen my reflection in 24 years because I am terrified of even just the thought of looking in a mirror. How could someone do such a thing as to look into a reflective piece of glass and find someone standing behind you, even if it were just your shadow. Don’t even get me started on my shadow. I despise the retched thing, following me all day, casting out what little light I have left in my life. Scary things don’t just happen in the movies, they are all possibilities. And I am gravely afraid of possibility.

I live by myself. My mother tells me to get married soon, and that I have a problem. That I have nothing to be afraid of but myself. And that is why I’ve never been able to be close to her-or anyone really. Never close enough to tell them that I keep a 12-inch rifle in my underwear drawer.
You never know what the night could bring to your 20th-floor apartment.

The Rose

Posted on by under [Random] - Poetry

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Between my finger, between my thumb,

rests a deep veridian stem.

A few inches up, bursts into a rose,

your radiant diadem.

My fingers have found,

a haven between two thorns.

The angel’s pilot,

among the devil’s horns.

My thumb bares the burden,

by which the rose forms.

Curled-edged lapels,

of paper-thin swarms.

My index freighted affectionate,

upon the goblin staff.

Beheld a crimson ruby,

of pain, of love unmasked.

The petals play twistly,

illutional vastness.

This hurricane, it bleeds,

beauty within madness.

My prize, I win,

my piece, I treasure.

Oh rose of velvet proportion,

oh stem of love’s measure.

 

Cage

Posted on by under [Fiction] - Poetry

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It isn’t all too bad,

I may still feel between your bars.

There’s that freedom,

so close, yet so far.

 

I slip my arm often through,

to a perspective only my arm will ever see.

My perspective’s striped,

all it’ll ever be.

 

My fingers have touched freedom,

my mind has only known steel.

My bones obey my barriers,

and my heart can’t even feel.

 

I breathe the cold-cuts of oxygen,

that roll in through these gates.

Though slices of air are better than none,

I tend to somehow suffocate.

 

There is so much more out there than in here,

though my horizon arrives quite soon.

I have one wish that I already know is bullshit,

I know I’ll never see the moon.

 

On Purity

Posted on by under [Fiction] - Poetry

 

I kept my eyes closed,

when I removed my clothes.

Never dared look at my own body,

never dared to be “naughty”.

It crossed me as a sin,

and now every part of me is a virgin.

My heart, my soul,

my eyes, no toll.

But I don’t believe that means I am inexperienced-I’ve done things.

Stolen things that good couldn’t bring.

Broken glass with screams I sing.

When told to be quiet,

I whispered the curses.

Beneath my breath,

I blew away these urges.

I’ve overeaten my desire to be thin.

Feast on image, is that a sin?

Heaven on earth,

can’t find the light.

Tell me I’ve wronged,

when I can no longer fight.

Don’t tell me I’m wrong,

when I can still bear.

The pain you inflict,

it will always be there.

Eat me alive,

with words of your own rage.

Fight your battles,

and leave me the graves.

How long you’ve told me,

what you perceive “right”.

I’ll hold hands to my ears,

and find slumber at night.

Bags of salted humility,

hoard under my eyes.

Lift up these sags,

high into a smile.

The rising sun,

no longer is warm.

See what you’ve done,

nowhere to me is home.

But now regret not,

your bias of “the wild”.

As now I do not fall short,

from purity’s child.

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