Burn

WordPress Daily Prompt – Expect

As in, I did not expect this to work. I used a first line generator, first line was “Before the day of harmony the trees echo,”

Before the day of harmony the trees echo,
Below the mountainous bellow.
Begging to take cover,
Wild things trample over
Trembling ground;
Giving rise to roaring sound.
Hiding beneath cloudless skies,
Smoke snakes along paths of lies.
Desperate for salvation
We search for causation.
Missing truth among the darkness;
Unfeeling in our catharsis.
Before the day of harmony can return,
The world must first burn.


Please go take a look at The Perfectly Imperfect Bunch! We have some lovely and deep stories this week about writing through pain (or in my case around it). 

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Wrong Direction

Do you remember the days
When we’d hang off the bed?
Upside down, until the blood
Rushed to our heads?
We’d watch the world,
Through pulsing red tinted glasses.
Everything looked so different
When you were watching it
From the wrong direction.

When we’d hide from everyone,
Lost in our own private conversations?
We were always worlds apart,
Yet somehow, we ended up in each other’s arms.
Do you remember all my secrets?
Like the ones we whispered in the dark,
So not even the creeping wind could hear?
Do you carry them gently in your heart?
Do you crush them in the palm of your hand?

I saw you yesterday;
Hands in your pockets,
Watching the ground,
Guarding your bleeding heart
And speaking softly to my soul.
I started to ask you,
But you were heading off.
I couldn’t help but feel
It was the wrong direction.


Go check out The Perfectly Imperfect Bunch!

When It’s Real

They say when it’s real it’s never over.
It’s hard for me to say,
Without melting into all the sappy gooeyness
That oozes out of love poetry.
But these are things I can say:
When I look in your eyes everything disappears.
I’m reminded that it’s me and you;
A force against the world.
I’m reminded that home was never a place,
Never a cushy pillow or a soft blanket,
But a spot in your arms, against your shoulder,
Moving with your heartbeat,
Whispering all those words grossly inappropriate,
Ridiculously nerdy,
Horribly cheesy,
And never feeling the least bit uncomfortable,
In your laughter,
Your smile,
The way your hands move along my spine.
I’m reminded that it’s support,
Not the unfailing, unwavering, always yes,
Even if it’s the worst idea yet,
But the unflailing,
The ‘honey maybe you shouldn’t’
Not because I don’t love you
But because it’s just a bad idea.
I’m reminded that
When it’s true,
When it’s real,
When another has taken your heart
Making that promise to protect it,
That it’s a conscious choice,
Love I mean.
And I know what they mean,
When they say …
When it’s real, it’s never over.

Blacked Out Drunk

Blacked Out Drunk

I’ve always been afraid of the dark,

Yet here I sit in the sallow lights and echoing quiet of this paneled sun room.

Surrounded by faded childhood toys and furniture so old it creaks when you sigh,

Like the sighs from the main room of the house as they shoot up a sweet release.

I’ve never been much for the hard drugs, the heroine and coke I mean

No, I’ve taken a liking to the ones that leave you breathless in piles of your own sweat and vomit.

Drugs like alcohol and the pure adrenaline pumping through my veins as we race through the streets wondering if this will be the day

When the dark and I meet to finally settle these differences

Demon to demon, blood thirsty, craving the fall …

Today wasn’t the day.

So here I sit in the sun room staring into the darkness with a half empty case of beer and an empty bottle of Jack.

Did I drink that much already?

It’s not my fault.

It’s just that the alcohol falls down my throat,

The way the bath water did the night I was blacked out drunk

And when I came to, choking and struggling for air,

All he said was ‘if you didn’t wake up we were going to leave you on the corner for the ambulance to find.’

Nevermind that I’m naked and doused in cold water.

Nevermind that it’s January and the snow banks are taller than me.

Nevermind that it’s 2AM and dark outside and so quiet.

Tonight, I resolve, I won’t drink so much.

Except I already have and I can feel my demons closing in as the room starts to spin.

Maybe I’ll wake up drowning in the bath again,

Or perhaps this time they’ll leave me, with the booze and the drugs, on the corner for someone to find.

In the cold, naked and doused in water.

In the dark and the quiet.

Where the demons dare to seep into the recesses of idle minds.

But that’s the thing about the dark and the silence and the demons;

They’re so much easier to ignore when the alcohol is just falling down your throat,

And you’re always blacked out drunk.

Soaked to the Bone

WordPress Daily Prompt – Crescendo

It starts with a low buzzing
A light humming,
Echoing, bouncing, off the bricked walls of my mind.
Quickly it grows, a wildfire
Clanging and banging along the barred windows of my soul.
It can not be freed.
It will not be unleashed.
But the steady clash grows, a cacophonous symphony of chainsaws
Hacking away at the binding to the cement of my heart.
Reaching a crescendo,
There’s only one way to stop it now.
Ripping away at the flesh that holds us,
Stabbing forth the hearts that blind us,
The deeds are done, the buzz has gone,
Soaked to the bone,
In the blood of a crescendo.