For Future Inspiration

If not now, when?

Petal

The lone
Dew sleeps on
The petals
Edge

It's weighty
Press induce
Water's time
To Fall

Lo' angry
World of
Gravity
Bring me forth
To thee

What time

Should be

Parent and

Disrupt

My purpose  

Petal sleep.

The Ballad

Oh fashion, you cold unforgiving Mother;
Please accept my failures
As a formal apology for my existence.

An Introduction to a Work in Progress

      Dark binds against the windows like sap on a tree. And like sap, it seems to cry from some innocent wound that slowly heals with bitter light, sealed by the scar of the red impending dawn. But till then there is the bed that cradles fantasies and terror that echoes against the dark. 

She stared at the cross hatching pattern of her pillow trying to avert her free falling thoughts away from the dark. Because it wasn’t darkness, it was the night; same as the wind isn’t a friend but an element. How much she wished that the night could just throw off it’s melancholy act and become the day. She started to shake, first inside because the “thoughts” came from inside. No...thoughts is what she called it to the people who have asked aloud. They were memories, memories of dreams that have appeared and woken from. Dreams that have assaulted their meaning with icy scenes of lonesome waters, and the dagger pain of furious shadows, scorching the emerald grasses of her once serene visions. 

The shadows would stay till the following day, shifting at the corner of her eye until she again laid on her worldly bed and watched as the shadows paled against the dark of the night. She was very afraid. Until the morning.
- Elizah Scared 

The Fact

Certainty is Death

Certainty is Death
Mystery is Hope
And Dreams
Are the Windows in Between

Museings

Like at the end of a dream, you stare into the image that squirms before your eyes, trying to forge reality from the brutal illusion that slips away, I try to form the words with every sort of strength I have, reaching to be heard by the angry memories that are quickly collapsing into shadow. Just before the end I mange to say,  "There has to be more than this."
That is all I can think to say when I lay there.