Burning Fire

I have fires burning in my thoughts.
Fires of hate searing with intense heat,
Melting with embers of shame
Drifting up from the flame.
My eyes burn holes into those that look,
I walk alone through crowds of those
Who repel and avoid my every step.
I glance at a stranger,
Their head turns away;
I look at a woman,
She passes my empty soul;
I look at a family,
Protective angel guides them
From sharing with me
Their happy ways.
Reach in and feel my heart
Frigid fuming acid jealousy,
The memories of a day
When I longed for a life
Have all but vanished
Into the flames
Of the burning fire.

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Abandoned

The hell, left for the wolves. Through black pits of tar my mind was dragged till up it came coated, dripping with muck. I viewed the world through the ooze where my thoughts severed and tore with disgust. I was appalled with what happened because what happened was appalled with me:

I was born.

She went to a church and she pushed me out of her womb, and without knowing what or who or how I would do, she left. She had her life on her mind, and I was in her way.

I still think about you, mother, I think about who you are, where you are, why you never came back to say, “but wait a minute, my baby…that’s my baby.”

A Vision of Hopelessness

Cascading down from high and simmering mountainsides that rose steeply from the valley floor of which, their brambled layers bore nothing more than the marks of charred and blackened scars, these winged creatures soared, the magenta glow dripping from the sky illuminating the ugly and mutated curves of their horrid shape. They fed on souls lost in the nakedness of those woods without warning, swooping through black, leaveless branches and gliding through empty spaces where one could try and hide from the core of their voracious hunger and hate. Piercing all ears with terrible shrieks, fear tore furiously for that hour, and those caught by claws were taken to unknown places where the unimaginable occurred. In one corner of a burnt glade, two of these creatures fought over a preyed upon soul while in another, obscured from view by a tree barren with soot, a soul would quiver and shake within the hope of one more day’s escape from frightful capture. Another space away, and the heart chilling screams of a soul could be heard, where the clawing and clamping jaws rending tender flesh animated beneath the bony sockets of cold eyes that fired stares of sheer evil, eyes no living being could look upon and live without enduring inexplicable pain.

When the end of the hour came, the shrieking frenzy could be heard to fade slowly into the distance of the red skyline crags, and once again the souls would seek to sit out the darkness among the embers and the ashes, hoping for relief that could not come, and knowing, knowing that all too soon, the return of dread and terror would strike to carry off the others until they, too, would suffer the same.

The Lie

“Is Jennie going to the party tonight?” asked Clare.

“No,” Laura replied, “she’s working late tonight.”

“Good,” Clare said, “that means I can get at Mark without her bitching about it.”

Jennie showed up to the party, not having to work, and finding Clare rubbing on Mark, felt a stiff pang of jealousy.

Laura couldn’t stand Jennie, and this made her feel good.

Ruse

I begin, with a friendly smile. I start, and my conversation taps into your interests. I play along until we are friends, but all along I am eyeing the life-force you breath, the life-force that flows in your arteries. You don’t realize, but as I create an ever greater presence in your life, you begin to experience mental difficulties: you’re angrier, you’re sadder, you’re frustrated. Without you noticing, I crawl and slink my way into your life, and then slowly, with each passing day, each passing hour, your life begins to dissipate. I grow with power, while your will fades, until I am a towering monument to the destruction I have wreaked upon all that you hold dear, where the only alternative is to banish me, to kill me, or to succumb to the pyschological terror until you become a zombie; vapid and broken.

My ruse has worked, again.