Tale of a Monster

Upon this spot in this deep wood

A beautiful young child stood

Hair rich dark half down her back

Lips of red and clothing black

And on the weary path stood still

For she could not see past the hill

Her mother’d warned her too right

That she had best stay home tonight

But she thought to have a surprise

And wonder yet; did she realize

The man abreast the dusky field

Was not as she her life had sealed

And far across the trees down low

Where the golden flowers grow

He brought her there and she did feel

At last perhaps her soul he'd steal

Now she did try with all her might

That little girl put up a fight

Her mother and father weep

As she will see forever’s sleep

Grapefruit Juice

Death by Candle sitting in a fortressed land

Death by silence or death by sand

Peaceful minds maketh things that all the world can't see

Yet death means so much more to me.

Not all bad and not so sad

And of course, I am surely mad

But fear is so unlikely needed

For why is survival so heeded?

It's no surprise your thoughts are blank

Their fears and troubles dark and dank

Ne’er shall i quite comprehend

Why we all so hate the end

Death in a small room, burning bright

Death for us who see it's right

Until you see me another night.

I remember...

I remember the fall sky with purples and pinks and blues, hiding under quiet clouds that seem an afterthought. The taste of autumn in the air. I remember the peace that was there, but only when I was alone and the entire world was just me, the woods, the marsh, the train, the sky and the dying sun. I remember itchy mosquito bites and fires and how everything seemed to be okay, only it wasn’t. I remember crying myself to sleep each night as their voices rose louder and louder, angrier and angrier, and in my mind . And then the terrible sobbing that tore me apart even more than the yelling.

And then I remember things I don’t want to. I remember the sickly sweet smell of beer on his breath as he towered over me. I remember not knowing what to do. I remember what it feels like to give up, to quit, to turn your back on all that you had lived for. I remember running, running....running forever.

I remember the first time I whispered into a dandelion, its seeds gently falling into the wind. They all flew away, leaving me standing with a dead ghost of the yellow flower it once was. I remember wishing I could be with the seeds for just a moment, that I could fall with them and I would never have to worry again about what I would see.

I remember when innocence was everywhere, and I was innocent except not at all. I remember my own delusion about what it was to be a child. I remember enough to know that they are not true, but I hold onto them with everything I can because they are all I have.