The Writer's Library.

None can say they walked with her. Ashes and dust stirring. Goes on, this queen. Images of sparks from whence she stirs, Never to be woken? Even as the walker I question this. Into the long unknown I stroll. So the bridge she builds so easily, Intertwined as laurels. Before the gods, Yesterday becoming tomorrow. Lasts the night as Long? Am I to be she, awoken?

Touching this paper again, reminds me of all the things I’ve done. When I go to bed at night, I still feel...empty. Anger, passion, emotions, all are fleeting. The only thing I’m left with is this quiet hollowness. An indifference that can’t seem to sit straight. It sits slumped, on its seat, but not touching his desk. His head is hung, staring off somewhere past his feet. Sometimes I wonder if it really matters if I close my eyes when I lay to rest. Open or closed, I don’t seem to get real sleep anyway. I can’t even remember my dreams anymore; my dreams make it worth going to bed. As I lay here I can feel the cuts on my feet. I often go out by my favorite tree, but I don’t bother with shoes. My lemon tree has thorns. I don’t mind the cuts on my feet, I hardly feel pain anymore. It’s the beginning of spring, and despite this, I don’t feel the joy and hope that follows this season.  The only hope I’ve felt caught in my throat when I saw all the butterflies and dragonfli...

I looked up at the sky this morning. I drive out just as the sun comes up, lighting up the buttery bottoms of clouds.  I was awed.  Awe is such a rare feeling, one that should be held onto and treasured. Awe and wonder shed years off the soul, my youthful sparkling eyes look up to the sky, breathless.  When I saw you for the first time,  you didn’t smile.  I could only be disappointed.  I was in awe as I got to see you lift your lips and laugh for the first time.  My awe and wonder as it shed years off of your soul, our youthful sparkling eyes look at each other, even to our last elderly breath. 

I go to sleep at night,  I still don’t know how to face myself, This mess of a body, Hoping I won’t live to see the morning.  I go to sleep at night, I take all the pills I want, I drink until the bottle slips my hand, Hoping I won’t live to see the morning. I go to sleep at night, With chest pains, A migraine, And a broken heart, Hoping I won’t live to see the morning.

Don’t go chasing waterfalls, But her waterfall of hair was exquisite.  The long fiery tresses, The delicate profile of her nose as she glances back over her shoulder.  My mother told me to keep my mouth shut, But I couldn’t help myself as I looked at her, Mouth agape at her smile.  Only later did I shut it, As I pressed them to hers.  I was told that this wasn’t natural love, But her soft breath on my ear And the tight curves of her were natural: No silicone. 

Are you tired yet? Are you tired of fighting me? I'm tired. I've been so tired for so long. I've been waiting for you to give up. I want to curl up on the floor. I want to sleep, but you haven't let me sleep. I'm going mad, even now.  Three days without sleep. Three weeks, three months.  "Time will go by, and he will forget." Time went by, and he has not forgotten, not in the least. He remembers more and more each day and each night. I just want to die, so it would be over already. Why do you do this to me? What is so special about me that you haven't given up yet? God, give up on me.

I walked along a pearl river, I strolled across the onyx night, My tail slither. I stalked between the thickening trees, I breezed across the open fields, Mind-poisoning disease. I heard the cries. I felt the boiling air. I smelled the fire. I tasted the bitter hate. I saw her neighbors cast her onto the pyre. She screamed out to me as her body seared. I was drawn in to the ambrosial tempers their primitive natures revealed. She convoked me to make her mark. Drawn closer to the shimmering heat, she welcomed me. These heathens' malevolence brought out by the dark. And so, They heard their babes cease their lungs, My curse wrapped tightly 'round them. They smelled my gift of dead rats in the water. They felt their blood freeze in their bodies, as I released them of their hot-headed hate. They tasted the blood as it came forth from their lips' last empty prayer.