Poetic Bends

The Light of Day

We bury ourselves in the light of day

Slowly shifting deeper than six feet under

When the falling night comes our way

The only sound of encroaching thunder

We bury ourselves nice and neat

And wait for the rain to render our defeat

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Poetic Bends

A Hungry Heart & A Ravenous Soul

My heart is hungry

The lining stripped raw

It’s running on empty

Like all the old flaws

My soul is now ravenous

A malicious red demon

In a life that’s hap-hazardous

It screams out like a beacon

My heart is on fire

Smoke filled and bleeding

I stoke each burning ember

In search of some meaning

My soul is imploding

A slow, violent collapse

The inner lining eroding

The remains become scraps

I watch and wonder

The world spinning on time

As we all fall asunder

Is this just my design?

Daily Post Challenges · Poetic Bends · Thoughts of the Day

This Shattered World

Another response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Weaving the Threads.”

I can feel myself losing sight of a long forgotten dream. The child in minds eye is no longer one of grace and innocent being. The world has fallen into chaos, spinning off of its axis; tossing our lives every which way. We’ve lost control. Our fingers grasping at nothing but straws and thinner than thin air. We’ve come undone. We can no longer describe ourselves as irrevocably unbroken. Our hearts are falling to our feet;  in fleeting after fleeting piece. We are slipping between the earth torn cracks; fissuring on the glass of this already shattered world.

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I am splintering into myself. Out of myself. Away from myself.

“Show me your soul,” the darkness begs. The shadows loom up behind me, threatening, promising to fully and completely consume me. At the very last second, it ebbs away like the moon possessed ocean, receding towards the edge of this world.

Wading through the broken hearts and war-torn souls, through the tear stained eyes and pitfall stomachs, we find ourselves, not in a ocean of despair, but on an island of vengeful hope.

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The dreams come to me not behind closes eyelids but through pupils exposed to effervescent light and pitch worthy, violent white noise. I find myself exposed to the thoughts but not feelings of others and wonder just what lies beneath the surface. Despair, diligence and disgrace.

I imagine that this place in time is in an ever spinning standstill. The surrounding world one of colorful black and white. I wish for things my heart cannot see. The feeling is there but never fully formed.

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-You can find my first response to this writing prompt here