She closes her eyes and slips into slumber but at the stroke of midnight, wakes. The darkness surrounds her, making her claustrophobic. She feels trapped. She closes her eyes to keep the darkness out, but that just brings it closer, into her. She sets it aside, makes it part of her, and yet apart from her.
She watches over it, nourishes it, makes it grow...
She watches and waits. Somewhere inside her there's a stirring. Something fighting free.
She lets go... and it is born.
Friday, March 27, 2009
Friday, March 13, 2009
Freedom's price
She watches, jealous, as her other self flies free. Wishing she could go along, but tied to the murk that controls her mind. Writhing streamers of envy reach out after her higher self, who laughs as she evades the gloomy strands...
Just once, she would like to be the one that escapes. The one who tastes of the freedom and the joy. But she is trapped. Trapped by her lusts, her hatreds, even her loves. Her love of the light keeps her here; bound, so part of her spirit may remain free, unplagued by the demons tearing at her now.
Sacrificed to the darkness, she pleads with her alter-ego, begs for rescue from this cloying fog that surrounds her. But she is too far away, drowning in the mud of deception and death, while somewhere in the clouds, the joyous soul flies free.
She is free. She is trapped. She knows that the Light One is part of her, born of the consumation of her love of Beauty. But the cord has been cut, and Light One, nourished by all the power that she had to give, has taken wing.
She is left incomplete.
Alone.
Empty.
Defeated.
Just once, she would like to be the one that escapes. The one who tastes of the freedom and the joy. But she is trapped. Trapped by her lusts, her hatreds, even her loves. Her love of the light keeps her here; bound, so part of her spirit may remain free, unplagued by the demons tearing at her now.
Sacrificed to the darkness, she pleads with her alter-ego, begs for rescue from this cloying fog that surrounds her. But she is too far away, drowning in the mud of deception and death, while somewhere in the clouds, the joyous soul flies free.
She is free. She is trapped. She knows that the Light One is part of her, born of the consumation of her love of Beauty. But the cord has been cut, and Light One, nourished by all the power that she had to give, has taken wing.
She is left incomplete.
Alone.
Empty.
Defeated.
Thursday, March 12, 2009
Witchcraft
She knows what these witches can do to her. She has thirsted for their knowledge, longed to learn their craft. She sees the allure of the darkness they worship, perhaps better than some of them.
She would have been one of them, but threads of sanity hold her back. They tie her to her family, to love, to all things good. They keep her from releasing life, and embracing the darkness. So she clings to all that is pure, shutting out the demons, not letting them near.
She prays for redemption. Not really for her soul, but to ensure the safety of the ones who hold what's left of her heart.
She would have been one of them, but threads of sanity hold her back. They tie her to her family, to love, to all things good. They keep her from releasing life, and embracing the darkness. So she clings to all that is pure, shutting out the demons, not letting them near.
She prays for redemption. Not really for her soul, but to ensure the safety of the ones who hold what's left of her heart.
Monday, March 9, 2009
She wakes...
... to shame, guilt and fear.
Shame that she could forget herself, her values, her God.
Guilt that she could hurt those she loved. And enjoy it.
Fear that dreams will haunt her waking.
Shame that she could forget herself, her values, her God.
Guilt that she could hurt those she loved. And enjoy it.
Fear that dreams will haunt her waking.
She dreams...
.... of murder, of torment, of mutilation.
Blood is streaked through her dreams, glaring crimson through the night. She is repulsed, and yet revels in the river of gore.
Death is not to be feared, but welcomed. Pain... so much pain. Not just her own, but of those she loves. She sees it and feels nothing but a strange sense of elation at their sufferings distilled into her dreams.
She fears what she becomes, a Hyde wrested from her waking Jekyll. And yet, there is power. Such power she cannot resist. She needs to feel it fill her, strengthen her, infusing steel into her own blood. She drinks it in, glorying in its pulsing pungence.
Then she wakes.
Blood is streaked through her dreams, glaring crimson through the night. She is repulsed, and yet revels in the river of gore.
Death is not to be feared, but welcomed. Pain... so much pain. Not just her own, but of those she loves. She sees it and feels nothing but a strange sense of elation at their sufferings distilled into her dreams.
She fears what she becomes, a Hyde wrested from her waking Jekyll. And yet, there is power. Such power she cannot resist. She needs to feel it fill her, strengthen her, infusing steel into her own blood. She drinks it in, glorying in its pulsing pungence.
Then she wakes.
Saturday, March 7, 2009
In the dark...
She lies there, and it surrounds her... Curling its fingers through her hair, tugging gently, teasing. It lies beside her, stroking, fingers against her skin, calling her name softly...
She pleads for it to leave her be, fears it, but is enthralled. Its voices whisper in her mind... drawing her in.
She feels that surrender will let it consume her, spread through her being, turn her mind to madness... and yet she wishes she could, to end the fear by being one with it.
You tell her it's a lie... and she wants to believe. That it's just her mind playing tricks on her. That the voices don't exist. That the allure of the darkness is not real.
But it's all a lie. You lie, though you know it not. The voices lie, a soothing facade for darker dreams...
She pleads for it to leave her be, fears it, but is enthralled. Its voices whisper in her mind... drawing her in.
She feels that surrender will let it consume her, spread through her being, turn her mind to madness... and yet she wishes she could, to end the fear by being one with it.
You tell her it's a lie... and she wants to believe. That it's just her mind playing tricks on her. That the voices don't exist. That the allure of the darkness is not real.
But it's all a lie. You lie, though you know it not. The voices lie, a soothing facade for darker dreams...
Who am I?
I am
what she fears...
Those insidious thoughts
that slither her way
through the depths of the night.
Those pestering prattlers,
the nagging doubts,
the clinging yearnings.
Will I grow
unwatched,
unheeded?
Or will
probing of
this darkness
spread it?
I am
the blood,
the guts,
the gore
of her psyche...
Yet,
I am
her.
what she fears...
Those insidious thoughts
that slither her way
through the depths of the night.
Those pestering prattlers,
the nagging doubts,
the clinging yearnings.
Will I grow
unwatched,
unheeded?
Or will
probing of
this darkness
spread it?
I am
the blood,
the guts,
the gore
of her psyche...
Yet,
I am
her.
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