Skip to main content

~Badlands of the Heart~

Walls breathe quietly
Watching silently
She’s sleeping
Dreaming illusions
That teeters on reality
But brush against fantasy
And tremble
Then are gone
So still the walls they breathe
As the Hourglass must retrieve
Its sands
As they trickle
Through her fingers
As she watches
But she’s sleeping
Dreaming nightmares
And dying in her soul
For she’s lost all control
Of her heart
Because it’s bleeding
Although the moon controls blood-tides receding
Her emotions become a poison
Pumping venom to her eyes
She sees the world in disguise
Looking for some simple answer
To why her heart lays in her hands
In shattered pieces still and cold
In time and times of old
We find ourselves in the Badlands
Of the Heart
And the Hourglass has lost it’s sands
Once more the walls they breathe
Her chest a sigh does heave
Once more and still again
Searching for an end…
An end!
Something whispers
Hush now, wait
Badlands always send for those who fail
To beat the Hourglass
Draining fast
Hourglass, it speaks no more
And Badlands have at last
Closed the door.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

The Mess Of Writing

So, some of you know I pretend to be a writer. I was a prolific and mildly talented writer in my past. I dreamed novel sized stories, but could never get past the short ones, there were a couple I wrote out to 150 pages with the outline and general story written out, but they died there. It took me years to both realize and then accept, that I was no good at anything but some hybrid of prose and poetry that is heavily non conforming to the accepted rules of writing, grammar and english. My problem is rooted somewhere in one or more of my mental illnesses, I just can't absorb nor comprehend (translate to an understandable example) accepted structure and rules for any type of writing.  The words go down on the paper the way they come into my head. They don't want to be amended, they come into my head the way my mind perceives them to be correct and meaningful to what I am trying to express, which in my skewed brain, is the correct form, again, to ME, but maybe not to anyone else....

Just Think Blogsitive

For whatever reason, Facebook altering the "mood" of the Feed or just people picking up on the same theme of a few reposted sayings; I've been seeing so much over the last few weeks about thinking/being positive and being happy is a choice. Believe me you, I tried. I tried so hard for so long. It was like mining, every day I would go to work with my pick and with everything I had, go at that dark, stifling underground of resistant rock with my polished, shining pick, flashing brilliantly in the dust filled muted ray of light struggling down, striking in a dazzling tiny shower of sparks, tiny stars lighting the edge of the black hole lurking beside me, that feeling of what could be hidden just below the surface, something amazing just waiting for the proper angle of my next strike...that never comes. Oh, I get the thin, reedy vein of something momentarily in the right light flashing and promising...it may be a lesser find. It will momentarily fund the repair of my pick or...

Seriously?

Originally Written by the13thcynic October 6, 2009 at 5:13 PM I cannot be serious. Seriously. I can’t. I keep trying and it never works, I just can’t BE serious. I can fully appreciate serious and situations that are… I can understand it, hold it, feel it, express it in other ways, I just cannot *be…have* nor verbally reply seriously unless I really fight to accomplish such. Felt the need to see it in words. Carry on then. I am not stupid. I am not shallow. I’m not unfeeling nor simple, clueless, ridiculous, uneducated, uncultured or ignorant. I’m just me. Which is a bit more than a bit much to take for some.