Tag Archives: solitary

Nightlight

This headache could be ended right now

And not a naive soul would even notice it

Besides the bedroom walls that whispered

About the blunt blades and sharp knuckles

That passed by them when every midnight

Grew dim and solitary and far too mindless,

And the innocent child that held violence as

Their only form of staying awake to stay alive

Caused them pain over and over and over again.

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Death is a Butterfly in a Mason Jar

For death is something

That cannot be caught in butterfly nets

And kept trapped in glass jars

Death cannot be locked by time alone

Its shadowy wings must flutter

Like ashes through smoke

And search for a breath to steal

As it cannot create its own, only pilfer

Death suckles on nectar tears

Sweet to its palate as it is bitter to mortals

Indulge in soft, exquisite decay

Within the lost garden of perennial grief

All before its delicate withering skin

Touches upon an unfortunate fragile falling chest

And suffocates it with gossamer light

Until ceases it to rise once more

Death is beauty and darkness intertwined

Like a balloon string entangled on a white rose stem

Or blood on a stained glass window

Not all can appreciate its grotesque sensibility

As they fear for their mortality

They simply fail to view past the thin veil

To reveal a nurturing, solitary entity

For death is lone, but it must never be lonely

A heart to bring, one soul to reap

For death must always carry one life

Before it takes away its own.

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Shrinking Summer Violets

I don’t think I shall regret

Missing out on such “fun”

I find it more captivating

To be left than suffer sun

You’ll have your holidays

On ocean and sandiness

I’ll have mine in isolation

Of eremite empty houses

I’m but a mere periwinkle

Flourishing with darkness

I thrive in rhapsodic woes

Under films of dusty webs

Foolish or magnanimous

Peculiar or lonesome true

A sabbatical from frantic

You’ll be gone, I won’t rue

Despite begrudging teeth

And behind closed doors

I have a calm delectation

Quailed by literary scores

Basking in bijou quietude

A shrinking violet I’ll heed

Mayhap such an interlude

Is what this lone soul needs.

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Fear in the Heart of the Beast

It’s senseless, isn’t it?

Chasing stars like this. A malevolent race of blood and starlight, dust and galaxy, radiance amid vespertine. The vulnerabilities I partake with reproachful glances and consternated sighs, as another concatenation languishes itself woefully from my tremulous velvet palms. All the unnecessary perplexities. Chatoyant winks. Recrudescent idiosyncrasies. Pyrrhic viciousness. It’s almost maddening, like pulling at a switch to turn on the dark. The desuetude of prayer, the imbrication of penitence against sin, the self-sustaining cycles of ultracrepidarianism against the gallimaufry voices, ridden with febricula and rallying beyond this pannychis, begging to be heard. Yet my solitary garrison quavers none, and left to my own devices, I arm myself against those shots in the midnight, forays into forests of violent crimes, heart hammering against my Adam’s apple so harshly that I am confident I may simply poke my tongue out and watch its scarlet palate throb. The fear, the intensity, the asperity of it all, finally taking its toll on me before I waned away my lurid admonition; my enemy was not those who wish me dead at their skins, it is I and this foolish quavering soul. The paroxysms of resentment and infinitesimal blinks and twitches of arrogant pain jolting through my spinal fluid, kneecaps shattering and popliteal sweating as I kneel forcibly, succumbing indignation and surrendering both hands to the efficacious reign of the nightmare, derisive silhouette shifting only ever smugly in its carved skeletal throne, positioned rightly upon a bejewelled vestibule. The requiem wails its bereft knell. One by one, the myriad astrology coruscates into wretched dimness. The universe has gone out. Only nonexistence, spilling with emptiness and triumphant in its ironic vitality, remains to be seen. The nightmare sneers. Too late.

And, at the very destruction and devastation of both my tantamount solidarity as well as the fabric of reality, at the amusing otiosity of it all, at the grandest scheme of this laughable redundancy, I can only wonder with a morbid rickety grin, unto what end shall it all lie?

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Solitary Confinement

You keep wishing for loneliness, envious of my situation

Craving for solitary confinement, like it’s such a reasonable notion

While I sit idling away as I whittle the peeling paint on the wall

Desperate for human contact, voices in my head taking the fall

Such a special little snowflake, wanting to be left to your own

Never truly knowing how painful it is to be completely alone.

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