Existence

Despair sits upon my head like that of a crown on a king, casting a veil before my eyes that filter out the colors of life.

Desolation hangs around my neck, with one firm hand that reaches into my chest, holding my still beating heart in its cold grip.

A billowing cape of loneliness envelopes me like a smothering blanket that gives no comfort, but only suffocation.

From a dark abyss extend the chains of doubt that are shackled around my feet, anchoring me in place with the inability to move.

Seated on a throne of failure atop the highest peak of the highest mountain, surrounded by barren lands, my kingdom of emptiness.

Frostbitten winds whip at my naked body as the bitter cold bites into the marrow of my bones and the depths of my soul.

The pain has faded long ago, leaving a dull ache of numbness that flows through my veins, as I pray for death to come.

“Come O Death, and spare me from the curse of my existence.  Take my lands, and fill them with the dead. Let the rivers run red with blood once again.  Release me from this meaningless life!”

Death appears beside me as a shapeless shadow, placing one hand on my shoulder as it leans down to whisper in my ear.

“No.”

 

---

Author’s Note:

I really don’t know what to say tonight.  Maybe this piece is thought-provoking, maybe it’s cheesy.  Obviously, the kingdom isn’t an actual physical land, but rather symbolic.  The message is pretty straightforward, in a way.  We’ve all been there, hitting one low after another until it feels like rock bottom.  Only then to find out, there’s more falling to be done.  Some of us want to be released from this life, which can seem like a curse at times.  It’s the easy way out, sometimes seeming the only way out.

Is it possible to cast off the crown of despair?  Remove the pendant of desolation?  Tear away the cape of loneliness?  Break free from the chains of doubt?  Rise from a throne of failure?  The answer is something we all find in our time.  Or maybe, we’re just meant to live a tormented life of a miserable existence.  You decide.

N

The Cuts on My Feet

Desolate is the land of which my bare feet traverse,

A dismal emptiness of which is my curse.

The paths that lie before me do not have an end,

Forever going onward as I descend.

 

I’ve lost my way, straying from the path I started on,

Drifting through a world that never sees the dawn.

A day that lasts forever trapped in its twilight,

With a lingering sun that burns through the night.

 

Stumbling in a wasteland where day and night don’t differ,

Hope has ceased its flow like a dusty river.

The dirt beneath me cuts like shards of broken glass,

Piercing my feet with a hurt that will not pass.

 

An endless desert of dirt and blood speaks only pain,

Is there an escape or am I to remain?

Wandering forever as I’m waiting to die,

Cursed to an existence of eternal strife.

 

The cuts on my feet continue to fester and bleed,

As my will to live continues to recede.

Questioning my existence and wondering why,

Is it worth going on, and living this life?

 

---

Author’s Note:

Well, another piece with a cheesy rhyme scheme.  Why the rhymes?  I don’t know, it’s fun to do I guess.  That and using a few patterns.  It’s interesting to see the patterns in our lives, whether it’s our daily routine, a specific way of doing something, or a way we connect with each other.  Then, when it all falls apart, it becomes chaos.  But, there’s a pattern to that as well.  We don’t always see them, and sometimes it just takes a different view, or someone to point it out like those hidden images in another image.  Once we find it, we can spot it much easier whether it’s simple or extremely complex.  That’s enough of that for now, on to what I was going to say.

Have you ever wondered “What the hell am I doing?”

I’m pretty sure we all have at some point, and more than once.

How about, “Where am I going?”

Not in the physical sense of direction, of course, but in life.  The years go by in a blur, people come and go, the world changes around you, and you’re stuck in the same place with only scars to show.  No matter how hard you try, and what you do…  No matter how many steps you take in any direction, the glass just cuts into you again and again and again.  As you bleed out, you’re still searching, still going on, and what little hope you have of getting somewhere, or anywhere slowly drains.  Pain turns to numbness, and the thought of letting go becomes more inviting.

Yeah, sometimes it’s like that.

N

Ghosts

In the dead of night you always come to me.  You take many forms but it’s you I see.  Behind their faces, and behind their eyes, trying to hide your presence in your guise.  Yet it’s you I smell and it’s you I breathe.  Though you feel so familiar, I don’t know who you are.  In my dreams I sense you there, so close, yet so far.  We travel across the universe, to the realm beyond shadow.  The time soon comes for you to leave, to a place I cannot go.  I stand alone and think of you, underneath the falling star.

With each day, it comes to an end, as I watch you die again. Opening wounds I cannot mend, the slope of madness I still descend.

---

Author’s Note:

I don’t know who you are, but I feel you there.

N

Decay

I stand strong, and I stand tall. But that is all that I’ve let you see. For deep inside, the rot slowly spreads through me. A silent killer, quietly creeping through my veins. Blackened spots start to appear, mottling my skin with sickened stains. Concealing my sickness, and masking the stench. My thirst for life is something I cannot quench. My mind is lost, drifting further each day. Trying to hold it together, as I continue to fray.

Here I am, and here I stand. But it’s taking every effort, you see. For the rot is killing me alive, in my entirety. Ravaging my body, from the inside out. Death is soon approaching, there’s no question, there’s no doubt. You can see something’s wrong, when you look into my eyes. To what extent is what you don’t realize. With a nod and a smile, I tell you that I’m okay.  Yet the rot slowly spreads, as I continue to decay.

---

Author’s Note:

I don’t know what to say today.  We all struggle with internal issues.  We all hide some things.  Is there something that’s eating away at you?

N

Cold

There is no warmth here.

…Unrelenting…

No refuge, or sanctuary.

…Unforgiving…

There is no hope.

…Undeniable…

No fighting the storm.

…Unbreakable…

There is no love here.

…Unaffectionate…

No companionship.

…Unending…

There is no escape

From this…

Cold.

---

Author’s Note:

A simple short piece.

N