Tone

*A note, a comment, a little hint. Do not read this plainly, monotone, or like a mime. Read with the hint of rhyme - although there is none. Read with sarcasm, frivolity, and mourning...Read with emotion that had been locked into a television screen. If that makes sense to you. Without further ado: If there was ever a picturesque "blackened woods"- it was these. Painted over by an oil so thick that it not only chocked the trees, but air itself. Screams were swallowed whole by these woods. Although you are lost, however no more or less than anyone else, you dare not take off the blindfold. Being lost, at first, was not so bad. The darkness was not lonely, and it hardly appeared dark. The shallow breathing that was forced out of your deflating lungs was symphonic, and almost companion worthy. It began with the itch on your nose. You itched it. Just barely brushed the blindfold. Just barely. In fact, so barely that it was softer than the air around it, and even the occasional breeze. However, it was so alien that you became aware of everything for a moment. The oil layers on your skin and the numbing cold as it stiffened on you - but that was gone soon enough. But something wasn't. You felt the edge of your blindfold on your face so acutely that every thread hummed with a strange life. You dared not touch it. But it rubbed on you, slipped and slid across your eyes, and you itched and rubbed your body in hope to distract yourself. But it was powerful. Even in sex you felt the threads over your eyes. Mocking you in their strange life. Sitting at the roots of this blackened tree in these blackened woods...You've been bleeding out slowly...You cut your tongue out...Ripped your nails out...Still the blindfold lay against your eyes like the marriage band. Stuck. Suffocating. The shallow breathing had slowed and you heard your heartbeat. A thump, a thump, quicker thump ... then a thump, a thump. Touching your face, the blood smeared. Your fingers skirted away from that filth. Skirted until you began touching the electrifying edges of that blindfold. You place your hands over your eyes as if to smother it in. Grimacing. You become the scream swallowed whole. ** I've got no explanation for this. All of you! Come out of hiding immediately.

Aftermath

He's like the ghost in my bedroom, true I can't see him, but I feel the presence enough to not want to change in it. I feel your breath, tugging on my soul. I am though: Soulless, ...maybe it's my heart. Heartless, ...maybe it's my dreams. But I sleep dreamless still moreover. Whispers catch my ear, although I'm deaf. And I feel your presence, although I'm numb. I'm the ghost to your handlings, And yet you haunt me. -Not a poem, just my rambles. Miss you all again. I'm on the crawling high loop of life, but I'm only just now adjusting to it again. You know what I mean.

An Ocean Between Us

There is quiet on the shores of heaven, Broken by the crashing waves. A soundless wind from mountain blows, Over a darkened flowery vale. Desolate winter envelopes the land, And cries the land for water. Parched has been the drying earth, In the madness of winter's slaughter. But spring then blooms in tender twigs, And the sun across the zodiac dances. Spring has come to set us free, From the winter's threatening lances. But August comes with Autumn gray, Whom the forest welcomes in pain. The last leaves while dying saw, The threatening black clouds of rain. There is an ocean between us, And a storm mars the horizon bleak. Oblivious rain from a sky of rust falls, The wind whispers to the creek. I cannot fight this Ocean of Hate, The Divine Light hidden beyond a Forest of trees. The dark Sun shadows the Ocean Land, And hope dies in a moment of peace.

Luminosity...!!!!

I could feel I couldn’t feel I did though I didn’t yet You saw me But you didn’t Did you? You think you touched I think you didn’t Touch Series of glances Of never-ending chaotic heartbeats Saying I never wanna let go First not feel Then not give Then not overtake This sense of binding force Of forsaken forbidden Fantasies And reasons To touch See you Touch me Senses overtaking breaths Breaths Indulging in forevermore sin A sin So pure Immortal So real Surreal I wanna believe not I wanna feel not That I took What I shouldn’t have How did Innumerous colors merge With my vibrancy How did Your luminosity merge With my light We took And we gave To one another Energy That wouldn’t end We shared Sound power and eclectic insanity we breathed together and said how how how did we emerge??? Emergence like fumes Of invisible smoke Emergence like rays Of invisible light Emergence like creation Of invisible darkness Emergence Just emergence…!!!!!!!

An Evening For Flowers

Its that time of the Sunwalk, When the angled shadows sway. And sway they did, like Angels do, Under shaded Vales far away. But far below the Cherry Sun, A carriage trundles along. It bounces on the stones below, Like a ship trapped in a storm. And oh it falls like a Ship run aground, As the wilting Evening dies. Flowers broken fall like rain, From the cart who groans and cries. A Rose, she saw from her field beyond, The falling flowers hoarded. But fell in love, with one she did, The Lily as he unboarded. And lo, her heart went out to him, She stepped out of her ground. Her tremulous legs carried her far, as she kissed the Lily down. But all she felt were lifeless petals, Of the Lily for whom she had fallen. As the darkness veils the Ruby fields, On their graves, the Snow had fallen.

Vanity: You are no Fairytale

The Debut: The hearts you place in your eyes are deceivingly sublime. Stop those claws from the pearl of your skin. Take instead the bite of your lips to make accounts of the smiles you receive (ignore the pity). Wear it like badges upon your chest, but on your wrist. The Silent Ball: The pallor of your skin is not envied, Belle. The horrors of your nights are not hidden, and yet not horrifying. The whispers that ring your bells and shake your tea cups isn't gossiping Jealous, and the white room isn't encased in rose thorns (bending in coquette curiosity). The Fall of the Midnight Hour: Hence to your image in the ripples of the lake, and just as humble humility comes - it comes too late. The rose petals have fallen and the frozen pool has stolen your image. Hiding it in copious dew. --- Hello Everyone. This isn't a poem. And probably doesn't make sense to a lot. It just, wove out you could say as I wrote on a page: I have nothing to write...it began writing itself. So, much love. I remember you all, so come out of the shell to say hello. -Rachel

Bloom

How fall the horses' hooves upon mossy ground, As the earth below crumbles to dust. Then wooden wheels trample the barren, Ground parched with water's lust. The beast is barren for the harvest gold, As the sun races across the flannel sky. When all behold the beast has reared, For a falling flower in the rye. Words like music float from the fallen lily, A question in the coda they form. Why oh why you beast of light, Have torn me from the ground. There was an ocean in the face the music formed, Red roses beneath the mountain shade. Like a tremulous stem of lotus blooms, Upon the white tree the face laid. The winter child alighted upon the ground, And laid his lips among the roses. Then turned to the fallen flower as, The evening sky's light door closes. He lays the lily among the groves, And smiles as the flower sighs. The love of her floats like mist, For the winter child as she cries. And then he falls as the lily dies, From his unforgiving barren cold. And as the winter falls the fields explode, In frozen lilies of gold.