Wednesday, December 14, 2005

You may be in for a treat....
I've written quite a bit of stuff on this computer at school and now I either have to delete it or post it here and copy and paste it. So, here it goes...

My eyes are fierce and hollow
My soul lays thick with ice
I’m distant and thin
Like paper of rice.

But these eyes they burn
Burn with cold fire
The passion I’ve spurned
Has returned
half-dead
on a funeral pyre.

My hair serves to hide me
From this wicked world
And it flows like a flag
In the breeze unfurled.

My skin, though pale
Holds a darker hue
Made from a shadow hale
Across the twilight dew.



As if you’d understand
You stare me in the face
And “Help” me
Why?
Do you really think you know
Anything at all?
Heed this, monstrosity,
I bear many burdens you’ll never
Comprehend.
Leave me be,
Please

When all was not well with poor young Thomas, his dear brother, Timothy, would take care of him. His friends and neighbors referred to Timothy as angelic, yet, they didn’t realize the truth of the matter. Who would have guessed that sweet Timothy held an almost ungodly secret inside him? At odd times the boy would “change” into something less than human, a beast with a man’s face and body but the wings of a bird. At these times Timothy would disappear and later have no recollection of what happened, save horrific, slurred, and miserable dreams of wandering barbarically through the forest. What bothered him most though was the one dream… the dream that caused him to shudder uncontrollably, the dream that involved blood. Everywhere the smell of it, he couldn’t find it till he glanced down at his wretched, taloned hands and found them dripping with God knows what’s blood. He wasn’t a monster, was he? Had he killed? What was left for him now?

Till Death do us part

“I love you so passionately, Nightingale, that I will die to be with you.” The young man said as he lay at the deathbed of his one true love. “Phillip, you mustn’t speak so. I promise you, I shan’t die here, It was a promise to my mother by the ghost she met in the forest. DON’T do anything drastic. If I do die here, you must keep living. I love you.” She said her voice was a wisp of sorrow. Her eyes closed slowly and her breath ceased. Nightingale!” Phillip called out to her but for him her soul was gone. He did do something wrong, he did do something rash, he did give up. He grabbed his favorite knife, the one with which he had carved the nightingale charm around her neck. He slit his wrist and grasped her hand as his life’s blood spilled on the ground.

Many Weeks Later

The umber forest echoed with the sound of footfall and peels of laughter from the many wraiths inside, but, one banshee filled the frosted air with her sobs and cries of “Phillip! Why Phillip?!” A stalwart traveler passed through the forest on his gallant charger but stopped cold in his tracks at the sight of the gossamer maiden weeping on the forest trail. “What witchcraft is this, foul witch?! Thou seemest a maiden fair but I canst see the trees behind thee.” He commanded an answer of her and she felt obligated to reply. “Sir I am no crafty wizardry, only a pale maiden be.” Said she sadly. “Surely thou art a bit of mischief, be gone before needs be I slay thee.” He said angrily and she replied, “Your Lordship if only I could, for I am encapsulated in this wood, a slave, to weather all my woes unable to feel the grass between my toes or even frighten docile does.” “Would that I could, wraith, but I doubt thy innocence, why would thee be captured thence?” he said quite sternly though he was afraid. The ensconcing fog around did pulse with every beat of her small heart. He was beginning to believe her truth. “Why would such a good trickster cry?” he said in a faint hope of distracting her. “A promise of utmost importance to me was not kept, and my soul is restless. I have to find my love and only then will I rest..."


I happen to be
Very contradictory
I am terribly shy
Yet there’s fire in my eyes
I am weak—snap like a twig
But I am strong when there is need.
Do you realize I’m not what I seem?
I’m not any one thing
I’m peaceful
And violent
Commandeering
And submissive
A blast of color
And shades of gray.
I am the dawn and dusk of day.
With those who know me
I’m almost boisterous
But, with you I’m almost silent.
This silence sickens me
Overpowers me
But defeat this demon I cannot.

Riches are without real worth
They cannot give you mirth
But only fill your girth.

I wish for you a happy song
I wish that you would sing along
But please ring the gong.


I want only
I need only
I pine only
For you.

You love me
You enjoy me
You compliment me
Perfectly.

These are true
So why do you
Leave me in the dew
Alone?

I know many perils but love wounds the deepest.


Well if you want to read more of that short story up in there, say so and I'll keep writing. I'm not a disturbed person I didn't want Phillip to die that way but it was the most pathetic, rash, and sad thing I could think of.
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