Waiting and waiting and waiting again.
Huddled in my nest, cocoon, my den.
Knowing it’s futile
Yet not stopping to breathe.
I continue waiting
To satiate this need.

so they gazed upon the shore
their hooves of alabaster
freedom in their nostrils breathed
no more would they be mastered.

so they trod across the land
stopping day nor night
until they happened upon the place
to make their home that night.

so they built and toiled much
thus bringing to completion
the home that they would make their lives
their journey at its fruition.

Posted on another blog previously.  I feel it fits better here. 

She surveys the destruction around her without comment. Broken chairs and tables. Bloodied shards of glass strewn about the floor. Her lethal fingernails scrape along the table as she examines the scars in the wood; allowing her finger to trace a deep gouge running the length of the table. The lights flicker, winking a steady rhythm. A broken pipe, half-heartedly spurts water fountaining up and onto the floor. It travels down a natural dip in the flooring to pool at the center of the room. She steps over it easily, her long stride keeping the water from touching her boots.

The woman pulls her cloak tighter around herself, the hood hidden behind dark tresses. She chuckles softly as she wends through the debris; her black boots making sharp clicking noises with every step. She purposely crushes broken glass; a feeling of satisfaction fills her. Only for a moment though.

Crossing to the far side of the room, the heavy wooden door stands partially opened, beckoning her forward, seductively. As she nears she can see further beyond the door. Her steps slow. Her mouth opens slightly, an almost gasp of shock? Surprise? Pleasure? Her nostrils flare as a fetid odor assails them. Worse than she expected, yet she’s secretly pleased.

Anticipation at an end, she pushes the door open wide. She hears a gasp come from the room and readies herself for the unexpected. Bodies lay strewn about, limbs torn off and half eaten. The smell threatens to gag her even as her smile widens. Tattered curtains which once adorned an outer room had been liberated and made into a moth-eaten table cloth. A few tin plates rest on the table, surrounding a centerpiece of stacked human skulls staring blankly in various contortions of horror.

Her survey of the room almost complete as her eye lock on the object of the only other noise in the room. A human male, still living. By the looks of him he hid under the rapidly falling bodies during the carnage. His eyes are haunted. Sunken and lined with dark circles. He hugs his knees tightly to his bony chest as he rocks slowly, steadily back and forth, moaning softly.

“I see they saved me one,” she says finally, reaching out to close the door. She smirks slightly as he whimpers at her words. “They know I love a coward.”

There doesn’t always have to be a story.  Sometimes things need to die.

Most of this feeling, this angst I feel so often inside of myself, is all because of me.  I don’t know how to let go and just be.  I want to but I’m terrified of it.  I’m not sure what I truly fear.  The unknown within myself or the known which I choose to keep hidden?

I have said my goodbyes.

The shadowed heart died.

Desperate pleas met with silence.

Unknown angles.

Unchecked violence.

Waters swirling, crashing forth.

The force of the sting entangles.

Words spill forth on the page

A caffeine stained assessment of our lives.

How simple it is. 

The words all lined up neatly. 

Prim and pristine.

Hiding the molding husk beneath.

Always more than the eye can see. 

What skeletons do ye keep?

Do they scream in the night

Waking you from an uncertain sleep?

‘pon glittering hills

trod well worn hooves

place and time

do not matter.

the pattern is set

this game we begat

will end with the

bite of an adder.

When dreaming of the other place

Keep your eyes open, mask your face

What you don’t see, can harm you.

In the blink of an eye, they’ll drag you in.

The water here, it glitters in pools

Drowning passersby, the silly fools

The unicorn, she runs alone

upon crashing waves, a siren song

Dragons take to the air

Soaring.  Owning the skies.

The wild hunt rides the forest at night

Stay alert if you don’t want to die.

trembling rafters

cringing, creaking

close the door

it’s slightly squeaking

bolt and latch

and chain and lock

the whipping boy

is on the block