Nightmare

I can find no silver lining to my cloud, only the tormented rain, beating out its own agonized misery upon the rooftops of the dead. And where lies the horizon from whence summer should rise, the tendrils of a blood red dusk creep higher, promising the destruction within, wrought from my own obscurity, I am a prisoner of my own soul.

 The lucid torturer who comes each night with brutal whispers of derision is none other then myself, in all my vicious candour, I persecute myself, for the wrongs I shall not commit. No life lies upon this plain of desolation, my sanctity is broken, my dreams shattered, disillusioned beyond repair.
My cold, cynical heart holds the grey desire of a thousand murderers, painting the delirious heavens a devilry of discrimination and maltreatment designed to beguile the most vindictive of spirits.

 If you enter into this bitter jurisdiction, you will find no sun to this shade, no hope to this despair, and no dawn will light these frigid skies. So upon your broken wings my friend, fly if you have the strength left to do so. Fly before this nightmare, before you too, find it your reality.

Red Wine

Sordid, it calls to the darkness within

Sickly, sinister as sin

Red gluttony spilling down my throat

Around my lips doth liquid choke,

More, more, my scrambled mind cries

As one more brain cell dies

Awakening sounds within my head

Voices I thought long dead

They whisper secret things

And to my mind an illness brings

Grotesque affliction of mine

That deadly, dark red wine

Chess

The board is set the game is played

No more moves to be delayed

The king in check the queen no more

I see the end of the chess-piece war

The bishop dead, my knight is slain

My castle sacrificed in pointless gain

The pawn creeps up, unaware

And has the impudence to declare

By some cruel twist of fate

Checkmate.

Look at me

I don't have anything to say really, but I feel like talking. Its funny how often I want to express this ball of emotions that I harbour inside me, but don't know how.
There's a darkness inside me, a heaviness to my chest like someone's foot is on my chest pressing down harder and harder. Sometimes I just want to scream at the world to look at me, just to make people stop and see me; really see me.
I want to talk and be heard, and people to ask me where I go when my eyes are so far away and I stop listening.
When someone asks if I'm ok, I wish they would actually hear the answer.

100 things that make me happy

Because its a challenge, and i'm sick of being sad.
 In no particular order, just as they come to me:

1.The rain
2. Hail
3. Typewriters
4. Music
5. Dancing in the Rain
6. Walking by moonlight
7. the moon
8. Balloons
9. The Zoo
10. A blank page
11. A handwritten page
12. receiving a handwritten letter
13. Birthday cards
14. Baking
15. Making surprise dinner for people
16. Buying people presents
17. Children
18. Kittens
19. My pillow fortresses
20. Reading a good book
21. Music Boxes
22. Travelling
23. Being a tourist
24. Swimming pools
25. Singing
26. Shyla
27. Age of Empires
28. LAN
29. Cake
30. Tea
31. Hot Chocolate
32. Happy dreams
33. Shopping
34. eyeliner
35. Champagne
36. Christmas
37. Birthdays (not just my own!)
38. Making other people happy
39. Random acts of kindness
40. Human decency
41. When chivalry isn't dead
42. Tv shows like Supernatural, Game of Thrones
43. Joy-especially when she smiles
44. Snorkeling
45. My Mum
46. Castles
47.Ice-cream in the sunshine
48. bubble-baths
49. Talking on the phone to good friends
50. Dressing up
51. Going out to Dinner
52. Feeling loved
53. Catching the rain on my tongue
54. Swimming in the middle of the night
55. Being Spontaneous
56. Doing something I've never done before
57. Doing something that makes me proud of myself
58. Feeling independent
59. 'Les Miserables' soundtrack
60.  The movie 'Tangled'
61. Sleepovers
62. Camping
63. Photographs
64. Taking Photos
65. Old Photo albums
66. Family
67. Snow
68. Blogging
69. Parties
70. Cheeseburgers
71. Fire
72. Candles
73. Perfume
74. The Cinema
75. Flowers
76. Lemons
77. Red Wine
78. Teddy Bears
79. Hugs
80. Being Kissed
81.The Sky
82. Flying
83. Lists
84. Butterfly
85. Old artifacts and ruins
86. holding hands
87. Someone saying 'I love you'
88. Laughing
89. Feeling safe and protected
90. Acting like a child
91. Acting like an adult
92. Sailing
93. Boats
94. Creating
95. Spinning until I'm dizzy
96. Driving into the unknown
97. Accents
98. Money
99. History
100. Being Free.

You are alone.

If only I had thought like this when I was younger!

The Cup of Tears

Drink not to deepen dreams,

 But rather wash away- 

Those drunken maddening screams

 Force my hands to obey, 

Oh wicked, wicked hands- 

They owner thou doth betray; 

In strange and twisted lands 

The sun stands on its head 

Alone, in desolate sands 

The world a blackened, bloody red 

Watching from some distant height 

As heaven halted in her fears 

Alas, I have drunk from the cup of tears

One Day

One day I will live in a house with a writers view.

 I will have a desk by the window, and out the window I will see the ocean breaking on a white sand beach. When the tide is low I will be able to see clear rock pools and my row-boat beached on the sand. 

When the tide is high I will see the waves breaking on the shore and the lonely footprints disappearing into the sea.

 I will hear the waves crashing in the night and the howl of the salty wind in a storm; I will see an angry sea illuminated by lightening across the pulsing sky, and when the night calms and I watch the sun rise over the water, I will see my inspiration.

 This is my writer’s dream, where I can breathe the salt air, listen to the waves and see the raw beauty of nature. Where my words will flow as naturally as the sun rises and my joy will be unmatched. Peace, tranquility and companionship. 

 One day, I will find that house on the edge of the sea.

Pain

There are only two types of pain in this world.

The type that you ignore, shunt away into the darker regions of your mind and try desperately, hysterically, to pretend it isn't there. Concentrate on the stain on the wall, on the sound of a lawnmower at the edge of your hearing, anything to take you mind off it and pretend it isn't there.

Then there is the pain you accept. You revel in it, bask in the white-hot fury of it, feel the liquid fire trickle through your bones and radiate outwards. Instead of ignoring it you concentrate on it, accept it as part of you, as something you cannot change, and instead wait it out, like an old acquaintance that you're too polite to tell to go away, and wait instead for them to leave on their own accord.
You take strength from the pain, but it's a twisted power, it gives you the ability to lash out at others, rather than to help them.
 It is the agony that you spread to others, and it is this pain which is the most dangerous, because anger is so much easier than hurt.