A twisting presence that rises like flames, burning all that is without resistance. Bringing no hope to those who run and those who run, will only strain a longer sentence. Fear, is the demon that finds prey in what one finds difficult and those who cower from the difficult, lead with blame and speak of insult. And from the mists of the stars comes its lingering stench. Stinging the canals of the nose like sour fruits. Leaving actions like mutes. Its bitter flavor melts the taste of faith, it burns the homes of dreams and devours the rhythm of life, all this, it constitutes with vicious grace. It boils ambition with a smile of bliss. Licking its lips of any hope and like the busy you will dismiss. It follows with no need to run, no need to try, to pray, to hope, or leap. It only needs to wait and its darkness is filled with patience. Patience that has no discern of time, laughter, dreams, or life, and its hunger is infinite and its heart is black and ripened in violence .
Fear walks among the living in the shadows as its mind draws of murderous sketches. Filling its mouth with deceitful rhyme and its eyes spill of roaches. Jubilant, as bodies of dreams, wishes, faith, and hope, lay murdered, sprawled like victims of war ruptured from their hearts. And fear expands its its grim crusade as it feasts upon the bodies like foul vultures in darkness, panting with the blood of life as it finds this to be the true way of onse arts.
It leaves no ounce of flesh to be left, leaving no ability to recognize. Its speaks as of it is right, as if it to tell no lie, but its lips weave of dishonest cries. And like Hermes, its a trickster of all kinds. Many will follow, many will believe, but in the end, all will grieve. And like the girl in red, singing between the falling leafs of the woods, they will no longer breathe, for the false words of fear have punctured like a blade upon rotted flesh. Drawing love, faith, and dreams, like blood drooling from severed veins. But there is no room for fear, yet many open their doors and permit it to shelter.
Only to find themselves wide eyed to its murderous tricks, leaving faith to the spoils of liquor. Displacing ones once hopeful life into a spinning tragedy of insanity, of oblivion. As fear gnaws at the reminiscence of what one used to be, leaving the soul stricken. But do not speak as if all are weak to its presence, for fear gives no judgments. Blinding those already filled with dissolution and distress, fear is an actor, knowing how to impress. Fear preys upon all, but wins only those who do not prepare their walls. It will breach the smallest cracks, the smallest stitch, it will haunt the minds narrow halls. And like insects to closed doors, it will find its path, whether it be a pipe or split in the shingles of the roof. Fear slithers like a worm inside the mud or our minds, its victims falsely led by its meager stature. Recycling emptiness and sorrow is its nutrients, its needs and sadly, the mind is not soundproof.
Thoughts that bring it value are that which give it breath, give it life. Give it the fortitude to conquer the beauty of faith, hopes, and dreams. Cutting the youngest, letting them bleed, displaying them for all to see. Creating tears where strength once led. Where a leader stood with feet pressed against the floors of faith as it holds them up. As they hold shut the hordes of shadows that vigorously pound at their door with mouths greedy of molded bread with all hell wishing them dead. But, like the needs of a virus, fear will spread with no guilt, no penance, or shame. It will merely feast upon corpses and bleed the living of hopes and dreams till it host surrenders with a belly erupting of fear. A constant tending of the soul is required to keep it at bay and one must learn to take fear and demand it tame. But few wish to lead a battle against a beast that craves the very essence of ones soul, a beast that lusts for the very vision of life and a beast that salivates with a crude appetite to claim. Fear has no place to be, but so many fall for its tempting plea.
Popular posts from this blog
The Blameful Two The world broke as their hearts bled the shadows of their misery. Seeping upon the world, flooding with the scars of agony. Their eyes trembling beneath the moonlight as their blood stained hands shimmer. Their lips sewn as each is caught in a lie. Both bare, exposed to their duality. Their curtains drawn thus unmasks the bodies they have slain. The skeletons of truth dragged through the spoils of deceit. Each, unwilling to speak. Their cheeks flush in rose petals. Their skin taut to the anxiety of their arrest. They are now the victims of themselves and each the other. Two hell's preached in the underbelly of their weakness. The fraudulent thought in avoidance of pain. And now they stand as nude as the beginning of life, Adam and Eve. Shaking, they are without words. Silent, bearing only tears that fall to the blood soaked floors. The dark whirlpools of hypocrisy. Neither is without sin and neither is without murder. Their souls weep dearly a
The Moles Never Learn I found myself walking in the snow, my head aching with a sharp pain. I feel the back of my head, there is something crusted upon the rear of my skull. I dig my nail carefully into it. I can feel the crust collect beneath my nail like dirt. As my feet trudge through the sixteen inches of snow I look to my nail and there in my nail is blood. Dried cells of my body. Upon seeing this I become confused with worry. I place my hand once again upon my bloodied skull and began to examine it. I slide my index finger like the bristle of a broom, back and forth trying to see what wound had allowed such blood upon me. But after several seconds of feeling about, I find nothing. No scratches, no lacerations, nothing. My worried confusion musters down to mere confusion. I rub my eyes as I am strangely held with a slight daze. As if I have been interrupted from a deep sleep. And the evening air is not helping my situation. I am comfortably wrapped for a day tr
The Choice of History There lies an entrance, a red door to a place far different from any other. Where magic is real, time is alive, but love is dead. It is a place of desolation and pain. A place where blood flows from rivers and mountains are built of death. It is a place so horrible, the door has been sealed shut. Locked for all eternity, a place once flourished with bountiful colors, a place where ever growing thoughts and wonder once pranced like dear through meadows. But like anything, there comes a time of destruction. Where city floors were leveled, trees were chopped, and hope was a lost. A time when everything ran its course and something new must take its place. A time when death lives and life is but a drip of water falling from a distant cloud. But not all is lost, though the entrance is locked, hidden from the eyes. It can be found by the heart, by the vision of faith. It can be brought from its slumbering chambers if only one dares to find it. To l