Micah Park Biffle

 Severed Filament    We were something or so I wish to say. But I know we were but a momentary filament. A connection quickly severed by timing. An unwilling heart to expose itself sat shivering beneath my chest. I swallowed every ounce of fear as if an antidote for disease.   Shortly lived were we. Our light dimmed by insecurities. Our hearts never to spark a lasting light. Doomed from the start. I fumbled the bulb and upon my ribs it broke. Shattering to the bleak hallows of my thoughts. A swamp seeping with pity as if sadness will attract is an attraction for love.   What heart desires the weak? What heart desires the glum of a lonely soul? None, and those that stand preaching they do. Are merely looking for pity to fix that which lies within their own skin. But deny the remedy to heal.    Their hearts always given to another, never to please themselves. They walk with eyes lethargic to beauty. Clambering to fill a void with more sadness...

Hard Work Lost    How easy it is, to lose it all. To have your hard work stricken from existence with a simple press of a button. Oh, how I sometimes miss those days of the typewriter, of ink and pen. But those days have sadly gone and went.  We are now digital, where everything is permanent, yet not. All could be lost by the massive inception of a virus. Corrupting every picture, every word, every video you ever took, written, or saw. Anything and everything up in smoke. Or rather ripped apart into ones and zeros.   But we must not become fools to our wretched existence that is often held with beauty. We must not let the fallback's, the tribulations of disaster be our guide for emotion. Rather, look at these deletions, these corruptions of work, these ashes of hard work.   As a lesson to be more careful, a lesson to grow more patient. Learn to persevere when others fall to disaster. We are not perfect and no matter how diligent you work to become, th...

 A Rebirth   It all went to hell, everything, everything fell apart. Like revelations everything burned, swept up in an orange fiery haze. Lungs choked, emotions rampant. My devils and demons collided, the oceans ran dry and my heart expelled from my chest through my throat.   I could feel nothing any more but the remorse of my decisions. The lack luster I had put forth in my life was my all consuming inevitability of my end. I thought for sure I would rise through my ranks but I was foolish to my touch.  I ignored signs and took pity upon myself. Now I am stand in blood as the resonating regrets of my life spill from pale mouths like Greek gods born of jealousy or payment. Tit for tat and I cannot cry, I cannot weep.  The heat of these flames hold me arid, barren to the emotions I should have. But the chaos before me has taken all order, the snake has devoured itself and Pandora cannot be shut. I turned the key the moment I let myself feel sorry. ...

Dismal be The Headless  It is dismal, this place. The walls have degraded with each passing day. I no longer feel it is my home. I feel my own skin wishing to retreat from my bones. I am alone in the empty space I call home. Settled with spiders, roaches, and more.  The floors are covered in the dreary existence of debt, of soul, heart, and wealth. I don't know, but I pray someone may come and help. But I am poorly suited for company. The least I can do is dust off this shelf.  Be presentable in at least a moment. For a moment I can hold it together. Keeps myself from fluttering away like a feather lost in wind. There must be a way I can step up and win. This place is riddled in filth.  I now walk on stilts. In fear of touching my own ground. Beneath this miserable pile of sludge, underneath it all, is my crown. But I gave it up long ago, I turned over my crown to the day I let myself down.  I could feel myself drown. As I flailed for my crown. Out...

   My Execution of Love Do as you wish, this heart is a traveler of darkness. Scars have found home upon my heart like termites to rotting foundation. Day by day my heart slowly crumbles, it is nothing without you. Without us.   I am catatonic to love. Frozen in the position of melancholy. A possession of dark clouds have gathered in my mind. I wear a cloak of obsession, an obsession to drown this catastrophic wound.   My floors are covered in lust as I pounce from lips to lips. Seducing the hearts as bleak as mine. But no matter the sedation, I can hear you, feel you. My eyes are green, envious of your ease to cope; to find another.   I have shriveled to bone, to dust. Place me in your hand and I will be blown to the faintest wind. Wild images of darkness shade my thoughts. But if I had the chance to tell you of these, would you even care or would you do as you did when you left?   Walking in blankness as if nothing had meaning. It hurt, our...

The Woman in Black  She held her hand to the flame. Watching as her flesh became a dripping candle of agony. She screamed with pain but gave no sign of stopping. I heard her screams as I was walking through the woods. Trying to find peace in my own head. Hearing her screams I stopped, adjusted my focus toward the focal point of her voice. I ran to her, I could see her after a only a few moments of running. She was there, at a fire, wearing nothing but a black dress and a dark veil over face. Bloodied misery fell from her lips like moonlight. I rushed to her, telling her to stop. But she gave me no sign of my existence. It was as if nothing else was around. Once I reached her she vanished into thin air. I fell, stumbling over where she should have been. I fell through the air crashing onto the forest floor. I stood up with confusion. As I did, I heard her screams again. I rushed to her again. Finding her in the same position, screaming, watching her own flesh melt from h...

The Perfect Beauty   She is perfect, built from the gods and birthed from the pearl of Poseidon. She is everything any man any god would want, would crave. Upon her birth she already stands among the gods as something extraordinary.  Her locks of red hair sway like flowers to ever soothing currents of the sea. Her skin, like the white pearl of the womb she broke from. Her face, perfectly spaced from great admiration of her father, no mistake was given.  She walks the earth in perfection. Each step she takes, beautiful flowers bloom, birds sing, and the world stares in awe. She resembles what all Beings of any life wish to be. Never silent, she always finds reason to speak.  If she be not speaking, you can find her singing. She walks the many cities of the world with absolute confidence. But as time progresses she still holds no hand for marriage. Yet, she continues to stride herself with grace and perfection.  Every city displays a statue of he...

A Land of Memory  As the river seeps to the ocean I feel my soul expand to the glossing waves of summer. Crashing against the once broken shore of my heart. But now my sands vibrate with excitement, attracting the risk of the unknown.  Blossoming with arms wide open to catch the unforeseen as do shores reeling in debris. I follow with my eyes to heed to the beauty of my thoughts. Never catering fully to the echoes that call from the ever ebbing waves.  The lodge that sits at the edge of the woods once swelled with painful misery. My heart was torn from my ribs at the hand of my love. I quelled my misery in the delight of vices as I fought to forget her lips, her soul.  Our feet used to press together into these sands as we waltzed with smiles and eyes fixated to each others glistening horizons. Every flower reminded me of her beauty, of her elegance. Just as flowers sway to the touch of wind, so did her hair.  Such aroma do flowers give, but their ...

The Narrow Walls to The Heart  I open up the door and before me stands a giant wall, roughly three-hundred feet tall. Pearl white, smooth like ivory keys of a grand piano. No cracks, no blemishes, just a wall of solid white. I approach with a curious heart. Nearing the wall, a door appears, a red door, only a few inches taller than me. It holds a golden knob with no key hole. With my world as it is, I see no caution not to open it. Everything at this point feels hopeless. My heart feels trapped and I see no end to my suffering. My ribs feel constricted upon my heart and my breathing has become shallow. So, I do what any desperate soul would do, I open the the door. As I do, a bright light shines for a moment. I can't see at first, but I adjust. I step through and there, in front of me is another wall. Another large standing wall, only ten feet from me. No door appears like the first, I immediately turn around to return to the first door, but it has vanished. I am star...

In The Darkness I Fell   The demon outstretched its hand. I could feel the heat of misery swell from its body as he peered from the darkness. My pale skin glowed in comparison to the depth of this darkness. I could feel my resentment in my blood boil.  As the demon held out its hand, I felt a moment of compassion for myself. For in that moment someone or rather, something else was willing to lend me their hand. As I reached out with my frail limb against my burdensome agony. I felt the heat in the darkness rise, I began to hear many voices.   It felt as if a crowd had gathered to watch and spoke in hush tones as not to disturb. As if waiting for the climax of story but are all to eager for the end. As these voices built, I became disturbed in the image of my pathetic state.  I was cold, and the heat of the darkness was comforting my lonely heart. The more I became disturbed in myself, the louder the voices became. In my hysteria of emotio...

An Ignorance of Two  The water is as still as ice and gleams with a pearl blue as quiet ripples orchestrate off the small boat. Both passengers, Edgar and Rye look to each other for reassurance. They have been traveling for three months, over coming treacherous storms, facing monstrous beasts, and thwarting the illusionists of magic. They are exhausted beyond belief, they have very little rations and are running low on water as well. They look toward the path of their boat, but dense fog hugs the brisk air. Looking out into the unpredictable path, Edgar places down his paddle and moves behind Rye and reaches into his bag and pulls out a small old brass telescope. He expands it and places it to his right eye. Rye picks up the other paddle and continues to stroke. An eerie silence fills the air, all that can be heard is the paddles splashing against the water. As they slowly coast through the still enchantment, a sudden look of surprise spreads across Edgar's face. He remov...

To Those With Depression To those that are depressed, I bring you these words and hope they fill the belly of your soul and nourish your heart, Today, may be tougher than the former or maybe not. Maybe, today is like any other day, you struggling  to remove yourself from your bed is but a wishful feat and nothing more. As you are coiled in the monotony of sadness that seeps from you like foul breath; from a desperate evening of melancholy. Maybe, the mere action to place a smile upon your face may feel like lifting the world from your chest. I know these feelings well, I know them as well as I know the color of my eyes. I know when even a sunrise is no more joyful than a slaved day at work. When the world is pressing you into the unimaginable sinking of despair. Where the air is thin but anxious thoughts a rabid. Where colors fade and all you see is grey and the whispers of death sound so sweet. Maybe you have fallen much further than I, where the act of infliction'...

Tragedy Holds A Key  Tragedy- a lamentable, dreadful, or fatal event or affair; calamity; disaster. Tragedy, an unfortunate circumstance that is never punctual in its arrival. Always arriving when it suits its desire. Never in the perfect moment, where stability meets horror. It appeals to its own derivative of existence. Bearing no idealistic compassion for its unsightly contributions to those it harms. But, beneath its unorthodox approach to its instruction of its self. It bears something no other event can bring. Though it brings much grief, misery, and entrails of suffering; there is a seed. A tiny seed, which can neither be touched nor seen, only felt. A seed that brings opportunity, character, resistance and, wisdom. But these gifts are not without tribulation. Many may think tragedy is but a selfish creature; maybe so. But if greeted by heart and not of the mind, one can receive great abundance of spirit; life. For what is lost, is never truly lost. It must go...

Anxiety Attack I see the door, the open entrance of it all. But too much anxiety holds me, it grasps my throat. I fall back, scurry to the corners of my darkness. Making friends with shadows, though they only lacerate my hope. Bleeding me till I have nothing left but contempt for myself. My heart, racing to a rhythm I cannot keep. My breath as shallow as a receded tied. My hands clasp to my head as I try to filter through the animosity. The clouding misery that impedes my path. I cower to my fears, helpless; fidgeting for an excuse to let it all go. Time becomes my wrathful enemy. Its eyes narrowing as it constricts my mind. Pressing me further and further to the darkness. Seconds become minutes, hours become days and I cry with no intent to reach for compassion; neither for myself nor time. I feel no resolution for forgiveness. I stall, like prey to predator. Stunned in the recollection of my fears, never prepping myself in advancement. Sweat pours from my brow, my flesh b...

A Poetic Thought A dime a dozen, a smile. The attraction of the unexpected, the never sought out. Wandering the pastures of an open heart. Leading with no concrete expectation. Breathing in the salted air as waves gently crash. Passing the fading past as if it is but only a foot print to be drowned. Listening with calm ears, following with eyes of magnificent curiosity as the seagull passes above. Calling out to the sea in search of others. Spreading wings to guide even in the coldest of days. Storms bolster with arrogance. Wavering a tantrum of rage, eventually calming in the wake of empty praise. Scars of the rash, but a remedy can be; plucked from the burdens of the chest. Shared in the commons of suffering. Letting no ill memory be the waking of thought. Standing steady even in the rush of agony. Allow no avalanche of tragedy to condense the purpose of life. Bleed from only the mistakes, the failures. Burrowing hills, reaching the peaks of mountains. Creating an abundan...

Why Does This Heart Beat?  How does this work, my heart? Why does it hold its rhythm though I do not dance? Does it not see the agony that hangs from it? Does it no see the shrill of misery that flows from the spit of my tongue? Its lush beats keep these ragged bones shivering. Though they shiver in fear they find reason to build. To stay attached to the fibers that hold it together. I walk with these bones and I hear them murmur in the cracks of my joints. I hear them, the creaking, the screaming, the bitter exhaustion of wanting rest. But still I move, as does my heart. But why drag this withering body through the fields of the ripe? I tend poorly to my own flesh, my own soul. Why does this heart bleed so, breathing in, exhaling the platelets of my body? Does it know what I do not? Is there a song I have yet to compose, a poem I have yet to spill, or a heart I have yet to break? This strange thing beneath this rugged chest. It beats, it holds rhythm and song; all ...