Micah Park Biffle

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. ...

These Marshes Bring no Peace  I thought I was safe here, far from everyone and everything I know. I am alone, I cast myself from the horrid reaches of memories. Crowded between marshes and rivers, a place only I know of. Yet, here I am, shrouded in stress, in misery.  But I have all things I need. I have my home, food, water, and shelter. I have peace, I have the silence of the night so that I may think. Yet, I am still haunted, haunted by visions of what was. Mistakes streak my dreams like a filth covered window of neglect.  I hear voices of former loves whisper in the soft silence of nature. The frogs belch of memories, calling out names, out agony. The crickets, rubbing their legs together spread shadows of doubt upon myself during the humid heat of the night.  I have no mirrors in my home. Why? For I feel a reflection of myself will only drag me back to what I miss. I dare not even look to the waters of the marsh except in the night. For there is not ...