Micah Park Biffle

 Holding Dearly    In my arms I hold my wife, her heart silent. Her skin as pale as the snow. She is cold, no longer holding warmth. Her embrace has vanished and her face is no longer familiar. Her lingering soul I feel though, I feel it upon my chest.  I hear her voice speak softly, telling me to let go. But I cannot not. I cannot let such a love vanish so swiftly. This is not how I saw it, this is not how it should have ended. Our souls were meant for the ever lasting.  We were meant to see a thousand sunsets and kiss a thousand moons. Now here I stand, alone in our house, the fire sparking its last coals. Winter settling its arms upon the valley and my breath seeping like mist from the mountains.   Feeling every piece of me crumble like the dying leaf. How pitiful I be, holding dear the lifeless vessel of my wife. I know I need to let her go, I know she is no longer her. But my heart still weeps, a hole has burrowed through my ribs and into m...

  Roman's Love    Out from the thunderous clouds he fell. Flames rage, enveloping his body like fiery winds. He his voiceless, motionless as he falls. Descending to the crust of earth. Falling from stars like a meteor sent for destruction.   Colliding with the earth at a wild speed he is forced through many layers of soil. Stones crumble, dirt flings, and hidden streams of water are revealed. His momentum is ceased after the resistance of earth becomes sufficient.   He now lays dormant in the belly of the earth. Hours go by before he becomes conscience of thought. He awakes in a mad jolt, as if rising from a nightmare. His body beads with sweat as his lethargic mind awakens. He stumbles to his feet looking up at a blue sky.   He looks to his body and feels himself with concern. He focuses his thoughts to where he may be. And how he has arrived in this unknown space. His hazel eyes dart about the cavernous crater his impact has caused.   H...

  Ascending Death    With fiery eyes I wake, aching bones and a creaking soul. A lonely moment but I breathe. I hear the voices, they speak. Their soft wisps of conclusion to who I should be. To what I should do. They trample about my head like beasts through jungles.   And in this lonely moment I rage to fight them though my heart be weak. Though the thunderous roars of my voice have become soft, I still stand. I climb this mountain though the plunge could be deadly. These quivering bones are not my enemy.  This drowning heart is not my weakness and this feverish mind is not mine. It has been taken and I shall reclaim it. I have traveled these forsaken roads long enough and my eyes can see. They burn the frozen herds of devils.  Their eyes following like eyes of cats. Keeping watch as I stumble through thickets, sands, glaciers, and worlds of ghastly pain. But I burn through their cold stare with fervor as the taste of life dangles at my tongue....

Whiskey on the Rocks    This whiskey, how graceful you fall, how gently you warm my heart. Delicate in aroma, stiff in taste. But how delightful. You coat my lingering pain so well, as if marriage be in order. Anguish and whiskey, till death do we part.   I embrace you with my drunken hand. Shaking, quivering to the somber melodies of my lonely soul. What beauty you bring from my aching heart. Bringing forth copious thoughts that pour from a broken spout.   I taste you in all things I relate to your amber color, your wooden flavors. The sunset, it brings me to want you, to taste you as if you are the melting vision before me. A genius you create as the snow falls softly upon the ground.   I freeze in my appearance as I look through my window. Admiring the scenery of the cold dreary winter. But I see myself, my dazed eyes, the dark circles that hug my drunken face. Looking, I can't help but weep, oh how I thought you numbed me. How I thought you snuff...

A Brass Heart   I reach for a pendant that hangs from my mirror. A pendant of her, a permanent photo of perfection gently placed in a small brass heart. I take it from the mirror and I open it, I carefully pinch the sides and the heart splits.  It opens to the vivid smile of what is gone. Today is the anniversary of her death, another day of grief. This heart, this photo is all I have left. As I look to it, I suppress the urge of tears. For I know she would wish me to keep going.  To grieve in the action of moving on. Of finding new memories to be created with someone else. But how does one move on from someone so close?  How does someone find another to take the place of someone you held so dear? Someone that could never be fully replaced. How do you not feel guilty as time ticks on and you hold the hand of a new love?  You know that is what they wanted, but how do you not let such thoughts sabotage the new things that come your way?  How d...

I Found The Devil in My Heart I have death on my mind, as I am sure many do; but why? Why do some of us adhere to the feeling of death more than others? Death seems to follow me like a sour taste upon my tongue. I feel it, taste and I can't ignore it. I have no true desire to call upon death early. Nor do I wish it to find anyone I love. But there are those moment, when a cloud sinks upon my chest and I feel heavy. That is when death is most apparent, most prominent in my eyes. Its quiet voice, softly stranding along the angles of my heart. Caressing with a strange comfort of peace, asking me to walk with it. A couple years ago, I would have listened. I would have poured us drinks and conversed till everything felt miserable and useless. Till death sounded like an answer for everything. We are all going to die, so what is the point in going on? Many times I would ask death that question. But I would get no answer back, only a lull of silence and a grin upon death...

His Splitting Heart  Its madness, I quake in fever of your love. But I am stretched like a victim of Renaissance, slowly separated in two halves. Each yearning for something else. A tragic scene I have become, a mad creature of the desolate. Dragging my halved corpse like a sickly dog by its collar. No strength to hold its own, only whimpers of defeat. I argue as if I am two, looking to my reflection as I am stained in the blood of my heart. I look of famine, my soul, desperate in the tears of love. While I am lewd in my craving of what is denied of me. Corrupting my own lips upon black roses, straining the world of any color. Creating bleakness to be my romance. Candle light and lonely screams now fill my nights. It's horror I wish to leave, yet, like an addict to the itch of narcotics; I pleasure in its familiar appeal. Though in the waking moments I plead for comfort. For peace in this delirious heart. For you shadow my mind with every passing thought. You are a sc...

Two Heart Between The Moon and Sun This was not what was to be, I thought surely the moon spoke clearly. That the stars were aligned in the birth of our hearts. But now I see, as tears come to be. That we shall no longer breathe, neck to neck. But rather, between the spaces of our broken hearts. Where the sun never meets the moon and dreams never meet reality. We shall be but ghosts in our memories of either. We will sleep with empty arms, feeling the air become brisk in midnight's breath. Already so lonely, and only a night apart. I feel your heart, as if it is mine. Pale are my lips as we have not kissed. I see the lonesome eyes of grief settle upon my hips. Replacing what would be, our moment of bliss.  I cry, oh I cry, but quickly replace my tears with whiskey sips. Staring at the empty side, at which you used to rest. Our music idle in the background of my mind. I replay our dances, our laughs, as if they are but something that just went amiss; waiting for the...

I am No Doctor of Your Soul I don't see any end to this unexcited down pour of your so called tears of misery. For if I remember correctly you spoke of change. Yet here you are, hanging on the tail of my coat. Begging me to comfort your tender soul. Knowing well of what my heart feels of you. What sickly ego you must bear, willing to reach to me in your time of need. Though this be a familiar need, with a familiar problem. A problem I cannot console even if you handed me the key. No, I do not wish to ignore you, but it must be done. For your soul is not the only soul between us. Mine stretches with both arms. Expanding in the desire to be a part of yours. But I have grown to know this is a fools errand. It cannot be done, for your soul reaches to no one. I now hear the fiddle that plays from the roof of your heart, and I hear the rhythm of the devil flows from it. I don't wish to condemn you to your misery, but it seems you are not exhausted of it. I fear it has beco...

Unopened Letters  He struck up a match and lit the candle that sat upon his desk. Upon the candles embrace of the flame he blew out the match and watched the smoke fade. His face shifted in the dancing light, one might say it skewed the truth. He then looked around his small cottage and began to check the doors and windows; ensuring they are sealed shut. His walk is slightly subdued by his lame leg. Injured from an harrowing event; but he dares speak of it. He prefers the ever echoing silence of the memory. Never giving more than a glimpse to others to ignore his disabled leg. After checking his very limited perimeter he walks over to his fire place. He leans over a small pile of logs as he adjusts his leg to adhere to his desired posture. He then grabs a log in one hand and chucks it into the middle of the fire place. He then reaches for another and another, he then alters their position. Allowing them to be more feasible to the igniting of flames. Once the logs are s...

A Darkly Romance She wanted a love that was tried and true, but the script read to her. Was a script of broken strings and bloody hearts. A vigorous sculpting of ruins, a burning village of sorrow. Her tears could never suffice in the suffocation of flames. For a pheromone crown of misery plagued the lining of her thoughts. Her soul, never blissfully cradled in the lips of serenity. Her head upon her pillow was the closest to peace she would ever get. She wore scars upon her flesh from the empty and greatly articulated voices of shadows. Tasting her embroiled dictation of self. Which lacked any palpable succulence of flavor. She was beauty lost in chaos, taken up by the unhealthy and wild madness of despair. Painting pictures of rejection upon her dark encrusted walls. Scarred in the screams of what would never be heard. Her pride consulting her in thought as the ego laid waste to any hope. An unkempt heart bled her of countless devotions. Her lips sewn by her own hands a...

A Psychosis Love  A psychosis of the heart, feeling what is not there. Seeing what is more but illusions of ghostly figures. A past that has been torn from the chapters like poison in the flesh. Blending the abstract to feel of reality. Though beautiful in thought, art is but the savvy of the heart; and the mind enriches such abstractions. Mixing with the intent to stay in the familiar, though pain may follow. A gorgeous crescendo only to bleed out unto the soul and flood it with no hope of breath. Not even an ark can save one from such a destructible pair. Leading one to be sheep, in their own acceptance of their naive choice. Hurdles of misery are so simple, as one knows the outcome for each. So they race to each only to fall; never taking up practice to leap. For fear of what lies to the other side is more frightful than the repetition of a mangled heart. So they become but a heart of the catatonic; rigid in suffering. They stare idle into what they know they...

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 Scarecrow Soul I know not what is left, nor where I'm trying to go. Everything has become dull, no longer do I glow. I am a dying star that fades between the moon and the sun. Afraid to shine for I feel I have nothing left to grow. A field of empty souls is all I seem to know. I am but a broken vase tossed from the comfort of my shelves. I am shattered, battered by the hands of my own ghetto. Dancing in the dim limbo of dead crows, ergo, I am a feast for death. But thought is still brought, though I wish to breathe nothing. I clamber to be a maestro of the infernal, for there, I feel I have something to follow; an end. My ego sits hung from the hollow halls of my rotted chateau. Plastered like a Fresno I crumble with no caring of my colors. Stretched out, my mind weak, I tread upon a plateau. Flat, empty, stranded in an abyss as I stand in the middle. A scarecrow, a symbol to advert the whispers of light. Drained myself dry of marrow; given to the damned. My soul, n...

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 ...

A Whiskey Love  The whiskey settles upon her lips. She clears the resting residue with her tongue. Placing her glass down she raises her eyes to the pink horizon as a tears falls from her eye. A wallowing pain of memories hack at her beating heart. A small pick strikes away with each sip of whiskey. She forces an aching smile upon her face. Places her hand around her glass and takes another sip. But the whiskey is not enough, the pain still cries out with a heavy presence. She lowers her eyes from the sky and looks to the whiskey that sits in her hand. She examines it with curiosity in hopes it will suffocate the misery that saturates her heart; at least for a brief moment. But nothing suffices for comfort. So she places the glass down, another tear falls. She tries to articulate the pain that strangles her. But she shutters in agony and reaches into the right pocket of her jacket that is draped on her chair. From it she pulls out a pack of cigarettes and a small pink l...

A Dying Heart of The Mind  What is it.....this incessant....what is this incessant ache that howls in the eve of my mind? This inane smog of emotion that jerks at the very pulse of my soul. I cannot find reason behind it, at least, that is what I wish to think. I pretend that what I feel is the result of being, that what I have become is it. That no matter the sprouting of my roots; I will never bear soil with another. That I will simply falter to the settling of what is before me. Some nights I am but a spider; clinging to the walls, waiting for what ever nourishment may fall to my web. Allowing me to nibble at a meager feast to keep me sustained. My bed side has grown in size, but has shrunk in comfort. My eyes, always stained in the dreary, the gloom of empty arms. Even the moon finds my presence petty, its tongue disgusted in the paltry of my existence. My narrow view of my heart presents me with no relief. I lay trifled in my own design of a perverse maze. Distrac...

What Keeps You Moving? What keeps you afloat in this drowning but dazzling world? Is it the flowers that bloom regardless of how bitter or harsh winter was? Do you find the drive to keep pressing on because of your children, your family, or friends? Or is it the fear of ever falling back to where you were? To lose all you have gained and become the frail pawn of sadness once more. To plummet to that dark alley where the scathing embrace of misery laid its head. Where the repugnant aroma of suffering breathed it breath. Leaving you soiled in its heated fluids of loathing. Causing the shivering of your soul as if to be a lonely child to the abuse of an unsightly offender. That empty room where you consumed the darkest thoughts as if it would bring hope. That addiction of agony that few truly understand. That excruciating feeling of wishing to expire and succumb to the insufferable call of death. What keeps you going? For what ever keeps you going, I pray the clari...