Micah Park Biffle

The Selfish in the Eternal "Forgive me, forgive me!" James cries out as she dissolves from his view like a ghost to the tales of a story. His tears, as sorrowed as the death of love. He reaches out as his steps become heavy, but she is too far and his heart is too heavy.  "Why do you say nothing, why leave me like this...whyyyyyy?!" He bellows as not even a breath is heard from her lungs. Her steps as subtle as a stroll against a lake. His eyes as wallowed as a raging ocean.  His body tumbles like stone shattering through a hollow earth. Everything around his becomes ruins, shrapnel of pain. "What have I done?" He says as tears collide against his hands. "What have I done?"  His knees compressed to the paved road. She, as distant as a star, so bright yet far from anyone's embrace. He is lost for words now as he begins to feel clutched by a cold gritty grasp. He lays knelt in his pain as a brisk breath falls upon him.  Wafting a...

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...

A Beggar and A Daughter  A queen she is, dawned in the cold embrace of winter. Her handmaidens as lovely as her. But her spirit glows much brighter. Her eyes are sentient, each showing the provoking emotion of her soul. They are gentle, yet powerful in presence. She walks with humble steps but prides her posture in confidence. Her wings touch the clouds, her heart the stars. She was once the empty heart of a beggar. Grown in the slums of Niddle Wick. A town of harsh souls and even worse weather.  But her ever persistent heart to be more, always presented her a smile. A reason to be swelled in hope though her father be a vagabond of the streets. She loved him though he was resistaned to hope. His heart weighed heavy from his past. He was clouded in the aftermaths of his hell. Allowing the roots of his regrets and fear to tangle his soul in the frozen hold of his thoughts. His eyes, weak, bitter, his skin tattered from the elements. He holds obsessively to his...

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...

The Chapters We Fear  He sits looking to the pages before him, the ones he wrote. Turning each page with hesitation as a grim feel of grief taints his face. His eyes looking leery of what he shall read. For he knows the words that have tied themselves to these chapters. Peeling each page back with reserve but in the intent to understand. His heart drops in a constant revolution upon the turning of pages; fleeting to the boules of his gut. Moon light shimmers along side the welcoming of modest flames, it flares a shadow upon his wall. He looks to his flickering silhouette that fears the moon and candle light. It contorts with a sight of misery compelled by the wish to retreat. Snarling at the visage of what he is. He ignores the aggravating wishes of his shadow. He continues to turn the tears and blood stained pages. This book is no mere read for the weak nor the lackadaisical. It is the exact reflection of himself, of everything he has done. It is a book no man wis...

Choking On The Repressed  The door swings open, a ghastly wind rushes into the room. It takes hold his throat, he begins to choke; he struggles to his feet. Grasping at his throat his eyes strung wide he finds no passage to inhale. The candles lit upon his mantel fall. They catch fire to his antique rug. Suddenly the windows that overlook the valley lift open. More wind fills the grim space. The flames rise higher with the rushing presence of air. He continues to stumble around the room gasping for relief. The more he fights, the closer he feels at the foot of death. Visions begin to emerge, all those before him manifest from the raging flames and the dancing smoke. Voices eclipse his thoughts, darkness overwhelms his senses. A cold yet warmth gathers at his chest. He's sees a figure standing above him looking down as he falls upon his back begging for assistance. But the figure does nothing to repress the violent strangle that holds. His vision starts to blur, sweat ...

You Don't Die Today It's morbid, this existence, well, at least it can be. Moving forward at a snails pace, hoping for a by product of such motion. But you begin to feel still, as if a wall stands before you. You push, and push, and push; but with one more push you break free. You find yourself running so fast it feels as if nothing can stop you. Then again, you are taken by a sudden arrest. You fall to a grave of despair, leading to the undertaking of climbing. Grabbing hold of the loose soil only to gain no foot. Your mind weary, your heart stale. You see wraiths obscure the light from above. Their looking down, smiling, you reach for them. They say no words, but you know, you know their eyes deceive you. But they place down their hands as if to aid.  All you plead for is escape; but you are the breeder of these phantoms, these ghouls. Still, you reach for them. Upon the taking of your hand; pulling you from the grave. They already conspired to treat you to the...

The Harshness Of Perfection Upon Regret I am relentless in the expectations of myself. Harsh you might say, the unwillingness to ever say anything is at my best. Always pushing my boundaries, but this desire, this need to always be striving for the next challenge, for this perfect picture of victory. Thwarts the happiness that lies with me.    I fail in the honoring of my sacrifices, my accomplishments, which leaves me burdened, hollow in each victorious stride. It leaves me in a petrified state of being underachieved. That nothing I do is worthy of my praise nor others. I cloud myself in a vast empty hall, cold with breath, as I pull words from thin air. Hoping these will be the words that excite me. The words that will drive me to the bliss I seek. But this anatomical rock of life agitates me of any wishes to sit still. To confine myself to the pleasures of my doings, too much is at hand. And time stands still for no man. And I, regretful of my past, still hang ...

Message me on  Facebook A Moment In the Middle East A scorching sun canvasses the grounds. Flesh becomes its victim, sweat pours with no end. As if envious in seeking air. Eyes watchful of the distant, heads on a swivel. Hearts race in anticipation, crowds walk as adrenaline pumps. The smell of gun powder stifles the nose. Tight grips upon steel, chambered brass. Sands flood the lungs, faces smeared in exhaustion. Thirst grips the throat, thoughts of home fumble the mind. Focus, focus, focus. Distant shots, a setting sun, strange beauty comes to life. Barren lands seeping in anger, pointless in attempt to save. Lost, young, raged in empty hours of this land. Brothers shoulder to shoulder, but for what? The eyes become useless as night arises from its chambers. Stars shower the blackened sky, the moon flaunts its elegance. Eerie becomes the view, shadows dancing between street lights and stars. Wind gusts with a warm kiss. Now hues of green become the view. Skewed in...

Want more?! A Man's Traveled Heart A Cheater To The Cheated   This was not supposed be, you were not meant to cry. My greed to boast my status led me to tear you from your soul.  We were not supposed to fall to the spoils of temptations and sewn lips. Never should I have carved your heart from your breasts, as if meat for my hunger. Never should I have allowed such tears to flow from you. Never should I have wiped you off my heart like soiled tissue upon the sole of my shoe.  I knew the damage I would cause, but like a lion to its prey, I cared not for the repercussions of the other.  I felt no shame in the moment, for I had drowned my heart, my soul, in the spirits of man. Keeping all sense of purpose from of us, from ever seeing life. Maybe, we were never designed for the moon, nor the rising sun. You deserved a horizon of beauty, but I gave you a view of death, of the rancid damned.  A view with mountains built of shame, of faithless prid...

Don't forget a copy of my book A Man's Traveled Heart Thoughts Will Bring Pain  Tap tap, do you hear that? The tapping of thoughts, the eagerness for them to flow. To break the walls from your broken heart and become full. To escape the meddling of their existence.  Stifled in their exuberance for far too long. They wish to be heard, to be felt, to be open to the world that some wish never to breathe.  But that I say, is because those are the ones, who contract their dreams to size of their nails. To listen with anxious appeal, never to dig them from the ground. To leave them behind the walls of fear. Only to have them tickle the senses of life, from time to time. To have them whisper like frightened children from the torment of monsters beneath their bed.  Thoughts bring much joy and much pain, but one who traps them like foul rodents. Will never find them to be joyous. They will only pout with black tongues and tears of tar. Sticking to a na...

Follow me on  Twitter A Thorn In A Letter  There is a letter that sits atop my heart, but is hidden in a drawer. A letter of love that was stained with my tears upon a broken heart and drying veins. I wrote with passion though we were nothing more than thorns to flesh. But each thorn holds a rose, does it not? But we never planted our roots in the same garden. My fear soured what could have been, leading us, never to bloom. And in the shadows of my whiskey filled nights. Where my heart would slumber and my tears would bleed. I found myself, with ink in hand spilling words of regret, of romance, fantasy, and rage. And along this letter came a weeping heart, holding a tainted bud that grew ill before the summer. Only to wilt upon futile attempts to make us whole. But winter came, suffocating any hope for a dream. Bringing a frozen tundra of empty mountains that grew stale to the eye. They became hidden in the dismal view of my pocketed heart. Locked away in a box ...

Forsake ourselves. The moon is true beneath the stars, But the falling of the season will follow. Hearts will gather in pain whether sun or rain. There is no place of earth that holds an infinite peace. But the ever changing of our souls. The expansion like the blooming rose in the start of spring. The dew that settles upon each gentle blade of grass A story to be told and a story to behold. There is no place that will forever give you happiness, It is a constant battle but a battle that is worth more than the metals of earth. There is no power, be it God, the universe, or those we love, That will forsake us. For we lead ourselves to be forsaken. We give in to a single tear and each after, We fall for our own tricks but play them like a joker. Placing cards up our sleeves to play on others to hide our pain. Hiding within the frosted grounds of winters tears as if  we are dead, We crystallize our hearts with each lie We die with ...

What I Wouldn't Do Differently, We all go through times when we make a decision and at that moment we accept it, we act upon it. Then, after that moment or maybe, days, weeks, months, down the road we regret the decision. The action we chose that we regret, can often burn  for long time. And it will burn in any kind of weather. Leaving our soul scarred with a charred memory we wish to forget.  But we find ourselves lost in the constant loop of playing that moment in our heads on a looping reel and think what we would have done differently, should have done.  There is nothing quite like the feeling of regret. It’s like having an itch on the bottom of your foot while you are wearing your shoes and not matter how hard you try you can't scratch it. It only becomes more noticeable the more you try to ignore it. Till finally, you take off your shoe and scratch it and instantly you get this gratifying satisfaction of relieving  your foot of the annoyance. You have an...