Micah Park Biffle

 Drown My Heart  Drown this heart! I scream as I plunge it beneath the depth of the ocean. Drown it till it can beat no more! It has no place here. For I am empty of any love, my senses are absent. As absent as breath is to death.  Let a corpse be my existence for the twinge of life I have allowed it to cripple me. But I have given no cane to my soul and no hope to my mind. Let the water suffocate what is left, what shall save me? Nothing, for I have swept myself clean of any desire to stand beneath the stars nor the moon.  Let me vanish from the sunsets. Let me be a shadow of every night and the shade of every morning. For this heart is miserable. It drips of tar, a blackness gripped in the bowels of misery. I bear only contempt for my actions, myself.  I have allowed fear to be my guide and have watched love fade because of it. So close I have been, so close to the warmth of love but, I am dirt flung upon any flame. And so be it, the silence of my...

Six Feet Deep  The gloom, the despair, the anguish of existence. Oh how woeful be my life, my ever fading soul. The darkness will consume as I be but a frayed wick upon its last flame before I am snuffed. Oh how dreadful this be.  This miserable undertaking of life, doomed, doomed, doomed we are! As doomed as the ant is in the grasp of a child.  Be that life? A child with naive and destructive intent? Innocence mixed with desolation of those beneath it?  There is no escape from our fate. We surely all end as does the bright colors painted upon our once youthful faces.   I can hear it already, the wind of death howling over the jagged cliffs, sweeping through the pitch of woods. Cresting over the rolling hills like an army marching with triumph. I can feel it, its cold hands wrapping around my frail neck.   My breaths forming to the bitter air about me. I can see deaths eyes glowing from the shadows of my thoughts. How terrible, how frightful, ...

  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....

   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 on...

A Whole Heart     How do you find the courage to be loved again? To be open to the risk of pain and torment? How does one become whole again in the adventure of love? What must be done to no longer be at the limits of your walls? What must I do?  I think this as I sit alone, picking at the pieces of my heart. Placing them upon a table, motionless. Pieces of something that used to flourish, prosper beneath the gentle cool of the stars. Carefully I prod and poke with the edge of a blade. Investigating the scars, the creases, the cracks. Every inch of every piece.   Hoping to find an answer, a missing link. A remedy of a broken heart. But all I can find are wounds, scabs that have churned grey and blood that ceases to pour. A crust like the earth has settled upon my ventricles. Clotting any chance of breath. My heart is merely a representation of what was.   A sad ensemble of horrific cuts. A collage of regrets covered in the misery of rejection...

 A Miserable Rhyme     This vastness how it frees the soul. The open plains and seas, carried by a beautiful breeze. One should weep at such beauty. But we are often taken by our own pity. Our eyes shut to what we should truly see.   We bear the ability, to be free, which may be a burden that breaks the mind with ease. If not taken for what we should be. Often buried to flee, beneath the shallow graves of our misery. But mountains scrap the skies, oceans hugs the shore but neither holds envy.   Yet we see another, and our eyes skew so angry, so cocky. For another has what we think is our bounty. And instead of reaching, gaining what we wish with hard work and glee. We tilt the bottle and pour ourselves some brandy. Muddling our hearts. Creating our vision to be cloudy.   Shrouding our soul till our body becomes too heavy. We fall to dark empty allies, searching for bitter pieces we can blame. Building an army of boozy pleads in an explo...

 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. ...

 The Endeavors shall Reward  Its is easy to fall behind, to let things get away from you. One minute you are ahead and the next, things come crashing down. Now you are in a rubble of stress and trying to compile everything to where you can at least start to organize.   Then, when you start to organize, you realize you have missed a few more things. You fall behind  even more. Anxiety starts to manipulate your thoughts into wild distortions. You now feel even more stressed, for a moment you thought you were almost back in order.   But a wolf came by, while you were busy rebuilding your barnyard only to find that sheep missing from your herd. You find the blood, but no victims. You now panic, as you have lost a piece of your resources. You feel the world around you constrict like a rope tightening around your throat.   The clouds above turn grey, it begins to rain. You become seemingly uncomfortable. You want to break down, to fall apart and l...

An Exit to Paradise The pressure of today has gotten to me.  My job feels like an overbearing weight upon my back. The world feels as if it will never allow me to catch up. I feel my heart being thrust into the atmosphere like a rock hurdled into the sky. I reach for it, but my grasp is to slow. So I watch it blend into the shadows of space. It twinkles for just a moment between the darkness and stars, as if to say goodbye one last time. It's five O'clock, I can finally step out of my office and breathe some air.  I'm walking down the hall to the exit, I can see the exit only a few more steps and I'm free. The glass doors shimmer from the evening sun. Casting shadows beneath the trees just outside. I long to bask in such shadows with a drink in hand and nothing but the wind. But as I leave and my hand touches the handle of the exit a voice calls my name, "Aires!"  I want to keep walking  but I know who it is and I know they know I heard. I he...

   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...

It is Time To Let Go  It's time to let it all go. Pack the bags of the past, toss them to the river banks. Let them float away, never to be heard again. Let the mistakes that burden your soul find refuge in the clouds, away from the heart. Away from the prying eyes of pride and ego.  It is time to be bold in the fear of failure. To rise up against the howling winds and cut yourself a path to the highest mountain. Allow your wings to spread, it is time. It is time to let the faces of your misery be washed from your mind, from your soul.  You are moving on, the tears that now fall from you, are tears to keep going. To press beyond the apathetic dwellings of suffering, of tragedy. You are human, as are we all, set aside perfection, and seek improvement.  Put down the idol of the flesh and find idols of the heart. Preach to your soul, not your skin. Cleanse the bloodied floors upon which you walk. Allow the stains to remain as reminders, as are scars. Let the...

We Prepare Ourselves   We prepare ourselves in the rising sun or the sinking moon. We wake either in preparation of sadness or joy. Allowing the flakes of our agony to be our weather or the light of our hearts be our path. We prepare ourselves as we see ourselves.  Creating visions of rotting flesh or growing bones of strength. We sink or we rise with each waking morning. Sparking our day to begin, whether it be in the shadows of our pain or in the smile of our joy. We prepare ourselves with how we think.  We battle with instinct, to shrivel or fight. Allow burdens to be our predators or our prey. Shedding our fur to lighten our load, or hold dear to the dreary cold. We are what we design in the thrills of our being.  Lecture with care for the mind follows well. Seeking shelter from any enemy, even ourselves. We must learn to prepare for ourselves. We are quick addicts to pain but slow to happiness, to gratitude. For it is easier to crumble under pre...

A Forgiving Son "Do this, do that, be this, be that, why are you such a failure?" These were the words of his father every day. Drunk off his depression, his anger his dad led a life of secluded suffering. His son, the blunt of that pain. No reason for such animosity but the boys father was a reckless, unstable, emotional pinball.  His breath foul from drinks daily. His disability check from an injury from a public vehicle crashing into him, paid enough to cover the bills, feed himself, and buy drinks. His son gathered what ever left overs he could find.  Or he would scroung through the neighboring trash cans. The boy was kind, sweet, he never raised his voice to anyone, except himself. On some nights, his father would lay into the boy with verbal accusations and character attacks.  Other nights, his father would be too drunk to really speak so the boy would be victim to physical abuse. Slaps across the head ending with the slurring words of, "Why ...

A Cancer is No End  I'm cuffed, tied to reality. I am held to a strict limit of ability, today, that limit has been reached. Though I have no say in what happens next, I will not have idle hands nor an idle heart. I will be the stone from which you can stand on. Allowing a solid foundation, for I want you not to fall to the misery that has come forward. This tragedy is not the end, unless you wish it do be. Much more is to come, but only if you fight, if we fight. If we take in our breathes as if they are our last and charge. Taking aim at life and allowing the growing of flowers. Creating a theme of faith and turning it to reality. Bringing forth good fortune to the mind and casting our the filth that wishes to cloud you. I can only image the fear that is tempted your heart now. Crooked like branches from a wild tree. Springing from the belly of doubt as they rise from your soul. Slowly constricting your hope. But this will not be, for we will prune, cut, severe, era...

Your Heart is A Battleground   You're heart is a battleground. Wounded with misery, streaming down the corridor of your walls like paint drying upon canvass, a crimson hue. Echoes of warriors yell from the suffering you have beard and shall bear.   It beats with vigor but holds graves of many. Transformed in each battle you have lost something, but gained much more. Though you are a rhythm of pain, there is beauty in the gloom. The fields at which you fought now spread with golden wheat.  Eagles soar in the fresh winds in the feasting of varmints as you move on. Brave, unwavering to the endless bouts of suffering. Unsheathing your blade from the vanquishing of your enemies. You have  bled love from each wound and have filled the veins of your flesh with heartbreak.  But have fought your way to cleanse the polluted rivers of your heart. You have never been silent in the abuse of self, nor in scene of your enemies attempts to murder...

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...

Lift Yourself From Drowning  Sometimes, our world can become heavy. It can feel as if stones are chained to our ankles as we desperately struggle to swim to the surface. Our lungs become shallow, our breaths automated by stress, by fear. Repetition of hours click by like droplets of water as they fall upon our heads. We look to time, only to see four more hours of rigorous monotony left, before we are allowed the breaching of only our nose to the surface. Ending days in the cries of tears or in the silence of melancholy. Feeling dull, as if a forgotten antique taken by dust. Worthy of only a glimpse as we feel ourselves to be no more worth than what we receive after two weeks. We collapse to the mundane, to the emptiness and shroud ourselves in temporary bliss. Coating our hearts in drinks, screens, and other pleasures of flesh. Only to wake in a shroud of numb echoes of bitterness, as the hours tick by before we must plunge our nose back to the depth of the ocean. Hold...

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...