Hi, My name is Micah Park Biffle, I am the author of ' A Man's Traveled Heart,' I am a Veteran who found in understanding of my self through writing. I consider myself an architect of the imagination. Here you will see my creations come to life. My short stories, poems, my thoughts, and a little touch of my life. (I AM SLOWLY MOVING OF BLOGGER< FOR NEW STORIES PLEASE CLICK THE "MEDIUM" LINK TO THE LEFT)
There is no finding dreams in the light.
Sometimes dreams are in the dimmest places
-Dreams Are Nothing-
He stares far into nothing,
Looking for something,
Always searching for that which is missing,
But never finding.
No matter how far searches,
How close he gets,
He finds nothing,
His senses are choking.
He tastes nothing,
He smells nothing, not even the budding of flowers,
But he keeps chasing.
Chasing, Something that cannot be explained,
Something that gnaws upon his barren existence,
Something that itches like the scab of flesh
An aching churns his spirit, he swings from a thread of domestic clashing.
He is bursting with imagination,
But Hurting in creation,
A dreamers dream, but horrors embracing,
He searches the deepest ends of his heart,
Still he becomes lost,
Still he finds the misery of the empty, finding his tongue upon cursing.
Something calls but he cannot discern its voice,
He finds shadows of his former self,
Screaming for love,
Screaming for something
Something that burns in desire,
His eyes tantalized by an internal void,
Weary of the journey,
His mind begins mocking.
Innocence has been bled bare,
Murdered in a lake of tears,
A lake which drowns his soul and leaves him for the foul cradling of suffering.
Displaying the corpses of his dreams like trophies of murder.
He fears there will always be nothing,
He fears that nothing, that nothing may be his life's perpetual meaning.
-Have you ever felt like your dreams are an endless chase into nothing?
A Wanderers Inn I have been traveling for thirty days. My horses are weak and I thirst dearly for water. My belly aches as hunger constricts my gut. I am fearful of death in such an unsuitable way. I have always seen myself dying in daring act of life. Be it in war or the saving of a child. Or maybe, even in the defeat of a dragon as I get one last blow with my blade before it strikes me down and it falls to its death beside me. Feeling its last breath of heat roll over my body as our eyes see only our fading souls. I have always thought my death would be glorious. Yet here I am, traveling alone with no more rations, nor water. My horses no longer walk with fervor but lackadaisical steps. And so I pray to find shelter before the cold takes us. Before the empty plains of barren trees and darkness finds us. I wish not to be detritus before my days. Decaying slowly to the maggots as my body lays helpless upon the earth. Becoming a gruesome vision of what lies inside. B
The Moles Never Learn I found myself walking in the snow, my head aching with a sharp pain. I feel the back of my head, there is something crusted upon the rear of my skull. I dig my nail carefully into it. I can feel the crust collect beneath my nail like dirt. As my feet trudge through the sixteen inches of snow I look to my nail and there in my nail is blood. Dried cells of my body. Upon seeing this I become confused with worry. I place my hand once again upon my bloodied skull and began to examine it. I slide my index finger like the bristle of a broom, back and forth trying to see what wound had allowed such blood upon me. But after several seconds of feeling about, I find nothing. No scratches, no lacerations, nothing. My worried confusion musters down to mere confusion. I rub my eyes as I am strangely held with a slight daze. As if I have been interrupted from a deep sleep. And the evening air is not helping my situation. I am comfortably wrapped for a day tr
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. Their souls weep dearly a