Wearing A Way

I wonder, I wander away. A way away. Away we shall venture. Venture and wander away. But...where? Wearing away. Where has all gone? But...I only wondered. I wondered my life away. A way not to have been taken. Take it away. Take and take. Take me back. Back to the way.

I'll Paint For You This Red

Give me a pencil and I'll draw you the world.
With a pen, I'll change it.
Provide for me crayons and I'll color it happy.
With red, I'll draw the Lamb's blood.
With this red the world shall be painted.

Shakespeare's Enigma

With 2 teaspoons full of wishful thinking my words echo yellow and this gravity green tells of the Raven one summer's eve

The Abyss

Don't you see the nightmare blowing in?
Your sweet dreams are turning against you...
Devouring your existence

Wavering Eyes and Quivering Lips

The afterlife had always intrigued him. Well it was really just the passing from life to death, but he liked the sound of "afterlife". The different ways to die, he was always finding new and rather odd ways of lives ending. He would say that he is not in the least afraid of dying any of those deaths nor of death itself, and even his countenance indicated so.
Brazen Slumber. The Unquiet Alternation. Indefinite Tenant. He had called life and death many things.
But today his countenance wavered. Upon his disappointingly unexciting deathbed he no longer found the brazen slumber to be intriguing. Rather, its consideration in the situation which he found himself in caused his throat to burn as he swallowed and a tear trickled down his right cheek and found its way to his lips.
No longer did he look forward to that moment of passing because he now realized that there is no turning back. Death is permanent. And how do we know there is nothing waiting on the other side?
He glanced at the flowers on his bedside table. The beautiful, vibrant colors clashed with his emotions and caused more tears to slide. The man thought of all the amazing sights and sounds and smells, everything, he had experienced in life, and came to a sudden and final realization. Whereupon he whispered his final words, seemingly to no one, but he knew there was One who heard even him.
His slumber had come, but the few seconds before it did were the most important of not just his life, but of his entire existence, and they allowed him one last smile through his last sobs.

Ascending the Dark Stairway...Sh-shall We?

Thriving has become mere surviving
And sometimes a wet cheek is better than a fiery heart.
But the tears flow from the broken heart.
So either way, our hearts are harmed
And naught we do shall mend our souls.

The Absence

The darkness creeps in between the floor boards.
The walls creak under the weight it brings.
It floods the room, putting all out of proportion.
It causes confusion and insanity.
Sounds grow loud and suspicious.
Imagination creates movements,
And fear takes over.