Longing

Dreary, dreary, beat down, and weary is all I’ve know for far to long. I long for life and warmth and lightning, a taste of excitement and love.

Alas I’m alone and weary, beat down and dreary, with not to smile for.

I’ve walked in circles all this time, afraid to be in love, now I long and crave that warmth, that loving touch, that feeling never to be known.

For I am alone, beat down and oh so dreary with not to smile for.

AND IM BACK!

Nothing new, been busy, getting into college and what not. HOWEVER! I’m starting to get my ideas bouncing around and being all chatty so I’ll probably have something to write….eventually soonish kinda, I hope.

Working on the whole poetry book idea tho, it’s taking a bit but it’s started at least. Also started editing some old stories in the same world setting, the whole huntsman World of Pandora thing, and setting up a short story series book kinda deal.

So ya, not dead, had a bit of lost faith in the whole me writing then I remembered well, I can’t not write, it’s not me, and while it sounds stupid, I am very much myself, and as such, I’m a writer. Hopefully not one who should hide his work in the attic so it doesn’t burn someone’s mind to dust, but at the end of the day, that’s just part of me, even if it is bad, hehe.

Well, thats it, thanks for reading, thanks for being here, hopefully I’ll have more for all of you wonderful people soon, and well, I hope you feel wonderful, you should always feel at least semi wonderful, maybe not quite fine AND dandy, but at least fine or dandy. (If anyone gets that you’re amazing, and have awesome taste in comedians)

Have a good one, be it morning, afternoon or night, have a good one!

Laterz

Bren

Seams

I could scream, stuck with in this dream, so frustrating, so infuriating.

It makes me want to rip you apart at the seams.

You see, my dreams are nightmares from which I can not run, there is no fleeing from this cruel dreaming.

I could scream, stuck with in this dream, this awful seeming. So frustrating, it’s infuriating.

Oh how I want to tear you apart at the seams.

To make you hurt, to make you bleed. To hear you beg, that’s my true dream.

Yet here you stand, unhurt, un-scarred, healthy and never once marred.

Your soul is white, your body clean.

Here I stand stuck with in your dream. How it makes me hurt, it makes me want to scream. I burn and burn and tell you I’m just fine, how I’m ok.

It’s infuriating, this desire, this fire that makes me want to tear you apart at the seams.

Here I stand, my nightmare come true, my smile on my face is the image you rue.

You screamed and screamed while I laughed and played. It infuriating, being stuck in your dream.

So I did what I wanted, what I had to do, I stained your soul, marred your form. I did as was asked and norhing more.

I tore you apart at the seams.

Now your pained, and broken, stained with your own blood.

Now you know the pain, that awful burning, to simply want to scream, stuck with in my dream.

I tore you apart at the seams, and now you lie broken and drained, frustrating and infurated.

Tore open at your seams, stuck with in my dream.

How you want to tear me apart at mine. Though, my dear, it is as you fear.

This will be your one wish denied.

Those Waters

I see the water, it flows and glistens, streaming over rock and under stone. Oh how free it is, I only wish that I could be so.

Free to move, and just as pure, this clear water who’s flow is all it knows. It does not wonder, it does not worry, it just goes and goes. Over rock and under stone, how free it is, how I wish that I could be so.

I see the water, it flows and glistens, streaming over rock and under stone. Oh how free it is, I only wish that I could be so.

I see myself, on those heights, arms out stretched over that rushing tumble, those white waters I envy so. I want to jump, to plunge and surrender, give myself to the flow that rushes over rock and under cold stone. So I jump and as I do, I realize my sin, my grave mistake.

I no longer see those waters, no longer clear, though they stream sill over rock and under stone, they are murky, with blood and bone.

That Ever Fleeting Sound I Heard While I Was Sleeping (best read in an increasingly more frantic tone, caps are important here actually)

I awaken from my slumber, silently seeking, that ever fleeting, that noise I heard while I was sleeping!

I see them them reflected their, their mournful gaze, that dreadful wail, what could they be?!? What could they be?!?!

I need to know, I must find out, so silently, I continue seeking that ever fleeting noise I heard whilst I was sleeping!

That dreadful noise, that terrible wail! I WILL find them, reflected there, I continue to see them in that glass, their empty eyes that rotting flesh, what could they be?!?!

WHAT COULD THEY BE?!?! I NEED TO KNOW I WILL FIND OUT, SILENTLY SEEKING THAT AWFUL NOISE THAT EVER FLEETING WAIL I HEARD WHILE I WAS SLEEPING, I MUST FIND THEM, I WILL DO WHAT I CAN, TO SEE THEM NOW AS MUCH AS I CAN, WHAT COULD THEY BE??!?!

THIS EVER FLEETING NIGHTMARISH CHILD, THIS CREATURE OF EMPTY DREAD AND THOSE LOST AND FORGOTTEN DEAD! I HEAR, I HEAR THEM, AND I FEAR THEM NOT! IT IS NOT THEIR FAULT THIS WORLD LEFT THEM, CAUSED THEM TO ROT!

I SEE THEIR WOUNDS AND HEAR THEIR CALL, THAT SOUND I’M SEEKING, THAT EVER FLEETING NOISE  I HEARD WHILE I WAS SLEEPING! I SEARCH AND SEARCH AND HEAR THEM STILL, THEIR CALL A SIREN SONG THAT LEAVES ME STILL!

WHAT COULD THEY BE?!?! WHAT COULD THEY BE?!?!

I SEE THEIR GAZE, REFLECTED THEIR IN MY OWN REGRETFUL STARE, LOOKING AT ME WITH IN THIS MIRROR, I NEED THEM, I BREATHE THEM, I’LL FIND THEM I WILL, THE ONES THAT MAKE THAT EVER FLEEING SOUND I HEAR! THE ONES THAT SING IN PAIN, THAT DREADFUL WAIL, THE SOURCE OF THE EVER FLEETING SOUND I HEARD WHILE I WAS SLEEPING!

THE ONE FOR WHICH I WILL FOREVER, AND ALWAYS CONTINUE SEEKING!

Hey I can write again..and no its not happy. (Poem is untitled)

My soul is maimed, tattered and torn, it is only pain I know, no wish to gain, no drive to know, just a ceaseless void, and empty cold.

I clutch it close, this cold I hold, this life line to existence, the only way I know, the only way to live, to endlessly exist, to hurt and withhold, to be maimed and cold, to exist instead of live, no life to call my own.

My soul is maimed, tattered and torn, it is only pain I know, no wish to gain, no drive to know, just a ceaseless void, and empty cold.

This empty cold, this pain, this tattered soul, this my life, my home. With no love to claim, and no true home, I wander lost, with no wander lust, no drive to continue, no passion to warm my weary soul. I want to stop, I want to cease and end, for this life to be over.

I want to end, I want to stop, to stop the pain and end the cold, to no longer hurt, to no longer be so dreadfully alone.

The empty cold is gone, the pain no more, my life is fleeing, in this barren land, this empty waste, with no home to claim, no drive to wander I lay my head to sleep, to rest and cease, to cease to screaming inside my head, to quiet to pain of my spirit. I wanted to leave it, leave it behind and call it an end, so I stopped, I let my self be carried away, quietly into that dark. To know no more, this pain, this cold, this maimed and tattered soul I could my home, and oh so sadly, called my own.

Ugh

Work headaches and exhaustion, I should be able to have something to share soon, just, empty on ideas at the moment. Sorry everyone, have good one, day or night.