The echoes of seasons

 I watch as my dreams dissolve into the uncaring world. 

I watch the oak gently reaching for the sky, its open palm lay open, fingers outstretched, gathering bronze. Hail autumn, your winds have reached me. They are gentle, fatherly, easing nature into the inevitable change to come.

The linden aroma crumbles amidst the seeds of harvest, and so work and toil has to begin.

Fittingly, I reap what I've sown. Loneliness, longing, lust. I harvest lessons from the deathly shell of my ego, my soul, my shroud of lies. They've bloomed into an abyss of no margin.

The wind rustles my leaves and I'm left feeling its unfairly gentle to me. Of course I'm but a sapling, so it doesn't matter.

The water is gentle, the wind caresses, the birds are calm, and I even find a way to smile, but I feel so damn close to looking too deep into the black. My 27th autumn, and I hear all the echoes, its melancholy is gripping. And I find myself as I've always been.

Popular posts from this blog

Years ago...

Fairly large an empty hall with two satin seats. You were on my right, leaned back against your own vertical spine, I was as well. You were watching the show from afar, seemingly attentive but rightfully distant. With the corner of my eye I was observing your every twist. Your torso twitching, in spasms of emotions, I took note of each and every one. I loved living through your breaths, having completely forgotten about the show in front of us. Distant... frigid.  I could have almost reached you, but my nerves were caught tangled in versions of what could be, whose instant happiness guarded our skin from ever meeting. Perhaps it's in the pain of having lost a battle. What drove me on my knees with my guitar in my hands screaming "Scorch" to the tip of my lungs. As i lay in bed that night, pain overgrew me, consumed me, i had no wall. Neither did I wish to have. Now I can recall my body twitching with your same spasms of emotion. I borrowed your sublime I could not rea
Read more

Heroic Forget-me-nots

That harmonic struck just when the tram hit the rails. The restless phone call has yet to end, and my security has yet to be renewed. My first programme lies waiting for the world to see... But it's not finished yet. Phone call ends and the sun sets. Sunset colors... one of the last things to allow me to act like a normal person. I've grown wrinkles under my mask, it's time to let the wind straighten the old paperfolds threefold. When he comes home, he won't be noticing me. I'd be left a discontinued spike in his eternal timeline, I guess I should apologize. Even so, it all appears melodic, with just a mellow touch of reverb from the chamber of crimson walls and biology books. The tram hasn't passed in a while. I wonder if it's still up to get me... But it won't matter. If I don't get to live forever, at least the answers I long for will take me to my end. Answers are really all I need, confirmed over and over and over again. Actually it's jus
Read more

I wish I could keep writing forever

I am angry now. Really angry now. Been swearin for 10 minutes. Not good. Need help. Need work. Guilt, I feel guilt. But I'm angry. paralyzingly angry. Or something. Will not succumb. Prison. Angry. Need relief. Cannot find. Won't lash. Need people. Do not bother. I am angry.
Read more