Swallowed

 

Lunarterial

Darkness never secedes.

Under the cowl of the moons ominous light he conjured forth his deepest known terrors. Those that were summoned from the treachery of the night, bore no compassion nor sympathy. One of them speaks to me now, the one with the blackest of eyes. The putrid air of his breath sticking to my neck. Like a serpent his words slither into mind, poisoning my thoughts, conjuring serpentine emotions.

Even in broad daylight, is his power ever potent. Like a sniff of lingering marijuana, blowing from out his nostrils; snuffing out anything that defies his law. He comes to me in a haze. From out the shadows of a smoky room to speak to me. Never a deadly demeanor, nor ever are his actions obscene. They are simply malevolent. By nature. 

His actions ignore the pleas of self reflection and logical continuity. His movements create sputtering waves, blocking out worthless feelings and emotions. Ones that emit out from every petty human. They are givers, they are takers, mistaken, untruthful fools. Weak minded and with no purpose. Crush their will he tells me.

Like a cold tenebrous wind I blot them out from under the wintery midnight sky.

But come to me now if you wish to speak with the devil. For I hold venom on my tongue. Anger burns in my hand. Hold on to me, for I hold deceit in my heart. 

Unmask the veil that you hide behind. And unlock the truth that binds on to you. Like a parasite created by society.

Take action in the cruelest manner. Create ideas. 

Rise forth from a legacy forged in blood.

Take from this cup of wine and drink to your fulfillment. Let the thirst for darkness be unquenchable. Have those that peer upon you with willing eyes, scorched out of their sockets. For they do not know what you truly are. Nor of the iron that flows through your veins. Of the blasphemy upheld within the highest forms of government. Nor of other things....

A tinkering in the machinations of ones own mind is a sport. Feel the power surge up into your temples, let it emanate from out your hands, your body a vessel of true power. Your spirit, a whispering banshee of distorted malefic proportions. Let hunger overtake you. The hunger for something unknown, feed yourself into the void and lurk within the walls of Dante's Inferno. Become what you once would never become. 

And forge out of it a legacy of blood.

Let your presence be a thunderous boom. And your actions dictate the outcome of your petty life. For that is what it is when nothing is done. It is pathetic. You become a worthless animal. Captivated by unfulfillment and false fears. Give in to your thirst. Quench your fears and sate your yearning for something profoundly sinister. Let the blood spill on the floor. Let your fears overtake you and consume you, and release you. Caress the permanent darkness, live within its aura...

For this is of what a Legacy of Blood is carved from.

The night is dark... shadows caress me between the twisted trees that surround me. I look down at my trembling hands and I see blooding dripping down my arm, collecting at my feet. And all I can hope now is to leave this treacherous place. Even now I can hear their screams; echoing out of the darkness that consumes me. Their wretched whispers cackle out of the finishing of my one footstep, into the next. And I can feel them now. Crawling behind me, feeding on my unquenchable fears. But I look back and all I see are trees and darkness. 

Only the moon offers me light of passage. Finally I see the opening. Nothing but frozen land lies before me, I enter the clearing and look back at the woods. Hoping to never see the place again. And in the corner of my eye I see her hiding behind a tree, looking at me. Her illuminated visage scorching its unforgettable phantom figurine into my memory.

AFX

Syro

Waves will crash upon themselves. They are crafted from the same substance and it fills the oceans with a similar eerie sound. A similarity between each human being, crashing within each others boundaries. Like elusive bugs buzzing around each other, wondering and gasping and gawking.... gawking. 

Oh! 

How different we so are. Thoughts bouncing up and down within the confines of these walls. Smashing within the picture frames and tables-chairs, I sit squarely between her, over here and there. How could she read me? Did she? My shadows are vaporous but she knows where my enlightened being flies. 

Across nations and statutes, frisky like a frenzied lurker. Deserter. I move in the deserted lands where no one dares to look. Searching for some type of mirage, one that I know surely exists within my mind. Oh how I hope to make it come true. Like some mirage it is, in a dry arid land of customs and trivialities. Manners, how they encroach on me! When all I wish is to move likes waves, crashing into her over there. Hoping for something between us to coalesce, but how the stress eats away at her very curt dress ...

And in defense, I never dispense tense words that lend to an airy sense of immense drenching stress. Hence why I look here and there, for where I find knowledge I bare only to hold you there.

And you there, thine heir of some golden goddess whose hair flows like a rivers unkept self. Flowing out yonder, into the trees of translucence, how your words move in cadence with the fracturing edges of water crackling at your commence...

How I wish to know you more. But there are things in this world that I know. For I must conceal them, congeal! Reveal! For I am holding on to them now! Like important things that must be hidden from public.

Truths that I have come across that bear no true meaning. Or do they? A man of age holds on to these truths with assertion and confidence that he has earned them from the world. As if he learned them from the harshest of events. But is anything truly static? If not death that comes upon is like a divine light... so bright... and cold as winters night. I do not believe it. For the warmth that the sun brings to us , is my arbiter. 

And you still sit there, looking here and there once more. Oh how I should implore to you, with your decorative galore how you're eyes must be sore, mine never at your pretty lips moving once more.

And how they look at me, waiting to see my next improvised movement, living as if I had never done so before! As if humans were something new, a creed whom I just now knew.

Everybody is new. Maybe its curiosity that strangles me, in its tenebrous tentacles. Knowing that I do not know. But that even though, I know something about you, that you dont. How I feel like this for everyone sadly, nothing is extraordinary in the realization that we all live in the same fashion.

With extremities being part of the dilemma, but extremities are fun! 

Its like tangling with a certain death.

Who, are you. I ask with eyes open only to you. I see you in this class room of fewer than few, but when I look at you I ask you, whom are you now? Crowned with your knowledge at hand, how shall you handle chaos? Chaos of manners. Words of apprehension. Fingers fidgety to understand everything, consuming it all like a void within the middle of class. I am bound by my own egotistical crass, I fall face first into the bludgeoning thunder made by others.

And how laughter alone will suffice. How that very action, will suffice. But it could now or never   ever be harder to capture. In this slipping moment, drooling of sifting emotions and words of quick paced devotion, will I see you once more with my own feelings as they are? 

I want this, I want that. I want to see you, and you there, also you, and you too. We all would like so, maybe, in time, slowly and slowly it could occur. But we could all share it at once, like an enveloping hive of sharing information that is forgotten, no I will not forget it.

And even when it is forgotten will I not forget it. For a face like yours, is hard to forget.