Moonlit Frenzy of the Dead

Tonight the dead rise above the ground to haunt

And remember by whom they have been wronged

Only briefly glancing, before turning away

The darkness foreshadows the terrors heading my way

The white blank faces appear with the frequency

Of blinking away sand from my eyes

But the grains continuously graze the surface

Till the crimson drops of flesh are too common to dismiss

The pain, a momentary distraction, away the see-through dead

But neither patience nor conscience have I for those thinking

They themselves the only one misjudged, slandered, subject to trauma

And waiting in queue to tell a melodrama

“The car finally hulled to a stop

And for a long moment I couldn’t see…

The blood spattered into my face

And the liquid was too thick for me smear away.

My son was along for the ride

Screaming for mercy and for me

The bones broken from inside his tender body

Sticking out in places, striking his organs

The airbag blew out too far

Chocking and suffocating the innocent.

Till the gagging sounds

Stopped

The window shattered inward

Striking into one unsuspecting victim

Awoken from soft easy slumber

Into the living nightmare of pain

Five days

It took five days for people to find us

I

Watched him die.”

The faint whispers of words I must strain to hear

Scream for attention

But my reach does not extend that far

Or rather into that side of the steel bars

Passively shielding my stained-red eyes

I cannot sleep nor stay awake

The witnesses line in a line endlessly it seems

Till the mob consumes my conscious sanity and my dream

The Rise and Fall of

The waves wash softly

Onto the shore of the unspoken and

UNKNOWN

Carrying droplets to form a world

Of sweeping motion

Burying my heart alone

As the waves crash onto the beaches relentlessly

The secrets contained in the salty abyss

UNKNOWN

The sea has always terrified me

When the harmless pails of water splash onto my tear-craved face

Carrying lost words from places

UNKNOWN

The thought of being one of far too many sun-dried grains of sand

Makes me weep in sadness

The sea sees through my secrets

My fear of being forgotten

Wavering upon the edge of moments

The water takes no notice of my tears

Plopping with the ocean tides

And leaving only ripples

As my voice mixes into the

UNKNOWN

Recipe for Peach Pie

Half a teaspoon of pity for the peaches separated from the others

Another tablespoon of sadness for the wheat stripped of colour

Two dashes of regret for the lemons grown and lived sour

A sprinkle of hope for the yummy taste to de determined within the hour

The five teaspoons of sugar to make the heart all better

And just to be sure…

A few walnuts to harden the sympathy for the soon-to-be eaten

So the feeling of remorse can easily be beaten

One more pinch of cinnamon to spice up the day

And a bit of salt to melt the coldness away.

Half a bite of joy for the boys and girls baking it

And eating it

A bigger bite for the children

Who fight and bicker over it

An hour to make peaches into pie

An hour to devour peaches made into pie

An hour to savour the peaches devoured in the pie.

The Road

White

Dashed

Lines

Lead into the endless possibilities

Of endless adventures

And endless discoveries

Of self and world

The long awaited trip back

Is met with easily solved arguments

Into much needed laughter

To peel away the stress

Layered onto of one another

From the tedious days of fighting for more

But the

White Dashed Lines

Turn into

White Solid Lines

Still signifying my fragile boundaries

Of fragile promises

And fragile rules

For me to follow and you to expect

Scared

Soft murmurs have quietly exploded into the air

Fireworks illuminating the cold winters

Of my worry

And FRIGHT

Gossip seems to travel faster than the speed of light

Never stopping to catch a breathe

Just dimming

Slowly

Painless anxiety chases down my dreams

Hammer and anvil are dropped down

From the heavens

Turning nightmares into reality

Who’s heard what?

When the story becomes a legend

And truth is swept

Over an ocean of whispers

The nails that hold my floating bubble

Catching the sparks from the brightly lit sky

Confuses me

And makes me doubt my reasons

If everyone believes the rumor

Does that version become reality?

And no one needs

To hear me

Summer is For FUN

I swear, being told education is never ending is one of the most unsettling things a student can experience. I'm at the point in life where I want to never hear anything unrelated to the actual process of living life. Knowing all the wonderful scientific facts and reading all the amazing English literature isn't going to improve my life, especially since my brain decides to forget all of the material the second I finish school anyways.

Like today when I couldn't even remember the words I read from the textbook a billion time the previous night.

UGH!

Endless Secret -- Cat's Eye FanFic

The endless space of a color that only appears to be blue. My eyes wonder aimlessly, staring at the details of the airplane. To my right, a hibernating man oblivious to the shouting and screaming of the passengers. The weeping of the women and children deemed the weaker specimen, file into a mob and exit to the front of the plane. They will be spared. After all, my friends are extremists of peace.

I am hurled onto the ground of the business class, warm from the frantic footsteps of the terrified people. Everyone remaining is told to “get down!”

They are not terrorists. They are not hijackers in my head. The familiar looking comrades simply completing a task crucial to the research I was a part of just yesterday. This is what they believe in. If speaking my opinion about the science I uncovered was a crime, then I would be criminal as well: a person without the right of forgiveness. Instead, I am to be a forgotten marble, buried under the bridge of the living. Unaware of my tendency to exist.

My colleagues in search of their own definition of “just” are now looking through my clothes for an electronic, my baggage for a clue, my seating area for an answer. The words that I was to present on to the scientific community are now scattered onto the ground. Those are not the papers they want. The wingless butterflies fall on top of a few nameless, faceless victims. But I am not a victim. I am the target.  The reason. The unwanted broken glass in the bottle of prized marbles.

I feel like an onlooker until an acquaintance picks me up off the ground.

“I’m sorry, Stephen.”

My research and speculations are unwanted. I am a danger. To the lives of the passengers who have the misfortune of sharing their plane with me. So I stand up and run. I won’t get far. It’s simply my distraction. Unlike the secret of the universe, which will spill onto the Earth eventually, the action of defiance belongs to me.  I open the painted door of the airplane that leads to a space without humans; the air without breathe. The coldness bites into my eyes shocked open far too wide. I close my eyes.

The men know they are after me and silencing my work. They know they must mimic the actions of a hijacking. They know the value of life. Better than anyone else.

To those people, I am only a common marble. Just like the marbles I found on the playground discarded by other children because they were cracked. I hid them in the center of the jars of puries and water babies and cat’s eyes. Even broken marbles deserve to belong somewhere.

I hear the ringing of the trigger and cracking of the finger and the silent whisper of goodbye. The aqua particles of water await my blood and bones; the moisture will be my resting place.

I fly.