Corners scare me, particles of broken dreams accumulate in the tiny, hopeless crack splitting space. I chose for myself the farthest away from agony. Lying motionless with my face pressing hard against the cold flooring, I felt closer to my roots digging deeper into past's forlorn tales of regret.
"They found me"
Years of silently sealed gashes hovered over my head. Not again, I heard myself utter. Let Acklys deluge me with her mist, I've longed for her fragrance to usher me into an alley, closer into her gentle arms. Spritzed flasks of nepenthe to chase off the figmental enemies away, far, far away from my contused spirit. What could stop the blaring voices bouncing off the walls?
"They silenced me"
A jolt of angst scampered me to a half shut door, I tried squeezing myself through, my whimpers couldn't be heard. Time is fickle, it tainted my jaw blue, sucked slowly on my lips to snaffle the last grains of hope I've hid. I was besieged, tossed like a feather to flutter in the wind and fate caught me in its palm.
"They trapped me"
Darted me back and forth through hell, crammed me in corners, choked my will and stabbed me repeatedly till I begged for one more slice across my chest.
"They changed me"
I've bartered for peace, drew blood every fortnight and fed it to the broken winged visitors. One looked pale, one hugged me tight before locking me in an open cage as I waved them goodbye and another had raw innocence I couldn't place.
"They loved me"
The shadow of Acklys stood tall at the door, weaving the night sky with her muffled chants as she held her arms wide open. I sank deeper into my corner, pinned my ear to the wall, sliced my wrists and scraped my knees in vain.
Acklys is a Greek goddess, she is known to represent the mist of death. It was told that her mere demeanour could send shivers down your spine, not a pleasant looking one for sure. ___________________________________________________________
I want to murder my notebook Just to see if it goes to Heaven or Hell. Would an Angel find her sister's Halo Broken between the lines? Would an Angel find the revisions I made With her mother's wings? I bet they would judge my taste in women But never acknowledge how hard it was To swallow. I bet they would tear the pages and hear her Whisper my name. I bet they would see a Piece about her Was a piece of me, My notebook wouldn't make it past the Judgement... I bet it would go to Hell, And the Devil would recognize her name By the way the cover was crucified. I bet he would read it at the next open mic, I bet he would plagiarize my writing And say he wrote it first. I bet he would send it back to me with his revisions Just to say we was on the same page...