Anatomy of a Brain

...And beneath all the mud and the screaming, there was a city of forgotten children. They stood thick, like a forrest. And like a forrest, made no sound and did not move. They simply looked on, pale ghosts, condemning the world which left them behind, doomed to a life of solitude. Trapped in their own silence.
And should one fall through the mud, past the screaming, and beyond death, the children would surround them and gaze. They would see past the skin, through the eyes, and into the soul, and that one should cry out with all the rage and fury of a dying star. But the sound would be dampened by the masses...

**

DARKNESS! DARKNESS! Make it stop! A black cloud in my brain brings the thunder and the lightning. It pulls me from this world down to the next. The nether. I can feel the demons' claws 'round my brain, gripping tight and scratching down. But I can not see them. I can not name them, but in my mind. To give it a name gives it credence. To give it credence makes it real. To make it real is unbearable.

Now alone and naked, I lie, fetal, in the forrest. I move not, except to breathe. Fear seals my eyes. I hear a noise like the noise that began it all. A noise like despair hiding in the pit of your stomach. A noise with no echo. A bump in the night.

I spring from my bed of dirt, desperate to stop the noise. This time I will solve it. This time, but what if...What if the noise is a shadow which takes me deeper? Fear seeps even further as I run, cutting my bare skin on the claws of trees. I run and run until I stop before the cause. And it is a joke, played by Puck. Just a noise, vanished in the night. And once again, I curl on the dirt-woven floor. And I cry. And I sleep.

It's Not Emo If it's Real

as dusk breaks day

and night swoops in

it's dark cape twirling 'round,

the village it sleeps

as the sky above weeps

for you are not here to be found.

toll the bells high

and search the ground low

surely you have not yet fled.

but as dawn does approach

and the sunlight encroach

it seems certain to all - you are dead.

so now there is pain

there's an ache in my soul

i swear you have left me too soon.

for as wise men can say

and fools squander away

our love was just beginning to bloom.

Fire Sign

Holidays are the Hardest, Or So They Say

Happy 4th of July. Relatively. Not to complain. Not to mope. Not to...whatever you're thinking. But they do say the holidays are the hardest to deal with after a loss. You might think that the 4th of July isn't a big deal - not like Thanksgiving or Christmas - but in my town, we go all out for the 4th of July, and I had plans...we had plans. And honestly, that's one of the most difficult things for me to deal with - all the plans I had to give up on, all the dreams, and hopes that centered around that one person being alive still.

None of this is meant to belittle or negate the pain that I know many of us are feeling right now. Pain. Anger. Sadness. I know we are all going through something. I also know we're all going through something different. And for some reason, I'm not really able to talk about it, so I write. Part of me hopes that me writing all of this comforts the rest of you. But most of me just needs to get it out.

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

Doesn't that feel good? Even just in your head?

AHHHHHHHHHHHHH! FUCK! AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHH!

Yes. That helps doesn't it? That helps me when I see the fireworks and think of his smile. That helps me when I think of his ears and his nose. It helps when I think of his kindness, and his laugh. I yell and I curse and it helps. Not much helps but that seems to.