Judgment Day

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Run.

White wraiths across the rocky ground

Like foxes to their burrows.

Run from death’s heralds as they watch

From hidden places

Behind barren trees,

Appear up from the soil,

Black clad figures, ragged robes abrading the ground,

They follow

With skeletal hands outstretched

To snatch life away,

Unforgiving predators chasing pale, flightless birds.

 

Run.

Chase the pill with the bottle,

The needle into the vein.

Fly the high to heaven’s gate

Till hell brings you back again.

From hidden places,

Behind dumpsters and cardboard boxes,

Appear ghosts from fevered dreams.

No life everlasting,

Mortal flesh decaying,

We lay on marble thrones,

As the wind whines through our bones.

 

*this is what happens when you begin writing a zombie story while listening to Sia’s Loved Me Back to Life.

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Where the Scars Don’t Show

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Red screams fill my blue skies,

Anguish overflows these tortured eyes.

In my world of truth

There’s a river of hurt left by you.

 

Cut me, and I bleed down to the bone,

Stitched-up heart with broken-glass hope.

Leave me here upon that desolate shore,

To live, to love, nevermore.

 

Let the ravens come now and pick me dry,

No more living in a world built on your lies.

Beyond love’s desire-colored veil,

Beyond your reach, there I will dwell.

 

*I always say that words have power…and some words are meant to cut deep. I’ve found that, once the invisible “blood” has dried, there’s an emptiness, a hollowness, a numbness that descends upon you. Whether it’s a respite for healing or simply limbo until the next verbal offense comes, I don’t yet know. But that’s where you can find me tonight.