Always, always (not a poem)

Ron: Hiya, Harry!
Harry: Ron. Fred. George. What are you all doing here?
Ron: Rescuing you, of course! Now, come on, get your trunk.

    And with that, I start to hear a slow grumbling outside of his own window. ‘It can’t be,’ I thought to myself as I turn slowly to my right and stare into two bright headlights gleaming back at me. I looks at them, then back at the television screen where at this very moment the Weasley’s are rescuing Harry Potter from his unhappy room and his unhappy life, and do a double take right back to the familiar car floating outside.
    ”It’s just as I’d imagined…” I whisper as I gaze in amazement at the flying car, with every seat taken by Ron, Fred and George, and Harry, one seat left open in the back.
    The car took a slight turn to it’s right and lined up with my bedroom window. As soon as it got close enough, Harry opened the back door, leaned out, and pulled off the screen out of my windowsill. I just stood there, staring at them, at the Ford Anglia, at Hedwig perched on one of the seats, at the Twins, at Ron, at Harry. Harry, his lightning bolt scar, black ruffled hair, broken as always glasses, Harry Potter.
    ”Well come on then!” Ron said in a kind of shouted whisper, loud and deep enough to show impatience, but soft enough as to not wake any neighbors or draw any attention from any passersby.
    I took one step forward to the open windowsill. “But… You’re all real?” I asked, questioning what must have been a dream. “Of course we’re real!” Harry responded. Harry. Just Harry. Harry Potter. I couldn’t wrap it through my head.
    ”You want me to go.. in the car.. the flying car.. with you lot?” I questioned again.
    ”Come on you numpty,” George said, or was it Fred, “we’ve got quite a ways to go if we’re going to get to Hogwarts in time!”
    I gaped back at them, walking forward and reaching my hands onto the sides of the window about to climb out. “What about my things?” I inquired. I hadn’t packed anything for any sort of trip just yet. “Don’t worry,” Ron responded with a smile, “there’s still time to stop by Diagon Alley before going to school, and Harry here’ll help you out with purchasing your things since you only have muggle money.”
    I turned around, not even glancing at the television where Harry, Ron, and Hermione were wandering the streets of Diagon Alley, looking around my room to try and figure out if there was anything I really needed to bring with me. I decided against it, although I grabbed whatever money I had lying around my room. Even though it wouldn’t do any good, I still felt like I could give Harry whatever I had in hopes that there was a sort of Muggle to Wizarding money currency exchange somewhere where the shops were. It was the least I could do to try and repay him for what he would be getting me.
    I stopped before turning around, though. I was worried that when I turned around that there would be nothing there, that the screen would be in place, the window empty. No Harry, no Weasleys, no owls, no flying car, no magic. Just me and my normal life. In fact, I didn’t even turn around, I walked straight to the bedroom door to leave my room. I had just grabbed the doorknob and was about to leave when I heard someone clear their throat.
    ”And what do you think you’re doing?” Harry said with a smile as I turned around to see everything still there. Magic was real, wizards were real, it was all real.
    ”I just didn’t think any of this was real,” I responded as I walked back to the window, change in hand, “I couldn’t see how it could possibly exist, I thought it had to be fake, my imagination. I guess I was wrong.”
    ”Of course you were wrong,” the Twins exclaimed at the same time. Ron spoke next, “This is all real!” I smiled back at them, tearing up slightly.
    ”Come on,” Harry gestured me to come into the car, “You can’t forget now, You can’t forget. It’s all real, it’s always real. We are real, and we will always be here, and Hogwarts will always be here to welcome you home. Always.”
    And with that, I put my hands along the window, put one foot up, and pushed myself out of my room and into the car.

your glasses

Those glasses
they haunt me wherever I go
they follow me, they stalk me
I watch them change from person to person
but they are always the same
whose they are, I do not know
when they started, I could not remember
but those glasses follow me
they break through my soul
they shatter me
everything shatters around me
the squares, triangles, circles
different shapes bursting at the seams
all the work of those glasses

they break me they haunt me
and the devour me they taunt me

they haunt me
they haunt me
just what do they want from me
what do you want from me
what do you fucking want from me

i am shouting and cursing
but the fucking creatures wont answer me
they wont respond
they just sit atop your nose
and stare back

the [this] plague is ok

i lay my body across the bed
reading the work of a man whom i do not know
i read a sentence
a sentence and a half
and see something
it's nothing
although i must do a double take
along my arm
a black ball rises
tempting me
but it is gone

i look, i examine
my arm is not harmed
it is normal
typical
it is ok

i read more
i try to understand
what is this creation
what is occurring
this thing, this feeling
something is flowing within me
somethings wants out
something terrifying

i look at my arm yet again
it is there this time
not out of the corner of my eye
no double takes
it is there in the flesh
it is there in my flesh

it's forcing it's way out
it's taking control
but i like it
i want it to take over
the blackness covers me
not a little black bubble anymore
more like the plague
overwhelming my body
my arm is completely dark
the soot colored substance reaching it's peak level along my skin

i place the booklet across my arm
ever fascinated by my churning colors
yet too disturbed by the writing to put that away
or is it the other way around
am i fascinated by the writing of this being
and disturbed by my needed appendage
either way i must focus on both

my head starts to ache
not hurt as if a migraine
but ache as if someone trying it's way out
it twitches
my head
as i rub my hand at it

now my arm feels it
it feels the ache
the ache is spreading with touch
and the booklet fuses into my limb
it's melts into me
the letters , the words, imprinting along my arm

my arm completely dark now
black as the soul
with the shimmering silver words gleaming outwards

i continue to read on

the skin ruptures
but i do not bleed
bleeding does not exist here
it is not allowed anymore
but the skin peels back anyways
the bone protruding
i do not feel it's pain either
but the bone climbs out
it's many legs pushing it up
the crevice turning to nothing
as the creature leaves it's soft shell behind

i am not reading anymore
i do not need to read anymore
at least, not the words that i was trying to take in
we must always read
but not this, not this
this is infused within me
i know it, i love it

the ache from my arm disappears
but it is not gone forever
just as the plague that invades my head
is not gone forever
it will be back soon
the creature will be back soon
but it will take the form of another
as my right arm is severed
laying on the bed next to me
next to the booklet that i was reading
next to my pillows, my sheets, my blankets

my right hand twitches
i reach up to itch my forehead
i reach for my glass of water
i reach for my book
once a being, left all on it's own
the right arm, my right arm, is not alone
it's still with me
it's never alone
it never leaves me
the bones only ache at times
the skin comes off
the creatures attack my thoughts
and my thoughts in turn attack you

but for now
it is all ok

smile back, and float on

i caress your body
as we tumble into my room
 giggling sweetly
not knowing what is about to occur

i pelt you with little kisses
soft kisses
deep kisses
rough kisses

the kisses start cute
but quickly turn quite powerful

i thrust you down upon my bed
and lay myself on top
not gently anymore
but almost forceful
although you do not seem to mind

you wrap your legs around my waist
vigorously gripping at my hair
patting, pulling, ripping out little bits
but i do not seem to mind

i sense a danger
but i stow it away
for even though i notice your clothes
melting into your body
your naked beauty distracts me, astounds me

i run my hands over every inch of you
leaving bloodied finger prints stamped everywhere

my eyes dart to yours
drawing me into this web of lust
as you rip right through my shirt
scattering it's remains about the room

as the passion grows
the danger is more obvious
but i cannot see it
for i love it

my fingertips have opened up now
as exposed wounds
leaking across your crevices

the pains seers my hands

your eyes, now black as night
overcome me
i feel no more pain
even as the scars appear along my body
they scab up, then begin to open
almost as if the gashes were un-healing
wounds in reverse

my body quivers with anticipation
as you roll over and pin me on my back
my pain does not hurt
the pain is not there
non-existent
even though with my own eyes i witness
my body draining

i can feel us flying
i can feel my existence floating
my being, as light as a feather now
i can feel your smile on my face
i can taste my blood on your lips
every time you press your lips to mine
and i can't help but smile back
and i can't help but smile back,
and float on

my hollow eyes

my hollow eyes stare at you
they blink
your perfect eyes stare at me
you blink

you wouldn't know it
but i am sobbing
lacking tears streaming down my face
as you could never love me

for my eyes are gone
non-existant
but not in the normal way
in the ever abnormal way

the holes delve into my head
like portals
portals to the darkest regions of life
hideous

i once read that the eyes are the gateway to the soul
so do you see my soul
my blackness
corrupted by humanity?

my hollow eyes stare into yours
even without them i can still see
you ever loving being
you are exquisite

your glorious eyes, glorious soul
look at me
they blink and stare
but ever lovingly

i don't understand
i don't get it
how could such a divine creature
love a soulless being as I

you reach out and lightly grasp my hand
as the pits of darkness on my head wince
I am not used to the touch of love
I am not used to kindness
but you are ever so caring
you love me
I do not know why
but I see it in your eyes, I see them in your eyes
even though I know only bleakness exists
I see the reflection of my big brown eyes within yours

the wonder and beauty of Sacrifice

I stand here staring
at this image frozen in time

the drunkard aiming the gun
pointing at the woman,
the innocence whose name unbeknownst to me
screaming, her terrified expression stuck

and the bullet
that one single devastating creation of man

I walk from the man to the woman
following the path of the bullet

her stomach
it will penetrate her stomach,
her bodily organs
she will die, painfully

this will hurt
but it must be done

I stand in front of her
gazing into her eyes
beautiful beyond the terrified expression
beautiful even with the terrified expression
the beauty not just physical
but the soulful beauty within her essence
makes the pain easier to endure

I step behind this amazing creature
so strong, so brave
whom will grow to do wondrous things
and sink my claws into her shoulder blades

her blood pours onto my hands
dark, deep
but the pain that I leave with her
is nothing, will be nothing
for that which it could have been

my soul moves close to her
moves into her
my being filling every inch of her body
until we are one

my wings protrude from the wounds on her back
just as life starts again

the man's eyes wild with anger
the woman's scream pierces the air
and the bullet pierces us
though as it passes through her, unharmed
it buries itself deep within me

my eyes begin to water from the pain
yet I smile, for she lives

the man drops his gun
as he sees my wings along her body
he thinks a miracle, an angel
and then they are gone as I fall to my knees
invisible
and I clatter to the ground just as the gun

I cry now
not from the pain
no the pain had to be felt
even though unbearable
no, I cry now
from the wonder and beauty of Sacrifice

vengeance is blind

there she was, once more
blessing me with her being

her short black hair
never looking "fixed" nor "prettied up"
her pale skin, pail lips
never once with once drop of makeup
her natural look
her natural beauty
always sends me to shivers
body and heart quaking

and her eyes
her eyes
a deep red, a blood red
filled with passion, lust

I bow before her as she steps forward
"get up" she whispers with a smirk

each step she takes
leaves a dark feathered trail
and a bloodied print
in the shape of her naked foot
never her blood,
though,
always that of the guilty

I stand up, face to face with serenity
she stares, smiling
each second she stares is another second I fall in love
I gaze back until my love is too much
I look away, clutching my chest firmly
My love for her burns with such a destructive force

"good" she says, her lips never moving
her smile fades away
her expression serious
"use that passion," she breathes into my thoughts,
"to finish it."

I nod slowly and reach
my fingers grip the crudely crafted blade
that has appeared in the grass
"I will always be with you"
she states, solemnly
and as I raise up to stand
she was gone

but not forever
as she stays within my heart
I feel her with me
even as I step into the unknown house
I feel her presence kiss my soul
even as I start to cut them
I do not remember who, why
All I know is what I feel

The love within
as hot as the boiling blood soaking me
I love her
I will always love her

And with that, I stop seeing
my sight is gone
but I don't need it to see my act of violence
my salvation
for as the saying, "love is blind"
so the saying goes for Vengeance

all that is left is your red cloak

I am finally in love
all my years
and I've finally found my love
our bodies so close
we touch just barely
our hands interlocked

I grip you tight, your perfect hand,
as we sit in the corner
feeling your body warmth
the warmth in the air, your aroma
and the warmth seeping along the ground

I gnaw at my unfinished supper
I offer you some
but you just sit and ignore
sit and stare
not into the distance
not into the present
you just stare at Death's sullen eyes

I squeeze your hand tighter
and try to tell you how I feel
but I choke up
my words are stuck in my throat
in my heart
I try but try is all I do

I wish I could cuddle you
to show you more affection
than that of a simple hand holding
but your body is already
all gone devoured, or bubbling up in the leftover soup
all that is left is your red cloak
which I wear
to remind me of your smell
to remind me of the beauty of love
and your hand
which I clasp once more
before bagging for a midnight snack

right in your storm

I stand there in the cavern. My umbrella twirls in my hand, I must relieve it from the rain. The pools of red swallow my feet as it rolls across the rocks into my safe haven. I do not like this rain. Your sorrows have filled the skies and crawled across into my plain. The blood drains from the heavens. Is it really heavens, for the despair that fills it does not describe such a serene place. I fold up my umbrella, stop looking at the ground, raise my head up high. One step, right into the puddles, right into the storm. The maroon colored devastation covers me. My hair plasters to my forehead. I look around, drenched. I'm here, right in the storm, right in your storm, covered in your blood, and I'm not going anywhere.

or

I stand there in the cavern
my umbrella twirls in my hand
I must relieve it from the rain

the pools of red swallow my feet
as it rolls across the rocks into my safe haven
I do not like this rain

your sorrows have filled the skies
and crawled across into my plain
the blood drains from the heavens
is it really heavens, though?
for the despair that fills it
does not describe such a serene place

I fold up my umbrella
stop looking at the ground
raise my head up high

one step
right into the puddles
right into the storm

the maroon colored devastation covers me
my hair plasters to my forehead

I look around, drenched
I am here
right in the storm
right in your storm
covered in your blood
and I am not going anywhere

thisrageisutterlydestructive

the pent up rage inside me
comes stringing along
at sudden and sporadic moments
killing everything in it's path
destruction and torment

ripping apart the happiness
ripping it
apart

why why
the best of lives
destroyed by emotion

whether it not be rage
instead hatred
sadness
passion
tis all destructive in it's own way

emotion
destructive emotion

it needs a filter
to slowly leak out
instead of ripping apart the fabrics of sanity all at one time without any warning whatsoever

until the very end

I'm moving on
I'm forgetting
I'm losing

I'm terrified

I can't
I won't

I may move on
but I can never leave

I carve your words
your meanings
into my body

I need you with me
forever
I need you to be with me

I'm afraid of doing this without you
I'm afraid I just can't do this without you
I can't live without you

you've carried me through life
taught me
protected me

I should go
I should be free, be me
but you are
will forever be
a part of me

just, please, stick with me
until the very end
and I will never leave
not completely

I'll be with you
until the very end

The People I Used to Trust

Awaken
with a sudden jolt of life
to the horrors

the entire building
dead quiet
quiet
and dead

gore and feathers
plastered to my body
feathers...
the nightmare!

the feathers trigger memories
of the terrors I've seen
my dreams last night
the monster
eating, devouring
everyone

flashes
the blood
the intestines
the bodies

these darkly images
flickering, dancing
before my eyes

it leaves a sour taste in my mouth

I can't clearly picture the beast
which makes him all the more terrifying
I see his clawed hands
ripping gashes
pieces of humans flying
splattered around the room

the images make me sick
the sour taste becomes more familiar
my stomach heaves
and I vomit
and the taste is ever stronger
as I see my mouth
tearing out the bones
of the people I used to know
feathers falling from my wings
as I laugh at their horrified expressions
as I vomit up the blood
of the people I used to trust

I laugh as I sob
as I look around my life
at the blood soaked work of art
that we have created

-

A poem a day keeps the demon at bay

My Skin, My Sin

I've ran as far as I could
kneeling on the ground behind a tree
as I pant for the breath
that I would not regain
his gasping wheezing noises haunting me
terrorizing me so much more
than the crackling of his feet

as he stalks toward me
I try breathing slowly
lightly
wincing from the pain in my back
I reach back behind me
picking out the feathers protruding from my shoulders

he sniffs as each tear drops from my cheek
I see him now
climbing towards me
dirt and soil falling from the wooden roots that pump through him like veins

he steps, standing in front of me
the blackness bubbling up
all around his taloned feet
I look up upon him as he looks down
he, too, has feathers falling
as though he were bleeding them out
the roots through his legs tense as his left foot jolts to my neck
he lifts me up
until I am face to face with this creature

his talons grip me
just hard enough to bleed my neck
while still allowing me to barely breath
my left hand reaches to my throat
my right arm reaches through his chest
my eyes reach into his eyes
his bleeding feathers dissolve into my skin, my sin
I know him.

-

It can be terrifying, confronting your demons

Ravaged. Yet, reborn

the ink slithers through my veins
pumping, flowing
exploding out through my pores
i stain the sheets, i stain the carpets
as i stagger out of my bed
and collapse to the floor
vomiting piles of blackness
i flail about within
splashing about
creating catastrophic blots along the walls
my organs heaving
clenched fists squeezing
the volcanic explosions never letting up
my ears, my eyes
oozing the darkness from all
i see it
i hear it
i taste it
i feel it
i am it
as the sunlight shines through the windows
breaking through the cracks of unpainted glass
my creations step forward
swallowing me whole
my convulsing body drops
tooth and claw marks, across my skin
i am ravaged
yet, reborn

my dark winged angel

she sways back and forth
beyond my eyes
behind them
waist up, covered in red
the color dripping
draping over her body

an itch in my hair
scratching the back of my head
the color of your jacket
covering my palms
pulsating, living

I'm bent backwards
as she steps out
zipping up the gash
that she left in my head
locking it up tight
but pocketing, not swallowing, the key

I can see her behind me
as she lowers her arms over my chest
her red hooded jacket
oozing down my body

I feel your chest, your laser operated vest
lightly heaving against me
with every breath you take

I turn around
turn around
just in time to glimpse you
your naked red hooded figure
gliding away in the air
your darkened feathers trailing
my dark winged angel
leaving me only a memory
and this diamond shaped ring

-

This is the artistic epitome of my current Muse. I love her.

Penny

she crawls around the top
like she's stalking her prey

my little cat

i don't quite get it
why she looks so fierce

she glares at me

"I need your help!"
I call up to her

ears perk up, "meow?"

yes little Penny
just climb down here

she climbs, slips, falls, tumbles into my lap

I pat her head
kiss her nose
and tie an SOS note to her collar

my leg is broken from the fall
i lay here wounded, waiting

waiting for my Penny to bring back help

"just close your eyes"
a little voice in my head whispers

"it'll all be over soon"

i open my eyes, surprised
"Penny? you're still here?"

my cat lays a whisper

"don't worry my dear"
she says, patting her belly

"in just a few minutes he will be ripe and yummy."

-

I've never read anything by HP Lovecraft (*GASP* I know, I know, I'll get on it soon) but I was in a Gothic Lit class and during one section of the class we talked about dread. The feeling of impending doom through the dark feeling of dread. Through that discussion, the works of HP Lovecraft came up. The idea of most of his writing, so I've been told, is that there isn't really happy endings. I used to hate that, as I used to hate the film Dagon which *spoilers* does not freaking end happy in any way whatsoever */spoiler*. But that day during out discussion I came to appreceate the dark and bleak endings of art a little bit more and also came up with the idea for this poem (which I had originally meant to make a short story). It took me about a year to finally write it, and I'm pretty happy with it.

Searing Smile?

the blood pours out
draining, draining

your eyes searing
my wounds too slowly
looking into me

although i smile
as there is no pain

-

I'm not quite sure if this is really the title to my poem, but that's what I titled the TextEdit document that I saved it under, so I'm going to keep it that way question mark and all.

Blood and Feathers

she gasps
falling to her knees
gasps in pain
gasps in pleasure
she groans
and moans
and screams

the blood trickles down her back
her shoulder blades crack

rip
tear

her body twists
contorts
she smiles
laughs in agony

black feathers
writing, climbing out
her wounds peel open

black and red pools
swirl and form around her legs

with one last
breath
she falls to the sky
newly birthed wings
keep her grounded
within the clouds
as she wakes
blood and feathers
sticking to her bones
no wounds
no wings
only blood
only feathers

-

I love trippy surreal stuff and I love black angel wings. Pretty much sums up how much I absolutely love this poem of mine (and I rarely love my poems that much).

Manic Pixie Real Girl

Manic Pixie Dream Girl - that bubbly, shallow cinematic creature that exists solely in the fevered imaginations of sensitive writer-directors to teach broodingly soulful young men to embrace life and its infinite mysteries and adventures. (Term coined by film critic Nathan Rabin)

There is a thing
A Manic Pixie Dream Girl thing
That exists in our minds
Well some of our minds

She is beautiful
She is perfect
She completes us
Right?

Or is she just a figment
A creation
Dropped into our lives through art
To teach us?

Or is there another form
A Manic Pixie Dream Girl of the real world
Could she exist?
Maybe, but we should not spend lives searching

A Manic Pixie Real Girl
She exists
I've known her to exist
In my life right now

She is a Real Girl
But does my imagination
Accentuate her attributes
Or is this feeling all reality

I like her
Yes
But my feelings feel quite
Contradictory

I want her
But I don't

I need her
But I don't

I love her
But I don't

I don't know how to express it
How she makes me feel, see, live, inspired
I love her, but I don't
A continuous battle through the turmoil

Is she in my life merely to help
To break me through this slump
To get me back up on my feet?

Or am I reading too far into this
This literary device
That has left the fictional world to interfere in my life

I don't know
I don't know if I'll ever know
But I know she's here
My Manic Pixie Real Girl

Or not.

The Beauty of the Pixie

The beauty of the Pixie
drowns away the sorrows

she shows up unexpectedly
fluttering through the wind
she gusts towards me
sweeping her way across my heart

I gaze, I gawk
artistically of course
at the wondrous allure

the Pixie casts her spell
never leaving my thoughts
as I look upon her
she pushes away my sorrow

her wings peeling off
and sprouting into the air
flittering through life
spilling her fairy dust
ever so lightly across my soul

-

Straight up, I love mythology. I love mythology, folklore, folk tales, fairy tales, cryptozoology. You name it, I love it. Unless I haven't heard of it before. Then I'll be forcing you to tell me all about it with excruciating detail. Anyway, I love this kinda stuff and it often shows in my writing. Today I saw a Pixie, she was gorgeous. I'm an artist, I wrote about her. That's just how this stuff goes.