Sounding the alarm
as the mental ward empties
I'm free to murder
Your life slowly leaves
your body while decaying
but then you return
You've been lost inside
the body of the puppet
in a children's show
Hear in the city
your invisible screaming
echoes off the walls
I wrote a story
a haiku about horror
IT ALL BECAME REAL
Trekking through those pre-determined paths through a secluded wilderness surrounded by concrete and steel can help cleanse the mind and gives an illusion of seclusion. Not aimlessly wandering around could yield findings of calm, lapping waterfronts of a lake, lily pads standing tall above the surface in competition for solar energy, ivy growing against gravity while using a strong trunk for support, critters and fauna dashing about in their pre-winter panic, and leaves turning shades of colors for Autumn's tradition, giving the canopy and floor some accents and trim. Yet whether wandering around this last piece of undisturbed nature or not, some find their own paths previously blazed. Walking over dead, colorful leaves I return to the beginning.
A long long passion dug up from the hardened dirt preserved in the mind. Think I will go back to my roots – the seed planted – when life was simple. Remembering grounds previously treaded – search for fertile earth.
"Age is but a number" they say, yet this "number" puts our minds in disarray. It forces us to reflect on, to long for, our innocent and pure past. A time when the simplest yet stimulating playthings, games, and entertainment brought us a carefree joy. And the higher this number climbs to the heavens, the more we desire to fall back into the pit of down that comforts us. Pieces of plastic designed to simulate the flowers of Gaia.
She had thirteen hours
to defy the Goblin King
and win back Toby
the maze outstretched before her
untold twists and hidden turns
and Jareth always watching.
It was so unfair
all the peaches and crystals
the precious power
through slithering oubliettes
beyond reordering time
Sarah would beat his labyrinth.