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| Tecum ad infinitum...
With a soft breath, a final gasp, the white dwarf fades to black, like the flame extinguishing from a birthday candle. In the blink of an eye, the once brilliant star dwindles to nothingness, blending and merging with the emptiness of space. But that existence can never be denied, nor can it fail to be recognized. There is, as always, more than what meets the eye. Just look up at the night sky, and count the myriad of celestial entities, innumerable bodies of ethereal beauty. How many billions of stars, intwined in a single point of light, hide from mortal sight? How many more are overlooked and deemed as nonexistent, the black dwarfs that blanket the sky, vast multiplicities of unseen light? At night, without that explicit sphere of heat in the sky we've regarded as our own, what lies beyond the sanctity of familiarity? Who is say that something so limited, so restricted as the definite amount of mass in our massive universe, is in the end, indefinite?
((You are a)) Dark. Shadow. Black. Hole. Nothing. Nothing at all. Your emotions, refused to be acknowledged, hover about you, smothering you, not letting you get anywhere, much less present any availability of it happening. Yet, you let it consume you, you let it happen, lacking even the strength to make this supposed contentment of yours the least bit believable. I approach you, and you wince beneath my touch, cowering from my glance, perhaps...afraid? Your deception is impossible. Do you really expect me to have faith in your words, as they are now?
Energy, yours,
Ablaze, though if only barely flickering in the wind.
But still so warm,
So full of potential to burn once more.
Pain.
Yours, and yours alone.
It beckons demise,
And you're answering the call.
Past.
Betrayal.
Mine,
And mine especially.
It cuts you a new wound each day,
And you're still clutching my hand.
The one holding the knife,
Driving it into the core of your heart.
Why do you continue to let me hurt you?
...Anger, blaring.
Hate.
Me.
Hate.
You.
For loving me.
Love?
Yes.
Loving you for hating me.
Hating me for loving you.
Yes, I feel it.
No, I see it.
And it's blinding.
So I close my eyes and let the convivial embrace of darkness engulf and welcome me. My breath quickens, racing between the crevices of my lips at 299,792,458 meters per second, each desperate gasp of air burning my lungs. Even closed, my vision blurs, and my perspective, already distorted, becomes more deranged still. Through consciousness, I burn. Thus, into the darkness I deeper plunge. And suddenly, the raven blackness fades into nothingness, and everything is clear. Existence, the single point extending into an endless horizon, encircles me idyllically in a halo of light.
Warmth, fleeting.
Memories, eternal.
Life, haunting.
Death, ever mortal.
We are // all that we used to be.
We are // all that we could have been.
We are // all that was meant to be.
We are // all that was meant to sin.
...With you, evermore. | | |
| *Likes stealing quizzes from Steph's xanga* ^^;;
Does that sound like me? o.o;; | | |
|
Short piece written for English. Emphasis on foreshadowing.
~*~ Intoxication ~*~
The light shimmering through the half-shrouded window was as serene and beautiful as the figure resting in it. With those oceans of sapphire, she gazed spellbound upon the pages of her special June edition of Seventeen. A light knock broke her concentration, and she looked up and flashed the nurse at the door a dazzling smile, brushing a long strand of blonde hair behind her ear. She was admitted into the hospital two weeks ago, having been found unconscious after the concert, with her clothes scattered throughout, and a nasty bump on her head resulting in the temporary loss of memory. She didn¡¯t even seem to respond to the report of her boyfriend having been brutally battered, apparently trying to defend her. The nurse had come to deliver news that she was free to be released, as no further medical impediments bound her to her confinement within that infirmary. Even as the doctors signed her release papers, no one suspected that her freedom would be cut so short.
As she stepped out, the sun had gone down, but the streets were not the least bit lacking in either luminescence or liveliness. The multitude of lamp posts and clatter of people welcomed her back to her familiar surroundings, but nothing enticed her interest as it used to. The girl dragged herself up the stairs to her room, drew out her collection of photographs, and traced her fingers along the countenances of her most beloved friends and family. Drawing her arms tightly around her old stuffed animal, she let herself drift off to sleep, listening to the hum of the air conditioner.
The atmosphere of the room was dark with music exploding from the series of stereos, each the size of a mini-fridge, and humid with the breaths of people moving in spasmodic waves, coinciding with each flash of the immense strobe light hovering above, suspended from the ceiling. He approached her, placed a hand on her cheek, and guided it upwards, as he directed his own head towards her, leaning forward to kiss her. Their lips mingled with a passionate embrace. His lips were soft as velvet, delicate as a flower, his breath, minty and cool as ice. He began to walk away, as soon as their lips departed from one another¡¯s. His movements were so elegant that he almost appeared to have glided across the stadium, diffusing through the mob of people. She tried to call out for him, but her voice was nowhere to be found. The only thing for her to do was follow him out the door.
As she made her way across the room, she realized that the bodies of people were merely ghastly plays of light, intangible figments of imagination that disappeared upon physical contact. Why was she able to feel him, and only him? Now walking steadily towards the door, she noticed the blackened faces of everyone around her. Reaching the solid steel door, she pressed down on the handle furiously, wanting to find him and get some answers. Her efforts remained frivolous, as the door simply refused to budge. She turned around to call for help, only then remembering that the people around her were as real as the monsters under her bed. They began to fade from her sight, and before long, she found herself completely alone, trapped.
She was panting, and her hands felt frozen solid. Drawing deep breaths to calm herself, she propped up her pillow and leaned against the back of her bed. Staring at the ceiling above, she watched the opaque patterns dance amidst each other, as her eyes adjusted to the darkness of the room. Slipping back down to lie on her back, she pulled the pillow down, held on once again to her stuffed animal, and surrendered her consciousness once more to the night.
Her friends, pressed against the current of the crowd, ended up residing in a remote corner of the stadium, with barely enough room to move their elbows without knocking into someone else. The prolific stench of alcohol clogged her nostrils, almost making her want to vomit. She forced way the faint taste of bile in her mouth with a quick gulp of beer, which didn¡¯t exactly help her upset stomach as she had hoped. She smiled incessantly, laughing amongst her friends nonetheless. They pointed at the guy standing alone against the back wall, with dull brown hair, confused hazel eyes, and think black-rimmed glasses. He appeared to be trying to disappear from the crowd, to draw as little attention to himself as possible. She smirked and made her way towards him, turning her head to stare back at the semicircle of eyes peering in her direction, winking confidently. She positioned herself right next to the boy, raising her bottle of beer towards him in attempt for conversation. The boy continued to stare at the floor, as he stuttered a brief comment about how many people there were. She reached over and took off his glasses, as her other hand ventured over his chest, unbuttoning his shirt. Still smiling, she gave him a kiss, short but ardent, just enough to get him wanting more, as she continued stroking his torso. Before long, they slipped out the back door together, under the cover of night, with hands constantly over one another, their lips almost never parting except for a vital gasp of air. Their hair were disheveled, their shirts appeared to have been attacked by rabid koalas, and their pants were missing altogether.
She lay silently on the thin sheets of clothing separating her almost completely bare body from the cold hard cement, with her ears ringing and her head pounding as if someone had impaled her temples with a metal baseball bat. His arms were still tightly wrapped around her, his heavy breaths still landing on the back of her neck. Instantly screaming, with eyes wide open, she grabbed the brick on the floor, and struck him with it repeatedly, until exhaustion brought her to collapsing beside him. The trail of blood ran from his head to the tips of her fingers.
She sat upright in bed, clutching the masses of blankets around her. They helped to soothe her, as the silky material soaked up the sweat, now practically streaming from her pores. As she took a moment to reminisce over the images that flashed before her eyes just seconds before, she began to shake violently. The only things evident in her mind were the alley, the man, and the unmistakable smell of blood. Her eyes darted across the room, her breathe quick and uneasy. The intervening shadows danced and jerked in angular movements, with each passing of headlights, shooting across the branches outside her window. She then stared down at her own hands, only to find them red and raw. Pure horror struck across the face of the fallen angel. Her hands, frozen at her lips, now chapped and cracked, were unable to hold back her screams. The sound of his now mocking laughter reverberated off the walls from every direction, quickly engulfing her cries in an endless tidal wave, drowning her with guilt.
She streamed down the stairs and right out the door, dashing to the very alley of her dreams. The brick walls, tinged with crimson, seemed to want to swallow her up, as each side ostensibly closed in around her. Just as she brought the noose of clotheslines tightly around her neck, the very man she had seen in her dreams came out of the shadows, smiled at her, and carried her off, walking right through the door. The girl was found the next morning dangling upside-down from the strobe light, arms outstretched, legs together, with taut fishing lines holding her securely in place; her wrists had jagged slits, and there was an unseen piece of black plastic lodged inside her throat. Like a mutilated porcelain doll, blood was still dripping down her golden tresses.
She was a vision of beauty.
She was a vision of beauty.
She was the vision of beauty¡ | | |
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Another piece for English class. Emphasis on theme. Anyone want to take a stab at it?
The knife, with its stainless steel blade glistening in the night, fit so perfectly into my hand, that it can¡¯t help but have belonged there. I was greeted by the apparition reflecting off the silvery surface with a smirk of delight, a smirk of mischief, of malice. My victim, lying helplessly across from me, pleaded with silent cries for mercy against the dreaded approach of the serrated edge. I walked over to her, took a moment to examine her smooth, firm skin, and picked her up effortlessly. Holding her with my free hand, I teased her a bit, and brushed the knife gently against her, before finally slicing across, breaking the skin with ease. I could almost hear a scream ringing in my ears, a piercing shriek loud enough to wake the dead. I didn¡¯t really, though - she was mute. She couldn¡¯t have made the slightest peep, no matter how much she wanted to. A splotch of red fell to the floor, momentarily after a thrust of my wrist. I smiled with satisfaction, as the cut revealed a flash of white beneath; but one was simply not enough. I cautiously repositioned the knife, careful not to disfigure her, and repeatedly sliced through her, now tearing off multiple chunks of skin and flesh. Some of the scarlet fell against the porcelain sink, and stood out like half-dried rose petals blanketing a floor of snow. Before long, my task was completed. She was now bare before me, stripped of all but the chaste white structure that had once lain concealed. She was finally rid of the impurities placed upon her. At last, she was ready. With a smile, I lifted her upwards, bent my head down a little, and took a bite. I would worry about the mess afterwards. Such a pretty red fruit. | | |
| I know it's been forever since I've posted here. Once again, a million apologies go out to those who've been asking me to write forever. I know it's not much, and these were mostly done completely rushed, but hey, it's better than nothing, right...? Oh well, criticisms, comments, flames, whatever you've got to give, I'll be glad to take.
The stars disguise themselves, hiding under blankets of clouds,
As the lack of celestial brilliance mocks common consternation.
The once pure sky masks its disappointment in humanity,
And unites dusk and dawn, entwined in brilliant shades of gray.
The luminescence radiating from street lamps and city lights
Are uncaringly overshadowed by its lack of authenticity.
As people view the world through the lens of a camera,
Reality mingles with wisps of voices unheard and visions unseen.
Aimlessly staring at what once was, questions are left unanswered.
Looking to the supposed heavens above, gullible faith dwindles.
Like the embers of a flame dying upon the cold concrete floor,
The lights in the sky fade from memory, from known existence.
People begin to go home, disinterested with the blank and barren.
Desolate streets bear the unwanted truth denied by all -
Beneath the lights, beneath the coveted pretense of warmth,
The world is not at all a pretty place - it's cold, hollow, and empty.
And the true gold that glitters will never dare to shine.
* Pretty, is it not? | | |
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