The Lady By The Lake
She sways and watches the dark waters
Her lighthearted hums brings grief to the ears
Beautiful, piercing the silence of the night
Agony riveting like the pain of broken bones
Yet allured like the moths to the dim light
Waist deep, one could barely tell
The pale dullness of her mildew ridden dress
And the nothingness that lies below
One foot in and the anguish starts to fade away
The torment evaporating, weaning off
No turning back,
the deed will be done
Two steps in and the release is inexplicable
The hand reaches for her, yet grasps dread and remorse in return
Seizing the humming, she turns
The sudden vacancy,
gone
Yet another to drag the lake.
Nihilty Island
Welcome to Nihilty Island
A land where everything means nothing and nothing is everything
Where the skies are so dark, but the light is ever so blinding
A place where skeletons roam, along with devils and demons–alone
But it is not because there is nothing
Nothing but the irrelevant prison you call a mind
A mind that’s running on martial law, annihilating everything in its wake
Leaving you helpless with the thought that you have nothing
Leaving you trapped in your cell–alone
But you are not because there is nothing
Nothing but dark crevices and pulsating veins running through the malleable concrete
No officers on guard, no one locked you in here but yourself
Sitting, counting the 8,397 tickmarks you made when you only got here yesterday
Sitting, fighting your self-proclaimed demons–alone
But you are not because there is nothing
Nothing but the rage that you forgot to take off the eye
The anxiety that caught the entire city on fire
The fire that burned, and now all your friends are dead
The fire that burned, leaving you unscathed as you hear the sickening pop of human flesh–alone
But you are not because there is nothing
Nothing but the rough, drowning beating of your heart
A heart that has infinite stitches that is barely holding on to a pulse
A pulse that you tried taking away so many times
A pulse that you sometimes wish were gone so you could leave–alone
But you are not because there is nothing
Nothing but good ole Nihility Island
A land built on ashes, blood, concrete and flatlines
A place you can call home
But you cannot because there is nothing
Arachnid Inn
You almost run straight into the quilt, the well made duvet
So fine, it’s almost invisible to your naked eye
It’s glistening and inviting in the warm sunshine
Drops of moisture decorate it from morning’s dew
Tantalizing, the grand opening has commenced
A fly buzzes past you, making a beeline like an open reservation
A little insolent as it lies down on the quilt, encumbered by its beauty and meticulity
As the hostess, dressed in all black comes to tuck it in using all eight arms and legs
She even remembered to bring extra blankets,
You have never seen a better run establishment before
As she drapes the pristine white silk blankets onto the fly
It stretches and shifts, trying to find that one spot
And before her departure, she did not forget extra pillows either
As she kisses it goodnight and the fly goes limp
Satiated, yet unoccupied, drifting off
Falling away, like the leaves, lamented
She bounds down her quilt as it bounces up and down
Spinning and tidying up, expanding her hotel as she fills her beds
So many sleeping bodies, impervious through the gusts of fall winds
Serenity of the view, overlooking the grove below
Taking in guests and tourists without discrimination
You have never seen such great customer service before
She comes and stops by you, her eyes dark and hard like obsidian
She moves about and raises her uniformed striped legs
As if asking if you have a reservation