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Posts Tagged ‘Darkness’

Drowning in toxicity

Wondering what will my life be

When will I climb above

What was meant to be true love 

Moving on means nothing but

Paddling inside a futile rut 

The gears of life are all but stuck

And you have to wonder who gives a fuck 

Where are those country roads to home

The ones we’re not meant to walk alone 

The ones that promise the same old song

The ones that take us where we belong 

Find your feet and lose your mind

Unlearn the dark and find the light

Toss the scorn and hold the kind

Tell yourself … you’ll be alright

© hazyshadesofme

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I often come to this door, but have never turned the key.

Until this time.

This time, I press against the cold steel and watch my fingers curl around the handle and slowly twist. I can tell by the way I inch forward that I believe I’ll have the chance to choose whether or not I want to enter, after I see what’s inside.

But this is not so today.

The door opens and I’m in with such force that my cheeks draw back and my neck strains against the pressure.

It’s so dark.

Lack of light is not the issue. It’s well-lit. Sharply, in fact. Bright fluorescents so exposing, that I can see all of my smudges and every choice I’ve ever made.

Nonetheless, it’s dark in here.

The blaze of light showcases every setting, subject and sonnet I’ve ever engaged in and holds it up to the heat of the glare. The doubt of it all melts and it drips its hot, inky stain over my skin.

There’s often darkness in light.

But whether or not we turn the key, open the door, step inside or flip a switch, it goes both ways. There’s also light to be seen in the darkness.

We just have to imagine it’s there.

light in the dark 1

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There are things no one knows and never need know.  They’re merely splintered shards that have been scattered like chicken feed under the sofa, behind the door…deep in the woods at the back of the house.

And there, they should stay.

Plucking them out of obscurity, chancing their sharpness will cut my thickened skin is needless.  No one knows they’re there.  Leave them.

Stare at the stars.  Stay perfectly still.

I tell myself that I believe the things I don’t know won’t hurt me.  That I believe what I didn’t see can’t cry out.  I leave the unknown to weaken and wither, trusting the sharp edges will dull and diminish in hiding.

I once thought my shards were secrets, but I’ve learned that secrets are soft lips pressed against matted hair and light, breathy whispers in curious ears.  They are flighty things meant to be shared by children on gravel fields and women huddled in coffeehouses.

There are no screams, only choked murmurs I can barely make-out, suspended in the air and like dead falling leaves they cover the ground in cracked fragments all around me.

No, I don’t have secrets.  My shards slither in from the trees and my heart-racing, sweat-waking terror will be whispered to no one.

Silence.

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