The Sphere (Nostalgia Rain)
Raindrops…. One for each moment she lived
Fallen down on her, disappearing their memories into her hair,
As her mind thought about them.
Disappearing into small slashes,
As they fell on the ground and disappeared into
A wet grass
A memory of a raindrop
That reminded her of herself
A Christmas with her family,
Loving their child
A Christmas where she would give
And receive love,
Positioned to love
Those who threw their love
She reaches a hand
Out to grab
Splashes destroy it on the ground,
As she is reminded why the raindrop vanished.
There was no love left in the rain.
She had abandoned such things to a past,
Hidden in another time,
So long ago.
Her own planet.
Held in the raindrops,
She was in a sphere of mind.
The Planet (Wandering)
After losing both a daughter
And a Samoyed,
A father was taken,
By his sleep,
To a planet
He never recognized.
A planet’s surface, covered in white fur.
It reminded him of her white fur,
Fully clean and flowing in a wind of her short life.
Fully groomed, better than he could have ever done.
He wandered on the fur,
Looking for his deceased daughter.
At the end of the planet…. He saw her.
The young woman she had become, filled with hope and energy
About her future
A future her father was finally seeing again,
Witness to how she would have looked,
All grown up.
A witness to her specialness,
He saw her naked,
Her bare and soft feet on his deceased dog’s fur.
“She’s fine without me…. look at who she’s grown up to be.”
One last look at her daughter,
Snuggling under the fur of the Samoyed planet.
In heaven, he wanted to believe his daughter was there,
And that there was a “heaven”, for her sake.
The planet of swaying white fur looked close enough
To a heaven
She would have dreamed of being in.
His time was up.
He walked off the remembering planet….
And wandered to his death.
Each finger counted a moment, and each finger counted a time of death.
When a life left a home, a finger counted the time before it arrived in darkness.
When a life left to see a star, a finger counted the time before it arrived in a light,
Seeing a shooting star located somewhere a hand could reach.
Upon grabbing a light, where did the shooting star fall?
A hand that could reach it was cut off by light that pressured it
To fall into darkness
But a chest of darkness that pushed against light
Threw the balance to the wind,
Making light contract and absorb into a dark space.
The wind simply picked up again,
As the hand was forgotten
It fell, like all the others
In a deep darkness of death.
The cycle surges, as more hands fall
Failing to grab any light.
The corpses falling into an ocean
Were drowned out by the sounds of seagulls
Alive, they struggled underwater
Breathing nothing as their lungs collapsed form a fear of drowning
Regrets floated with them to the bottom of the bed,
Where they lay on it,
The coffins prepared for them to sleep in.
A drowning force that pushed their bodies,
Until they drowned on their own corpses
A decomposing process sped up under the ocean’s waves
That sent them into a panic
Fragments of a past that ran away from them
Fragments of bone, flesh, decayed skin that ran away from them
Somewhere far, everything that was once them vanished.
Spitting out rotten food, a lone soul smacked into a sudden air pocket of her bed.
Powerful eyes that spilt a sea that tried to make death out of her.
Power that surged through the surges of time passing underwater….
The analog clock of this home ticked like a bomb, never going to explode.
Animals and humans fell under the waves, turning into the young woman
With the powerful eyes
The surface was black with forgotten memories,
Neglected to bring her back to life,
Reborn in something else,
Who would share her thoughts together some day.
For now, she faced her dark eyes,
All over the bottom of her bed.
A death that stared back at her, eyeing her with instruction on how to feast.
But closing all the darkness around her,
The young woman found an escape in the power her eyes of death
Wished for her to sleep in.
Death spit her out.
Bed (A memorable Chaos)
Going to sleep
A bed was a home to him.
Dreams of someone he had yet to meet....it would be a life-changing encounter with a “her”.
A “her” he had reamed off, given form by the clouds of a dream.
When she spoke to him, it sounded like an angel, in no heaven he wanted to search for.
When she gave him a gift of love,
He rejected it,
And requested a separation from her soul
But while separated,
He felt inner chaos create
A bubble of destruction inside him
The foolishness of abandoning her
She had given him a love
Which he had thrown away to the wind
He developed a backwards gift of chaos.
And she wasn’t around anymore
To give him a profound, natural love.
Dislocated fingers (Twisted Death)
Fingers that dislocated around different times of death.
Fingers that bled and fell off, contorting the deaths of others in their appendixes.
A death, twisted with no proper burial.
A death, twisted with no recognizable body.
A death, longing to have its body destroyed, wanting to escape.
The fingers broke and squeezed
The remnants of death
None of the deceased had ever gotten
Their hands were decapitated.
Acid Rain (Pain Reflection)
A burning rainfall,
Stinging with memories
A stinging rainfall,
Burning with a memory that infected who it belonged to.
Burning with the contempt of others,
Seeping into the system of who had remembered it.
Like a strong infection of plague,
They were destroyed from the inside
By a force of disrespect
A force of a plague
Spreading the epidemic all over the rainstorm
As the town was quarantined with rainwater
A long woman walks through the streets
Trying to avoid the rainwater
As her brown hair, thrown over her left shoulder,
So soaked in rainwater
She is immune to the plague.
Somehow, she has learned how
To fight against contempt.
She smiles to herself
A tight smile of respect,
Proud of who she is,
And leaves the town.
Reflections of pain
The rainwater was a failure
To touch her
Lowered into a resting place, a luxury grave awaited her.
Bright and reflective, a sun could be seen in this summer.
A funeral, attended by herself, as she lowered herself in the coffin
Without a regret of death
She felt no sorrow or pain
As she accepted her death
And let herself die in gold
Her body matching the casket she had decided
To sleep in
Under a Gold Grave (Luxury Dirt)
Under her gold grave,
As she slowly felt herself
As she felt herself go,
The expensive dirt that was home to worms,
Served as her pets on her journey to a
The gold let her forget her long life
Being buried in a bed of flowers
As a royal treasure….
Of all the days and nights that had passed her by.
Every night shined with her gold reflectiveness.
Her body was the light
Of these night days
Too long ago,
For her to forget.
As the candle burnt, a life was fading.
As the wick spent itself to nothing
Something’s wick vanished.
As the wick stopped smoking,
A smoking body could be found,
Amid the wrecked and charred remains
Of a burned-down home.
Looking at a body with a goal in mind,
A female grim reaper let herself
Examine the body with her power-hungry eyes
Eating the soul of the corpse,
As she spit out the bones of a tasteless memory.
A vision of a fire gone wrong,
The woman reaper
Picked up the body
And left the scene,
Going to find the owner
Of the home.
Culprit (Happy Burning)
Filled with joy at the home being destroyed,
The culprit of the fire fled the scene,
Escaping in the sirens and havoc
Getting to a gas station,
He was robbed and shot by
The owners of the station,
Recognizing him as a soul
That had burned down the house that
Had previously been the station’s grounds.
He had no regrets.
He had burnt a family to death
For the hell of it.
He welcomed hell
Where he would burn.
Hell (Inferno of Souls)
The burning of those there….
It was a day and night.
The souls burnt to a crisp in a day,
To be revived at night as a whole body.
A terrifying fate
More intimidating than trying to prove there is an afterlife
Than the ones there
Flowing over a fire,
Roasted at a spit of flames,
Where they were charred and thrown
Into a trash dump
At the edge of hell.
Mosquitos fed on them,
As they soaked black colours of evil
Unto the trash’s heap.
Burning up in the Satan’s atmosphere,
He saw her among the dying trash heap,
Remembering he had burnt her crème-coloured body at a spit
Still in flames, her curves where ruined
A charcoal body,
Removed of any heaven’s paradise of gold.
Burn Victim (Rain Comfort)
Wandering out in the rain, he sees a world filled with a claim to take away him pain
Burning on the outside, his feeling on the inside help him to feel to sensation of rain
On his comforting body
The rained sky opens up
As a voice could be heard from the clouds
A woman’s voice, strong and deep, feminine and sweet
High-tones show through the clouds,
As she seems to give a wide smile to the burn victim,
Reaching down to touch him for healing pleasure
Lying on the grass, as rain hits down on him,
He feels his flames burn to a water’s crisp
Her speaking tone, powerful and loud with energy,
Is telling him he’s ok.
The rainstorm will heal him, so she says.
The rainstorm will be as powerful as her voice
As soothing on his skin as the femininity of her voice
She told him
She was right
The female speaking voice seeming to come from a goddess in clouds
Leaving the end of the rainstorm
To heal a burn victim on the grass.
The day begins.
The grass dries.
Colour of Spirit
Standing on nothing, he felt a spirit leave him.
Going away, the spirit went to a place
No even it knew the location of
A spirit, rejecting a colour,
That would have made it white.
Instead, accepting a colour,
That made it green.
Vines growing on its soul,
Who it belonged to could feel
A strange nature grow inside him
A strange force from so far away
Changing how he was inside
A contorting force,
Twisting his spirit in strange forms,
From a never-ending distance away
As the planet let the decisive spirit sink into it,
It rejected its colour of green,
Leaving a strange force of nature
To its owner,
Somewhere a never-ending distance
From a place of comfort.
A force was moving inside them.
She woke up to sounds of a burglary
The sounds of someone dying.
Looking around her home
To find her pet parrot shot dead.
The burglar noticed how scared she was,
But also noticed how naked she was.
Sensing her could fulfill himself,
Her put down his gun,
And put himself on her.
Screaming to escape, she refused to let him put himself in her gold-like body.
Her skin tone so soft
He just had an urge to.
He wasn’t a rapist
He just had no self-control.
Her soft, gold body had made a rapist out of him.
When she screamed and refused to let him put himself inside her,
He forced himself in her mouth.
But this young woman was not easy prey
He had made a mistake, choosing her home to invade.
Her teeth let him feel death.
As he detached from himself.
As he felt a bit of his soul
Chomp in half
He fell back,
Nothing left to rape her with.
In immense pain, he fell into her arms,
While she smiled and hugged him close,
Feeling his dying warmth.
Control of Sex
Lacking control of the situation
He found pleasure in making her
Lacking control of her
He found pleasure
In letting anger take control of her
Her place, under him
Was a crippling one
She was crushed
By a hopeless will
To live with him
To live without him….
That was a stretch
In the end, she did live without him
One day, she simply went off far
As she was his bottom,
He had been her top
She reversed the roles
By leaving him alone
She reversed her bottom
By wishing for him to see his controlling
At the top of her
A control of a bottom
The end point of pointless
Claw (Do Go Off)
Staying with her in a home, she requested he stay with her until the day was over,
A long time, to be sure.
Days, full of her strange claws.
Absorbed by an almost-golden body and the curves of her body,
All he wanted to do was stay, introduce him to his parents.
Waking up on day, he saw her beside him, a golden wallet in hand.
He didn’t think much of it.
She was only sleeping with it.
A week after, he saw her sleeping with a family picture of him-
His parents and him, looking, as it appeared, happy and content.
“Where did you get that picture? That was before I had problems with my parents.”
“Did you break-up with them?”
“No. Why would you ask me that? Where did you get the picture?”
“I found it.”
“In your home.”
A week later, more day had passed.
“Why do you have my wallet?”
No answer. She was asleep, the bare-golden curve of her hip a special sight of a lust.
He forgot why she held his golden wallet.
“Ok…. you’re hot.”
He hugged he hip close and kissed her.
A week later. His belongings…. Missing.
“Where’s my shaver?”
“I was using it to shave my legs.”
“Don’t you have your own shaver?”
“I may.” A strange smile.
A week later, she used her golden body to camouflage the wallet as she ran
Taking his money with her
Waking up that morning,
She wasn’t beside him.
“Maybe I should go. Walk off somewhere.”
“Away from my lady.”
He saw his haver smashed on the ground,
Destroyed on a bathroom’s tiles.
So much anger, so much violence to destroy it.
“She never loved me.”
His wallet matched
Her skin tone
As two lovers do
“Why didn’t he want me to go?”
She felt a warmth of her body, a gold wallet.
A memory scrap of him for company.
“I never loved him.”
“He was so generous to me.”
Her claw allured him to a nothing
He never went away, leaving her to survive.
Green Bullet (Nature Suicide)
A shot in a night, a tree was hit.
The young girl playing in it did not get out.
Slumping over the bark, her treehouse fell out of the sky