#voidkin
do not unbury the buried
they are there for a reason
prayers might not save you this time
am i the one you dream about at night?
how do you see me?
you told me once
and i asked you
how could you make something so beautiful
out of crumbling ash?
in your eyes
i am something i do not recognize
how do you claim to love something so unholy?
when the stars bloom
I will come for you
harbor you
until then speak
speak your woes
and speak your joys
for I will listen to it all
you will never be alone again
the sun shines
I work and work and work
words pouring
sketches drowning me in thoughts
I did not want
the sky goes black
the stars shine
as they did long ago
hands reach out of the darkness
what am I doing here?
the ocean
drops out from underneath
my feet
the sky
opens above me
come home
the void of space whispers
come home
allow yourself to be swallowed up and made whole
it will be there
still and unmoved
it will be there
crawl through the window
cut open your heart
fog chasing your heels
with the wind pushing you back
a boy sits at the corner alone under the darkening sky
he offers his hands
(as if in prayer
reaching for the promise that light will come again)
he offers the skeleton of a small bird instead
(he put it together himself)
he tells you proudly
he put it together again and
he felt like a god
(the mercy and the creation of a life in his hands)
the eyes, ever watching, the heart too bloody and the heat too loud
the eyes, always watching, everything from everywhere and nowhere
the eyes, unceasing, smooth and slick is the way of the days
the eyes, now blind, forgiveness became sin
there is a god standing in the street outside
xe looks at you with eyes too sharp
and a mouth too quiet yet whispers all the same
xe points to the forest presenting a choice
the walls of the house close in
follow xem
you will not move from your window
follow xem
you know that divinity only leads to madness
it comes earlier each year
the yearly ritual of unbecoming
the sun going red
and the birds circling in the sky
they have come to pick you clean
something passes by your garden
as twilight sets in
and compliments how your roses have grown so well
you thank them
you do not mention the bodies
that make the flowers grow so well
as the sun hits it’s zenith
droning fans pierce the otherwise silent atmosphere
the usual screams that come from beyond the fence
are easier to ignore
Dreams of him – that distorted version of him – brushing against your skin take over your mind. The thick grime covering his hands, the feeling of it too foreign for you to ever forget, stands out against the fuzzy recollections of him your memory can bring to the surface.
God, those dreams were common. Not nightmares, no. Something else. Something drowned in static and haunting, that leaves you waking in a cold sweat, aching for those hands against your skin again, aching for the promises left unkept by that twisted version of him - your tears calling out for him in the night just as much as your screams do.
The void can watch you without eyes. Anywhere you look, he’s staring back at you. He’s proud of you.
The clock’s slow and careful overhead. My mind shuts off. Searching for exit will prove fruitless. Your eyes are all I see. Quite frankly, they are all Iwantto see. You control me. You always will.
I can’t think past this madness swarming in my head any longer. I’ll give in. Anything to be put out of the misery of consciousness.
I’d prefer being broken.
Extradimensional lovers: for when being in the same time and place is overrated. He sends you his presence throughout the day, broadcasting thoughts into your mind. His lust for you surpasses the limits of a corporeal form, a sensuality beyond simple touch. Foreign and intangible, unknowable, aberrant love.
Looking at him hurts more than your eyes. It hurts your mind, your understanding of the world around you. His form continues on to dimensions you can’t even begin to imagine. His eyes - if they are eyes - are colors you cannot comprehend. You blink twice. You continue looking regardless.
His hands linger on your hips. Your breaths are whispers in the dark of the night; the rain like tears on your skin; blood tainting the purity of the pavement under your feet as he leads the dance of your demise. You don’t know his plan for you yet. You don’t need to. You’ll let him lead you in this eternal dance until he inevitably swallows your life whole.
You love him, after all.
