This poem only available on Stories Space. If you are reading it elsewhere, it has been stolen.Smears of glowering greyRoll smudged across the violet sky,Dusk sinking toTwilight sinking toStar-studded velvetRoiling night.A whispered curse is a wraith in the pit,Phantasms flying across the soulWhere emptiness weepsAnd the echoes of painAnd the twisted limbs ofThe fallen oak lie.Gone are the gods of old in the forestAnd dea...

Is it possible to cope simultaneously with the torment of choosing whether I will to stay and accept less than I desire, or the agony of wanting to walk away because I know you'll never be able to give me what I want? Something that means everything to me. Torn between the exhilaration of a very deep love, or despair born of knowing I walked away from what little I had. Can the heartbreak and grief of a futile want be mea...

Restaurant windows blazing lightOver rain slicked pavement.Warm glow embracing you as you enter.I remain in the limbo of the night,Watching you from across the green.The silent watcher in the parkStaring through the drizzling dark,Concealed in dripping shadows. A figure rises, moves to greet you,Auburn tresses haloed in light.I see her hand take yours,Your arm pulling her close.Your soft lips meet.She's beautiful. I loath...

So much potential I see inside you I wish that you saw you The way that I do You think you’re a bad ass But really you’re not The man that I see You’ve simply forgot You hide in plain sight From the world that you fear And rarely let others Get very near Anger and despair Keeping you frozen Too young to be living The lie you have chosen Unhappy and lonesome You silently cry With pain that’s so deep You wish you could die...

I walk along a back path to the bar and a group of large dark birds rise from the woods and circle above me. "I'm not dead yet," I think. Their swirling creeps me out, makes me feel vulnerable and small. Maybe they can feel how bad things are, and know how close the end is for me. I walk down the railroad tracks. Clomp clomp clomp-clomp ... with an awkward stride that is regulated by the distance between ties and not by m...

Chapter 35 A Needle in a Haystack “We have installed a re-transmitting device. It’s on Komkaran, but it still works. It actually sends images both ways. That’s how I knew that Kallitris arrived to Ashtarma. Then I directed Leot there to capture him and bring him to me.” Oh my, here is the explanation about the weird object feared by the Koms. Bingo. Or whatever they play here. “I need you to go to Earth now.” Yasen says....

This poem only available on Stories Space. If you are reading it elsewhere, it has been stolen.Hand against the cold glass,Condensation runs like tearsDown the outside of my leaden heart.The past is a thunderOf regrets rolling through my time and space,Where blunt winds of despairBuffet against the rocksThat my childhood was smashed upon.These rains cannot growBeauty from the mire,Nor tempests scour the dirt away.The dawn...

Echo calling out Your name  Bouncing off the walls  Of my crumbling heart Deep desolation  Emptiness Despair Beauty in the Breaking dawn only Awakens memories more Darkness hides but brings Comfort not  Deep desolation  Emptiness Despair Echo calling out Your name  Voices in my head Memories of you Empty rooms  Empty heart Echo calling out Your name  Bouncing off the walls  Of my crumbling heart Deep desolation  Emptiness...

This song only available on Stories Space. If you are reading it elsewhere, it has been stolen. ~~~The sea speaks ~~~ Wash my tears away with rain;Leave my shadowed heart by the sea.I've been dreaming of a sunrise with you,Where the salt on the wind scours my pain.Where are you?Far away where the ocean horses run,There's a meadow where my love has gone to live.Sirens singing over velvet emerald waves,There's a light in th...

This poem only available on Stories Space. If you are reading it elsewhere, it has been stolen.The pre-dawn light is green-grey and dull,The air slumbers,Thick and heavy.Dampness and mulchLayer the heart of the earth's foundations.In the mirror she seesHerself.Darkness with a sickly tinge;"Better be hid in the shadows, dear,"Her heart tells her in anguish.The sun is coming,And what shall she see?The years of torment,Punis...

There was a hand in the darkness and it held a knife. The knife had a long black handle of polished black bone, and a blade finer and sharper than any razor. If it sliced you, you might not even know you had been cut, not immediately. The knife had done almost everything it was brought to that house to do, and both the blade and the handle were wet. The person who’s hand held the knife snuck out the door and into the dark...

Dark Knight Lost SoulOnce there was a young knight from the Spanish countryside.On one of his many journeys he did meet an exotic maiden, her hand promised to a great warrior from the isle of mists. He did so plot and coax this exotic maiden with grand stories with one goal in mind: to claim this exotic little flower as his own.As the tongues wagged at court, the knight grew emboldened. He must claim this maiden, mark her...

I cannot stand, nor walk or flyOnly collide in my barren yardIn stunned moments of claritySoil still clutched in my handsTaste this despair and wormwoodStill bitter on my tongue; I bruise my fleshOn bark, dead roots and cold abuseMy face still stings with toothless songPuzzled by where I am, how I got hereLost in the looming darkness, I am stillFragile as a pressed oak leafPain the only constantMy mind maroons itself in s...

This story only available on Stories Space. If you are reading it elsewhere, it has been stolen.This mist of loneliness wraps its fingers around my throatAnd squeezes me into a vortex of despondency.It prods the dirty heart in meAs the moonlight dapples its fingertipsOn the surface of this silver midnight pool.Ripples of tear drops roll across the watersLike the ghosts of once-dreamed heroesOn charging snow-white stallion...

As I view the world through the prism of my mind I see what life's made of, and I wish I were blind Nobody is happy, and those that say they are Have a mind that's torn, twisted, with a social scarThe beat goes on ... the war goes on ... But can life go on? The world is a chess board and I am but a pawn Could this hourglass, known as time, run out of sand? How much sand is left, enough to fill up my hand?Or does everythin...