”Fragments”, ”plasma”, ”creature”. Once I was dedicated to ”chaos”, but it wasn’t mine.
In making a movie, the scenery is essential. No matter the plot, the background or scenery is what gives the characters beauty. Dark wood that surround my town are sinister enough for a Poe novel. No matter if it’s day or twilight, the chills the naked trees bring are unforgettable. Shadows are cast while our own cast make way into the scene, a campfire made by the brave survivors of the war. A fire pit was made easily, the experts doing the techniques that would make a scout swoon from it’s perfection. Gathering the supplies for the fire, the sky grew darker while few of the locals, including me, told ravishing stories about the place. As the fire, born bright, cast shadows upon the few surrounding the campsite, the camera was rolling, it’s lens to the side, showing another kind of shadow that stood among the trees.
”Hey, c’mere a sec” her father yells down the steps. She cringes and, not wanting to make him wait, crawls out of her bed and peeks around the corner of the room, looking up at her father’s smiling face, at the pole he’s holding in his hands. She knows exactly what this is about. She had heard the whispers from the night before, the conversation between this man and her sister not even a few minutes ago. All she could do now was accept it. Her father held out the pole ”Do you know what this is?”
”A pole?” She answers quietly.
”Yes, and do you know what poles are used for?”
She knew exactly what poles were used for, but she answered slowly, ”poking things?”
”Yes, what else?”
”Oh,” he laughed,”Yeah, that’s a good one. Now listen, I’ve been talking to your step mom, and when she comes home today, the three of us and your sister need to have a… conversation.”
A conversation… that’s the word for it. By conversation he simply meant a guilt trip and then a punishment. She knew what he meant by conversation, and she wanted to scream back, to protest because she had done nothing wrong, but instead she simply nodded, and watched as he turned, pole in hand, to go back into the living room and wait until the inevitable conversation.
The light breeze brushing the skin,
Eyes staring out the window at nothing,
The hum of the city that is a hum no more,
The ears escaped to seek sounds of shores,
There is no noise in the thoughts that came,
A remark on the irony of time is made,
The pictures are old, faces in them are young,
A wonder as to whom those faces now belong,
As the piano plays the eyes see a montage,
Tears find their way across a cheek,
Echoes heard from memories gone,
Wishes are made to return to the past.
Today will be a memory again,
May be full of hope, or of regret,
Arms searching to hold them,
Hands wanting to make the future,
The mind a fallen leader with wisdom.
Happiness is sought, had less often,
Some understood it was not to be found,
A good day has been long since had,
There was no dark cloud in the sky,
Or something such, but the absence of one.
With the lack of rain and something more,
Passed day after day with habitual motion,
There was no cloud, there was nothing wrong.
The everyday was so uninspired,
We begged for rain so that we might again,
After the gloom appreciate the sun.
But we denied ourselves contentment,
Because we discovered something beyond the sky,
Then in passing be sought each other,
Hoping to share something more,
Like how we were happy with the sky,
Then the rains, then back to the sky,
With the lack of we learned to appreciate pain.
With the chaos of unplanned fun,
We called it a good day again.
An area sunk below its surrounding (Depression)
There is an uncertainty that resides within,
Where meaning should be,
Forehead weighed down by a frown,
Where bliss should be,
A dampened spirit lies in wake,
Where belief should be,
Escaping the world,
The world where I should be,
Looking away from what is,
Looking for where I would like to be,
There is ignorance at purpose,
Where doing should be,
There is a Depression,
Where life should be.
phalanges. Its so hard to say without doing spirit fingers.
Sublime. The way it looks and the way it sounds are perfect for its meaning.
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