AshleighSiegel

AshleighSiegel

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i used to be a planter. not of plants, but of dreams. pots full of dragons and pirates, watering cans full of rain and fog. i used to be a dream planter. mason jars full of stars, petri dishes filled with fish and whales. i used to be a planter of dreams. where whales fly like birds, children swim with mermaids and sharks. i loved my job. until that one night, where i created a nightmare. sunlight faded, happiness disappeared. plants wilted and animals hid. she was alone, in the dark, scared and crying. she cried for help, cried and screamed for hours and hours, but no one came. i was forced to watch what i had caused. dead trees, black sky, low fog, and little Audrey, sitting at the base of the biggest tree, trying to coax a red fox out of hiding so she didnt feel so alone.

oasis

your truck is my oasis. the place i feel the most safe. i look into your eyes and see the leaves surrounding us reflected into my iris. a metallic oasis engulfs us. hearing the metal flex and relax, like a metal beast we are inside of. your truck is my oasis. metallic, industrial, soothing and safe. you are my oasis.

i dance to the delicate song of floorboards creaking underneath my feet. hypnotic creaks and groans lead my body in a dance that is as bold as fire. join me on this floorboard slow dance. lets supernova out of existence

broke

mind shattered, heart going pitter patter. body broken. whyd you have to say the things you did?

why would you put butterfly's in my stomach if you know i get motion sick. i miss you, but these butterfly's are pulling me away from you.

flex

her muscles kept twitching in her sleep, like a shadow was punching her. first her bicep, then her chest, then her back. she whines in her dreams, calls out for help, but i can not help.

painting pictures of shadows on your walls. they laugh and move in the dark moments. moving closer and closer, cornering their pray on the bed. your foot that you had dangling off the bed has been mangled with scratches. you hear them murmuring like mosquito's ."Behind you", one of them says, and your eyes peel open. only to see black eyes staring back into your soul.

motel

different rooms inside different hallways. different stories in different dormitories.

motel

Broken glass and old cigarettes littered its gravel drive. I could see a dark figure in the corner of my eye. It dropped the key for room 13. The door was littered with blood stains and yet, i couldn't stop myself from walking in. There he was again, mystic and shadowy. Staring at me, through me. I blinked and he was gone. I felt his eyes on me, I turned around and there he was, in the doorway, whispering, murmuring under his breath. He told me to watch my back. He led me into the bathroom, and told me to get into the bathtub. It smelled of old blood. he pulled back the shower curtain and showed dried blood stains on the pristine white porcelain tub. He closed the door, leaving only one bloody hand print.

how is it possible that you are specifically unspecific? you told her, you wouldn't hurt her anymore, but you did not do what you said. you're the complete opposite of what you said you are. how do you aim all of your ammo at her and expect her to still raise your own kids? you fight her because you make up what you want. you hurt her because you don't believe that the choice she made was, in your words, "the best". how arrogant can you be if you don't want your own wife to be happy? you made a promise that you and she would love each other to the end, but you're the only one who loves her. she doesn't love you anymore and if you took your head out of your Giant ego, you might be able to see that. all you want is control and "order" but when you try to control us, you just make us hate you so much more. you've yelled at us for the last time, so do us all a favor and leave while you still have what little humanity left

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writing since 2017 · 26 entries · 23 days shown up

each square is a day—lit means AshleighSiegel showed up.

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23days written

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on this day 9 years ago

AshleighSiegel wrote about relate
“why do people try to relate to so many things that other people do? is it because they are jealous or they just aren't what they want to be? stop trying to be what you aren't and be who you are! you …”

the words AshleighSiegel reaches for

coldbrokensoulbodyhelpbedwalkedcompleteworthnoweyesdifferentoasissecondroomdoor