I have walked a path
Where the dry leaves brown,
And the summers fade to a bitter winter.
I have walked the path,
Where nothing is, or ever was,
And where I am no longer.
Symphonies of skeletons clawing at tender flesh,
A chorus of depraved souls sing.
Their screams drip evil,
Their cries and pleas,
It caught me.
I walked closer.
I felt my heart go dry
And watched my blood run blue,
My skin was purple,
My scars white,
My soul a dead, inky black.
My limbs ached,
My shoulders grew heavy,
My mind was laced with white noise.
His eyes were brown,
His teeth were white,
His arms slowly crushed delicate
Ash-colored bones.
His anger was red,
His words a slur of dull blue,
His heart, a corrupted rust.
I have walked a path
And touched a darkness,
I felt the intimacy of regret and self doubt.
My fingertips grazed
The lips of the wicked,
And I watched my fragmented soul
Scatter to oblivion.
I have seen the demons
At the foot of my bed
Waiting in the dead hours of night.
I heard them snicker with
Sharpened teeth and a devilish grin,
And I was afraid.
They were patient, they knew to wait.
They preyed on my being
With black eyes and sharp teeth.
I watched them,
Their violent cackles sent ripples of fear through my
Cold, empty veins.
Scorching lungs
That burn for air,
A frantic hand grasps into the void.
Everything is screaming,
My eyes are flooding,
My heart pounds in waves.
Aching ribs,
Stinging spine,
I am nothing but a slave in his
Twisted machinations.
I close my eyes
And feel his breath,
I wait for the blood to color white cotton sheets.
For my wrist is my canvas
And he is my muse,
But he knows with a sour delight
That I like to keep my art hidden.
Reality is cold and heavy and hard,
Gripping to sanity but shaking in strength,
I fall to my knees and walk no more,
My path is done and
I am gone.
