They crawled from the earth that day,
Corpses that stank of decay
voices groaning loud to say,
"We aren't gone. Don't dismay.
We miss you, but you must stay
up here. Keep living today.
'Cause it won't last forever.
Endeavor, live ev'ryday."

I know when most people think of poetry
they think of beautiful pastoral descriptions
or love letters.
Celebrations of our favorite parts of this world.

But as a poet,
sometimes I get tired of typing out the same old lovely letters.
Sometimes, I want to cut out my heart
and slap it wetly upon the page
watching the spurts
to see what patterns they make.

Don't get me wrong,
there's no shame in writing about love
unicorns and rainbows.
The world is full of that
and people love it.

But the darkness is just as present
even if we want to ignore it.
And there are days
where that's the only type of writing I can do.
There should be nothing wrong with that, right?
But a lot of people are afraid of those shadows.

Sometimes I write pretty words.
But other times,
the monsters inside of me grab hold
and twist the tendons of my fingers,
choreographing their own dance across keys,
and telling those stories that are painful to hear
because they show us what we spend our lives denying.

Can we just be kind to each othet?
Why is that so impossible?
The simple choice, love not hate,
would save so many souls
who think that there's no
place for their spark
in a world
painted
​black.

The magic crept from her fingertips,
sizzling green smoke that chewed
through stone and wood.

It wasn't that she didn't hear the peasants screaming,
crying out for help and healing.
Even the dead could hear that racket.

No, she simply had other plans.
Machinations that would serve her desires first and foremost.

The town around her was burning.
Flames leapt from rooftops to gardens and back.
It made for very dramatic lighting.
perfect, in fact.

And with the superficial carnage
no one would pay an old wench any attention.
Not when any sane creature would be fleeing
rather than walking through the town square,
the bouquet in her hand dried and rotten.

It was a simple charm
to turn the weapon of her own death
​the very noose and gallows meant to end her
into the creature that would tear apart the countryside.

That would teach them all the danger
of trying to kill a witch.

Darkness trails behind
as the sun crashes down. A
now bloody pinprick.

Many are bowed low beneath the burden of knowledge,
​nearly buried beneath that which they have always sought.

I see it in your eyes too, child.
That lust for deeper knowing,
an understanding of the world at your fingertips
and those variable realms beyond.

Do you realize the burden that comes with knowing?
​Have you seen the hollow look of a man
who has watched the past twist and burn before him
because he sought knowledge of the future?
I have.
Countless empty eyes have blankly looked back at me.

But maybe you'll be different, hmmm?
Will you find the answers that you seek,
and then have the strength to utilize them?
To change your world for the better?
I hope so.
​
Here, let us begin.

Take a breath now.
Let the softness of the air fill your lungs
make you weightless
until the earth itself cannot hold you.

The ground relinquishes its claim
and the unknowable inside of you awakens.
That bloodshot eye will open in the center of your chest
and survey this world
bright and ready for devouring.

That voice inside of you will speak with your tongue
although you cannot comprehend the words.
It will speak of oceans of madness
calling them to smother the sun
taint the world with spite.

You will watch all of this happen
but not understand.
Not until it invites you to join in
and your mouth grins wide with too many rows of teeth
and your fingers grow long with talons and barbs.

Then you will stalk these shores with the unknowable.
They will be your companions for the hunt.

You will be insatiable
and every soul you sink your teeth into
will only grow the hunger gnawing at you.

By the time this world has become desert and dust
your power will have grown to match the others'.
You will move on to the next living world
and your hunger will only grow.

​This is the beginning of how infinity ends.

Do you ever close your eyes
drift down into that blackness within
and in a flash
find yourself somewhere new?

I did that today.
It must have been hours ago
that I found myself here.
Maybe days?
In a world in the midst of constant, shimmering glow
it's impossible to tell.
The sun, moon, and stars are absent.
Nothing shimmers in the sky.
But the ground itself is imbued with a paleness.
Within it, every object takes shape
shows itself with subtle colors flashing.
The grass ripples with concentric circles when the wind blows,
ant toes tap out blips of red on rock,
and water is a cacaphonous madness of violet
ever flowing and changing below the surface
deepening.

But I do not belong here.
My reasoning?
Well, while everything in this world embodies light
I stand out in shadow.
I have no color.
When I raise my hands to my face
there is only a flat, matte blackness where my skin should be.
I swallow the light
devour it by my very presence.
And I fear that if I stay for much longer
this whole world will falter and fade.
Behind me, my footsteps from an empty trail
of a beautiful world
broken by a stranger unwillingly unmaking it.

I am unequivocably and unapologetically me.
I tried for far too long to blend in to the shadows,
avoiding the looks from those around me,
and biting my tongue until it bled,
rather than say what I think
​and be who I am.
​I'm done with that.

I'll admit
sometimes my sense of rythm is negligible,
but I will wholeheartedly say that I dance to the beat of my own drum.

Actually, scratch that.
I stumble, trot, leap, sprint and run amok
to the sound of my own goddamned orchestra!
You might hear a dischordant and chaotic racket,
but it's as reckless and proud as the heart racing inside my chest.
and as unabashedly ridiculous as the thoughts in my head.
It's a masterpiece.
And it's mine.