I’m Sorry.
Close your eyes.
Now open.
Darkness is all you see.
As you gasp for air to scream,
You start to fall.
Wind gushing all around,
A horrifying screech that must be your terror.
Your hair is flying every which way,
Arms seem to be swimming.
You try to grab on.
You try to grab onto something that will save you.
All you feel is a rock wall,
Scraping up your fingers.
Blood falls,
It falls on you like rain.
And then you stop mid air.
Relief fills you everywhere.
And just as you got yourself together,
A flash fills your sight.
You adjust your eyes to see enormous, engulfing flames.
You try to get away
But something is pulling you closer.
You look all around.
You look up.
Calming light is up high.
You can barely hear joyful songs from above.
Slowly you are moving towards the fire,
but you see something.
You see me.
"Why didn't you tell me?!?" You scream in agony.
I step back, look at your fearful eyes.
We are gone.
You are really gone.
And I will cry forever.
I close my eyes as I hear your excruciating screams.
I'm sorry.
Last One Original (Jumble Tongue)
must be required that unanimous
blood runs flee negativity
and give-it-back inhales
go home to waiting atmosphere
queued for baby breaths
chance gives clue of pretend glimpse
forever dodged but the telltale
of wanton tick-tocks remain
stop and digit along
neutral coated uh-oh's
sometimes self-debt arrives demanding
I scribble the hooded one an IOU that falls short
Translation posted as "My Final Translation"
EXAMPLE (my jumble tongue #13)
arctic veins freeze my feel
making barren my thinks
which will-me their air to steal
until the killing kind sinks
I see the noise shimmering
sway mouth cries to be blank-eyed
worked free the red simmering
that spilled what was lip-tied
death suits and battle paint
no change to twist the done
held in karma-locked restraint
elicited closed by the guilt-gun
no cares reflect on my husk
true sewn instinct selfers spark
taking of virtue to touch dusk
to fill the hallow of their dark
_________________________
ROUGH TRANSLATION
_________________________
A cold washed over me and my emotions
quieting my mind
except the will to choke them to death
until the killer in me is ready;
I see their struggle like art
lying mouths begging to die
to be drained of the blood
that confessed what was thought to be secret.
Armor and camouflage
can't change what happened
held by the reaping of what was sowed
plowed now by guilt
I'll remain stoic
a predator to make the selfish, like them, prey
that taking of innocence to "seize the night"
to satisfy an emptiness in their lack of compassion.
|| another_proser ||
P.S. Translations not necessary for the challenge, though are often helpful to new readers trying to understand your perspective!
* my #jumbletongue is NOT eligible to win, obviously.
Jumper
Invisible breath of nature whistles;
It stings my northern air holes and energy pockets.
I can hear transportation machines below.
My sight see-ers squeezed shut provide a dark veil.
I don't have to see.
Strands of my dead head cells playfully whip my canvas of initial viewing.
I slowly raise my most useful bending appendages and turn up my palms.
I feel the breath of nature.
She longs to bear my weight.
She whispers a comforting hiss of impenetrable noteless song around me.
She holds me.
My twiddling doodads ache in the cold.
My lengthy adorning material perform with her lovingly in a serenading and sensual step.
I listen.
There is peace within the many engine hums.
There is peace within the absence of light.
There is peace in my love affair with the wind.
They carry me; eyes shielded by ever falling flesh barriers.
The steady rumble of the hungry thousand pound monsters below,
the darkness,
The wind.
They become my last religion; and I their diligent disciple.
They beckon.
I give myself to them.
They embrace and coerce me...
Down.
Field of Poppies
Wind ceases roiling innards
gusto broken evermore
quoth the raven, claret beak
dust baskets spirited away
polished holders of rank and file
ferried by sad harbingers
talking heads spouting gabfest
chanting lyrics more than 50
toppers perched marbled dome
somber pumpkins
upside down frown
spiky support cushions
damsels’ hooves
tromping loner rank
field of poppies salted drops
stone icons shout, no sound
white images whisper greetings
garbled readings puffing truth
alone at last, God’s acre.
Fatal Reaction
Blood shot eyes
Pale white skin
She loves those highs
She's at it again
Stopped blood flow
Tied off wrist
The pain will go
She clenches her fist
Needle in hand
Heroin inside
Misunderstand
The times she had lied
Skin is broken
Plunger pushed down
Words unspoken
Lips in a frown
Help is needed
But not received
She feels seceded
That pain relieved
Passing of time
Mind in a fog
This one crime
Causing a bog
Heart growing fast
Body convulsion
Life surpassed
By liquid expulsion
Words left unsaid
Hid were her actions
And now she lay dead
What a fatal reaction
Gradient
When I was one, I picked up a book and taught myself to read.
When I was in second grade, I taught my class a song in sign language and directed the performance in our school theater.
When I was in fifth grade, I learned my second instrument.
When I was in eighth grade, I won a mock trial case.
When I was in ninth grade, my depression was just starting to creep up.
When I was in tenth grade, my only friend at school was my history teacher in room 104.
When I was in twelfth grade, I went to therapy for the first time.
My life became like one of those paint swatches that show a gradient of colors. But this one was longer and ranged from colors like Unicorn Horn Pink to Color Me Crazy Crimson to a Cute Cornflower Blue and back again.
But one color it never reached was Gone For Good Black. I didn't let it. When the Color Me Crazy Crimson became too much I searched frantically for that Unicorn Horn Pink to lighten it up. Sometimes I found it quickly and the bad days weren't so bad anymore. Often times I didn't though. Each day came closer and closer to that one dreaded hue and the bad days became worse. I always found it somehow though; I wouldn't be here if I didn't. Now I keep that light, fluffy pink near me at all times. It does wander off sometimes, but Not for long. I'm not ready for Gone For Good Black yet.
And it's not ready for me.
No Escape.
I'm a prisoner of sadness trapped in my own head, and I'm held hostage by these thoughts as they are slaves of my depression.
I slam into the bars of my cage in an attempt to escape my end, but the bars left bruises on my shoulders and my eyes filled with tears.
I pretended to believe that I could get out alive and now I know that these thoughts are going to kill me and there's nothing I can do.
There is no escape.
My sorrows weighted me down and down, deeper until the bars of my cage were no longer visible and I gave in to the dark nothingness. Though it was dark and cold, it held me tight until I was so cold it burned.
I felt a comfort as if the darkness was my family and this place was my home.
Then came the water that started to fill the cold, damp home I had taken refuge in.
It crawled up my body as cold as ice. I did not move.
It came up to my face and I watched it close over my head. Still, I did not move.
Death was inviting, like an old friend.
And that was the end of the girl I thought I could become.
That was the end of The Future Me.