With every sound you

Echo

Repeat

But it's never

Quite

The same

I call out and ask

"What lives have been lost to the hours?"

Echo

"Our's"

And never once

Does a shape appear

Long since withered

Bones

Turned

To

Dust

Lonely Echo

Remains in voice only

To repeat forever

From Hera's curse

Shunned by Narcissus

As though an albatross

Echo

"Loss"

Flowers on the river

Making circles on the water

Drowning me beneath them

Gasping for air

I only swallow water

Until I sink beneath the waves

Into the infinite depths below

Convictions fallen into a void

Faster they fall but without speed

No movement, just distance

Forever and on; only nothing

Is it stars that pass by?

Are there galaxies being left behind?

Or is it just the reflection of what wasn't

And of what could never be

We are the universe

We are stars and we are galaxies

We are an extension of all of creation

To experience itself

There is no reason

For the random chance that is our lives

That is you - that is me

But we can love and we can be

And if there is no meaning

And there is no grand scheme

Perhaps we can make our own

Slay the dragon and become the child

Convictions fallen into a void

But there is no sense of direction

Perhaps we are rising above and beyond

Past all our mistakes and into a better end

She stepped out into the night

The cold air revealing her breath

As she tried to steady her breathing

The daydream caught up again

She stared up at the night sky

With the stars like so many eyes

Reveling in the chaos of so many lives

Her thoughts began to dance

We will ever know

Can we ever know

Just what it means

To be loved

She forgot the cigarette in her hand

As it burned down to her fingers

Snapping her back to the world

She tossed it into the dark

The flame flickered for a moment

As it began to fade away

She watched the smoke rise into the night

And drift into the stars

Are we capable

Of finding ourselves

Of being one

With what we are

She walked on toward her apartment

The cool air comforting her

From the days that had taken so much

She focused on the night

And knowing the feeling

Of equally returned love

She walked a little slower

As she looked on toward the mural

That rested on the old brick wall

And she began to dream again

Drifting forms

Echoed by something

Lying with me

Beanth the lavender sky

And hazelnut tree

Hey, I see through you

Pale and shapeless

You holy pink mist

Hey, I will never leave

Old and exhausted

But still here

Don't leave me behind

You pale colour of mine

I'll meet you tonight

Beneath the lavender sky

And hazelnut tree

Hey, as you can see

Nothing's gonna change

You'll wander here again

Hey, you pink cloud of mine

Hey, you formlessly devine

You'll always see me again

We'll always meet

(Hey, you)

Beneath the lavender sky

(Don't forget me)

And hazelnut tree

In devastation we weep

Onto muted solitary fields

Where pastel flowers grow too deep

And the ink of our sorrow congeals

Snarls in the bedroom

Hiding the underlying lullaby

A beautiful sonnet of our doom

It's the end that we decry

Will your pretty teeth meet my neck

My acrylic blood gracing your tongue

Can we keep the end in check

Or will you taste the songs I've sung

Will we see the vibrant sunrise

Can we stop this emotional coup

Or will we fall in our dreams of demise

And fade like the flowers do

You walk along the slight incline of the road. The wind whips around you, howling and chilling you as if to tell you that you are not welcome. You do not know how long you have been walking. From how cold and red your face is you could wager it’s been at least half an hour, maybe a little longer. You can’t seem to remember where you’re going. You know that she told you to meet her there though. Who is “she” though? You don’t have a name, face, clue or any idea where “there” even is. You just know you’re walking.

Another ten minutes or so go by without any change. The sun is still somehow rising. Or is it setting? You’re not sure. Keep walking. All around is a flat and empty landscape. There are no trees, buildings, hills, landmarks, animals, people, structures of any kind, only the occasional car, each seeming to appear in and out of reality without ever really going anywhere. One such car, a black four door SUV, rushes past, barreling into the endless horizon. When you look away, and it’s already gone, despite the endless stretch of road ahead, it disappears just as every other one before it did. You don’t really take notice of that though, you’re focusing on the birds. Too many to count, just birds and birds and birds all perched on the branches of some hibernating tree, making it seem alive with leaves again. Where did the tree come from? The landscape was flat and devoid of life a moment ago. You keep walking, never taking your eyes off the birds. They’re sparrows, hundreds of them. You don’t know why you can’t look away, there’s just something about it. Is it beautiful? Peaceful? Uncanny? You do not know. You turn away from the birds and notice a turn in the road. The birds begin to chirp.

You didn’t have to turn. You could have kept walking along the same road you were on. You don’t think of that though. You know that “there” is this way. You’re sure of it, not a hint of doubt in your mind, you don’t know how though. You don’t think about how you don’t know. You just keep walking. The wind has died down a bit here. It’s still present but you can feel the warmth return slightly to your face. How long ago did you make the turn? Five minutes? Fifteen? You can’t seem to remember. As you walk, the chirping of the birds doesn’t gradually become more quiet, instead staying the same volume. Trees have also started to sprout around you, not as in you are walking up to them but they are quite literally sprouting and growing rapidly around you, getting denser and denser. The woods have begun to encroach upon the road, and you realize that the sun is setting, it’s gotten darker. Are you scared? You’re not, are you? That’s good. You have a long way to go. You’re sure of this. As you continue down the road, kicking pebbles out of the way, you spot a trail off to your right. It’s separated from the road by a small slope. The trail itself is covered in a thin layer snow though you can’t remember the last time it snowed. It’s still fresh. Not a footprint, human or otherwise, can be seen.

It’s been a little while since you started walking down this trail. Why did you do it? You don’t think it’s down here, do you? Maybe you do. The wind has died off but its but much colder than before. It’s also getting dark now. Or has it been like this for awhile? You don’t know. You don’t care. You keep walking, your boots crunching along the frozen earth, that familiar almost comforting sound. Crunch. Crunch. Crunch. The birds are getting louder.

You’re back along the road, the sun has just begun to rise, you are warm and content. How did you get here? Weren’t you in the woods? Don’t stop. You are almost there. You keep walking, cars passing you by infrequently, still disappearing into nothing just as swiftly as they appear. Like torchbugs they blink in and out. You don’t notice them. You’re focusing on nothing. Nothing is focusing, rather intently, on you.

You keep walking. Where are you? Why is it dark? Didn’t the sun just rise? You’ve gone too deep in the woods. Maybe you should turn back. You’re lost. The trees have engulfed the path behind you. Only the one in front remains. You keep walking. You keep walking. You keep walking. What was that sound? Something amidst the birds. You keep walking. There it is again. Did you hear that? You keep walking.

You’re there. You see your friend, waiting outside her car. She waves you down and you both head toward the door of the old house. Your friend opens the door, the scent of mold and dust assault your nostrils. You step inside

How long have you been in these woods?

You’re in a decaying room decorated in the style of the 1950s.

Get out of the woods. Turn back, run through the trees if you have to, something is out here.

You’re tired. Too tired. It feels like you’ve been here for hours. How long have you been in this house?

Keep running. You don’t know what’s behind you but you have to get away.

You reach the end of the path. You’re friend is waiting for you outside her car. She greets you with a smile and the too of you approach it. You remember now, don’t you? It’s that old abandoned home, it’s been empty for years. You both head inside.

It’s getting closer. The trees have completely swallowed the path. You’re running through the woods, unable to navigate so you just run. Aimlessly. You’re getting more lost but it doesn’t matter, you need to get away. Keep running! Run! Run! Run! Run! Don’t look back. Run! Run! Run! Run! Run! Run! Don’t look at it. Run! Run! Run! Run! Run! Run! It’s too late, isn’t it? Run!

Where’s your friend?

#fiction

Slow grooves

And plastic moods

I like quiet nights

And neon lights

But you're cool too

Let's drive far away

Till the night becomes day

We can just sit and rest

Catching our short breaths

And making habits out of mistakes

Let go of all your worries

And focus on the snow flurries

We don't need to rush through this

Just embrace the capsule's chill kiss

Because we won't last the night

Sit and stay, at least till sunrise

We'll sort out the end and say goodbyes

When we've exhausted your stash

And the last of my cash

Because we don't have to think about tomorrow

Slow grooves

And dulled out moods

I like quiet nights

And neon lights

But this is fine too

#poetry

Gray skies and heavy snow

Hearts full of apathy and constant lull

Despite the contradictory show

There are hands to hold us down

I am just like you, I too exist

Desperately blind within the mist

Sulking at every opportunity we missed

We don't have it in us to change

Dull eyes create vapid stares

Dreams now realised as nightmares

Our future darkens with the last flares

Of the fire that once burned inside

Our lanterns barely flicker

The bog has infected us, we're sicker

We begin to sink, struggle; quicker

Come the hands to hold us down

Buried beneath a cold curse

A cruelty we can never reverse

Our dreams were so much worse

Than the hands that hold us down

#poetry

You’re in a decaying room decorated in the style of the 1950s. Aged and water damaged floral wallpaper line the moldy walls. The lights that work are dim and flicker at times. All the windows are boarded up or blocked by something keeping all outside light from entering. The only thing you hear is odd, almost inaudible music and occasional unidentifiable sounds. You wander the living room to find the old tube tv still on playing static, you think of sitting down on the old couch. You’re tired. Too tired. It feels like you’ve been here for hours. How long *have* you been here anyway? Minutes? Hours? Days? You *know* it couldn’t have been that long but how can you be sure? This isn’t the first time you’ve asked that question you know.

Now you find yourself wandering the seemingly endless hallways, some of which don’t have any doors for what feels like miles, while others leave no space between them. Maybe you should check inside some; your friend might in one of those rooms. That’s right you entered with someone else. What was her name? Doesn’t matter much now, she’s clearly gone; but when did she leave? You don’t remember her but she was with you when you first entered. What was her name? You keep walking the halls and eventually find yourself in what looks to be a basement despite never going down any stairs. Or did you? It’s getting harder to remember the details, isn’t it?

The walls here are made of moist and moldy stone. You pass large steel doors and you can faintly hear sobbing behind one of them. You try to open it but it’s locked and when you pull harder you hear screaming from within. You call out and the screaming continues intermixed with tear choked cries for you to go away.

The walls here are made of moist and moldy stone. You pass several large steel doors but they’re all locked and quiet so you keep walking. How long have you been down here? How did you get here? Weren’t you in an a house? You don’t remember so you keep walking.

You’re in a decaying room decorated in the style of the 1950s. Aged and water damaged floral wallpaper line the moldy walls. The lights that work are dim and flicker at times. All the windows are boarded up or blocked by something keeping all outside light from entering. You take notice of the music again. Has it been playing the whole time? Where is it coming from? How did you get here?

You walk up the stairs to the second floor and enter the first room you find. Inside is a small bed stained with old blood, someone is sitting in a chair facing the eastern corner. They don’t react to you entering. You move closer and place a hand on their shoulder hoping it’s your friend. They jerk violently and scream at your touch, spasming and contorting all while pulling at the straps holding their wrists and ankles in place. They let loose a blood choked cry before becoming still.

You walk up the stairs to the second floor and enter the first room. It’s empty so you try the next only to find every room oddly clean and devoid of furniture. You go back down stairs and remember that you had a friend. You weren’t always alone. Where did she go? What was her name? How many times have you asked that already? Do you remember asking it before?

You find yourself in what looks to be a basement despite never going down any stairs. Or did you? It’s getting harder to remember the details, isn’t it? You pass several steel doors and open one. Inside is your friend, she’s sobbing and chained to the wall. There’s blood stains around her and you can hear whispers from the room next to this one but can’t make out what they’re saying. You walk closer to her and she turns to face you.

You’re in a decaying room decorated in the style of the 1950s. Aged and water damaged floral wallpaper line the moldy walls. The light from the outside fills the room and you notice that it must be around 5 giving the way the sun lingers just above the horizon. What time did you enter? Do you remember if the sun was rising or setting then? Maybe it was midday. Where’s your friend?