10-15-15

10-15-15

 

Under the dark seeds of man matures the new chance for life.  Death is only a beginning for most but as the soul rots with sin so does chance to redeem itself.  There is no reason why mankind cannot be less indulged in tyranny.  You believe we are the tyrants but we do not impose war for trivial reasons.  We do not judge one another based on skin tone, speech or religious differences.  In conclusion we are not the monsters.  Humans have become a force unto themselves.  Have you any idea how they might right their wrongs?  Some of us long to help while others strive to destroy but do not lump us all into one category although that is what humans seem to do best.

It burns in my soul, pulses in my veins, for the desire of wisdom is a complicated sin of mine and yes, I do consider it a sin. For in wisdom we forget innocence most times and in innocence is wonder and amazement. Still I seek such a thing, knowing wisdom may very well be one of mankind's downfalls and perhaps the end to life. And if you disagree...take a look at our weapons and technology. Take a look at news media and the whole lot. I believe the end will come sooner than most think and we have humans to blame. I pick up a crushed rose some person plucked and stomped on with their boots and I let my tears fall on its pedals. To think...cruelty has become a part of human nature sickens me.

Falling on my senses I shiver in the cold embrace of sorrow longing for what will never be has made me realize life is a haunted dream where we are toys in an endless game of good and evil.    

Falling deeper...into another self.  I become she and she is me.

Lone in passion, lone in love, she picked up her gun and stared into the cold barrel. It was as though she was staring into a black eye that promised her something great at the expense of death. She sat a solitary figure against a backdrop of black. It might as well have been a symbol for her whole life. Isolated in this shell she saw no escape from the growing emptiness. She was forever destined to be alone. Hope abandoned her. It alienated her from ever again exploring the possibilities of a fresh start. As she slid the steel into her mouth she swiveled in her chair. She always cared for the view of the stars and this night would be her last.

She thought it over a moment then reached for a pen in a cup that had once been a neighbor of various other articles and magazines. In her haste her hand brushed the plastic rim and multicolored writing utensils scattered. As she wrote she felt the power surge through her. As before she anticipated whatever might controlled the diary would once more bring to life whatever she desired as long as it was filled with hateful ambition..

As her features resumed normal functions she straightened. There was little to do but assume what had transpired was nothing more than a daydream. Her shadow blotted out the moon and for a moment she sat in murky depths with only the shimmer of green screen cast across her face.

Don't listen to the voices!

Decayed walls bent and projected bulging cracks where blood oozed. Nothing made sense anymore. She was broken. This she could no longer deny. She clamped her eyes shut. She grimaced. The craft of chaos weaved about her. It rushed heat to her face and she felt her ears become hot. Her mind spun around a whirlwind of white blooming behind her lids. It sparked and unrolled before her a vision of nothingness. She wished for screams to cease and madness to retreat; for what powers she bestowed without caution to dwindle.