SnowfallsA Story by The Glassface
It's cold outside as usual. Such an unrelenting, bitter chill; the king
of the dead would shiver. For a half a year, little lives are forced to
endure some endless culling leading to a proposed glory day that no one
ever heard of. Everything recedes into a cumbersome, essential,
unbreakable routine awaiting for it's shot to burst back onto the scene
hungry for sex and warm sunshine. What hasn't retreated, tail tucked
beneath it's legs enjoys a few merry days before it freezes beneath an
avalanche of put offs.
Christmas, New Year's Eve, Thanksgiving and a plethora of humanity's larger family oriented holidays crop up an awful lot around this harrowing period. Coincidentally, suicide rates increase drastically during the bleak, endless white and black wonderland filled time as well. I couldn't see past the hill, the snowstorm had caught me in a flurry of torrential flecks of stinging ice. Waves of wind crashed abound me, encircling me in ghosts of the past screaming unintelligible names and tales of sin in my ears. Pushing forward, each step seems to require every aching inch of my will to continue. Synapses fired off, a twenty one gun cluster f**k telling me to turn back or face extinction and a forgotten memory's fate face down in a land that would swallow me whole and forget my name ever escaped those beautiful lips. That obsidian hair, falling softly around her dancing jewels awaiting words that I only wish I knew. I've been here before. This is where I shine. The only time I can manage to be myself in it's entirety is the moment before I'll die. I love the face that stares back and the noises in my brain screaming for a pause to all the madness life has to offer. My eyes burned. There's not a soul that would know The pain of a river that once long ago flowed The tired winds come down with sharp surprise Breaking back these concrete lies So, nothing left but snow. Only time will show the will to slow. Question's “Will you go?” Oh © 2010 The Glassface |
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