Sometimes.../The Dark

Some stuff I wrote a long time ago... try and enjoy it without hurting yourself ;)

Sometimes...

Thoughts keep moving
Through my mind,
Like waves on a beach,
Meeting their end
On that shore of ideal.
I can never keep track
Of what I'm thinking,
Because these thoughts
And memories...
They're just like a flock
Of lost birds through
The empty sky...
Not that my head is
Empty... or is it?
In any case, thoughts
Are SO hard to maintain,
And writing becomes a
Chore, rather than a hobby.
And, like always,
The mood dies
And I miss that train...
Again and again.
What can I say?
Someday... it gets better.


The Dark

Let me tell you a STORY:

There was a boy,
who had it all.

But then SHIT HAPPENED,
Death happened,

And he fell, very far, into the
dark, where he found people,
exactly like him-

just
like
him.

And he devised a plan, to
ESCAPE.

But when the time came,
he lifted everyone out of that hole,
The Dark.

And found that no one was left
to lift him up...

and everyone had
run away...

and no one would
pull him up.

And he waited.
And waited.

A Faded Memory

An excerpt from []

INITIUS: PENUMBRA

Clack clack

Clack clack

The train quickly rumbled its way over the bridge, letting off a groan like a giant beast. Rivers of blue sparkled below, reflecting the surreal peaks of mountains in the clear water. Along the train rushed, carrying its cargo of tired workers and exhausted employees home.

People sat quietly, reading newspapers and listening to music. The ones where stood constantly checked and rechecked their watches, sighing and fidgeting. On the edge of the train, one boy sat in a seat too large for him, his face and hands pressed to the window, leaving a smear of fingerprints and oils across the glass. The colorful sights passed by in the blink of an eye, leaving a stain of flashing colors just across his field of vision. He could vaguely glimpse his reflection in the glass, like a phantom twin staring back at him.

He clasped his mother’s hand as he turned back around. It was warm; a contrast to the cold metal seat he was perched on and he felt it squeeze as she looked down at him. Wind suddenly whistled through the train as it entered a tunnel, buckling the passengers back and forth like a bulls at a rodeo. The boy held tight as he swayed, almost falling off his seat and into the sudden darkness. He could still hear the tired voices of the passengers, but the old-style train had no interior lights, and now the quiet whispers seemed like they were emerging from his own head, and the darkness surrounding him.

A quick, brief flash of light illuminated the faces of the rail users as the train passed under a gap in the tunnel wall. In quick succession, a number of these gaps passed by, flickering the features of the people in and out of the darkness, like an old slideshow. The boy held his mother’s hand, and even though he took comfort from the warmth, the darkness scared the child in him, and the flashing faces appeared to belong to monsters of the dark, rather than human beings. Even as he looked up, his mother’s face seemed foreign and odd in the sputtering light.

Seconds dragged into minutes, minutes into countless time. The rhythmic pounding of the wheels on the metal tracks became a soft and slow lullaby; the flashes of light were nearly hypnotic, and the warm air like a thick blanket. He could feel his eyes slowly drifting into sleep, and even as he held his mother’s hand tightly, his dreams tore him away, sending him plummeting into his inner darkness.