The House

The house is wrong tonight…..
The house is dark tonight….
The house is empty tonight….
We that remain hide….
Take refuge from the night….
Mighty cat joins us alone….
The house is wrong tonight….
The house is quiet tonight….
The house has too many shadows….
While there are no lights….

The house is wrong tonight….
The house is empty tonight….
The house has lost it’s soul….
The house is dying tonight….
And it is awakening from the depths….
Stealing every last soul on its way….

The house is wrong tonight….
Filled with dreadful silence….
For all the world to hear….
And none shall ever notice….
The house that screams….
Empty in the night….

A Story Untold, Pt. 1

Once upon a time has been used, perhaps, in this setting, just once, too many times. No, this will not be a happily ever-after fantasy. I’ll save for those poor souls who need it more that journey. Quite instead, I think we’ll begin ours a bit, differently this time ’round. You see, I’ve never been one to be able to sit and write quite so easily; finishing a story in its entirety, but rather, offer extreme glimpses over the whole of a lifetime. Mayhaps this time shall be different, I hope.

Oh, I don’t recall so easily how, or even why I ended up sitting down at that moment, but it was crucial that I did. More so, that I begin writing down my thoughts as they quickly, almost quietly slipped past my conscious. These words needed to be writ before it was too late to capture them. See here now, that once the thought has occurred in such a manner, nay shall it be allowed to do so the same again. And shouldn’t that be the point of it all? To have the stroke of genius strike but only once to a man? No, I didn’t think so either, least before sitting down that night.

Sadness is a human affliction, or so we’ve been lead to believe. Rather differently I believe, it is an affliction of life. One that spans all creatures, regardless if they have higher functions or not. Though there are different levels of sadness, to be felt by each, at different times, and with different intensities, there are some to whom, rather unfortunately, must deal with great shades of pain and sadness, all within a single lifetime of living. Then there are those poor souls, who must deal with it all in extremely short spans of time. Some turn to dull the pains brought, others are driven made by it. While some, much like myself, abuse it in order to bring new life from it. We don’t control it, but we also don’t let it control ourselves. We simply respect it, learn from it, and every now and then, ride the waves as they come crashing.

See here, this writer’s heart, mind, and soul have all been through levels of hell unfathomable to others. But yet here it wrote this, still kicking, fighting, dying. It’s oft been writ before, and to be so again, of the pain and suffering that we’ve journeyed through together. It’s been broken, abused, and used more times than care to recall. It’s also known immense joys within incredible sorrows. Yet all three continue to press forwards. There are times, oh there are many times, when it all comes swelling once more within. A few stray tears will fall, and the room heavy, will grow. But the journey still continues to carry forth from depths once unknown.

Sunday Mornings

It’s 5:30 in the morning
Too early to be awake today so far
Darkness still swirling
Groggy feeling impaired
As the shadows continue to dance on the walls

Toss and turning in circles
Limbs flying every which way
Making music that no one can hear

Winds deadly howl darkens the way
As each branch snaps impaling the air
It’s not enough to stop the derailing dreams
Falling circles of dresses twirling around
More shadows they seem to add on the wall

In all the chaos ensuring demise
Hundreds of dreams came and go
Still they go on and on

Shadows sweeping criss-crossing the rooms
Sun glowing deeply as it’s time to hide
Morning is coming
As those dreams start to fade for the sky
Screaming softly that no one can hear

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What Distance Costs

Every day a struggle to find my way thru
Every day the marathon of taunting thoughts
Wrecking havoc ready to break free of me
Set aside the madness focus on the child

No one seems to understand what it really means
Living lies inside this head to make it thru the night
How far away the travel stays to take away
The miles racked up in between mountains and the sea
No one seems to understand what this distance costs

Alone in this head is not a safe place to live
For if you could see me, could you be near me
After learning all the truths trapped inside
With it’s long dark roads winding inside mazes

The child is long now lost unable to understand this
How many miles of traveling must be made
The woman by my side, seems I make her cry
With lonely distance the only thing at her side
No one seems to understand what this distance costs

Thousand miles here and there seems like nothing
But only to those not out there with me
Forget cross-country but mountains from the sea
Those winding roads slowly killing me

As I make my way to and from
My loving ones to my home
Six-hundred miles in the night
Is quite the sight
As I barrel down the roads

No one seems to understand what it really means
Living lies inside this head to make it thru the night
How far away the travel stays to take away
The miles racked up in between mountains and the sea
No one seems to understand what this distance costs

No one seems to understand what this distance demands
The sacrifices being made for the few hours one day
A heavy heart drives the car with eyes watery
For it’s two weeks time we must depart
But no one knows what this distance costs….

It’s broken hearts every time I say goodbye
With teary eyes for every mile I drive
A worn and battered soul
With a woman and a child waiting
For me to drive home along more lonesome miles

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Last In Line

Well it’s been too damn long
And now I’m too damn old
Got lost between here and that old road
Too many miles have I walked alone

His hands now gone to guide my path
Her memories are all that’s left
As each day is further from
When they both left

Years flown by with months they cry
As the past travels back in time
To days when they were still alive
Where memories were being made to live

Though they’re gone from their lives
Memories have survived the graves
As the little child trapped inside
Breaks down and hides

While the realization quickly sinks
He’s now the last in line
With no more living behind
He’s left lost out in the crowd

But all his life, he’s been raised
To live a life properly
Treat a wife how she deserves
And raise his kids same he was

Though the past now gone
Not to be replaced
The lessons once learned
Can’t be erased
But passed on down the line