My Mind

Brush the top of my mind. What's there? What do you see lurking in the shadows of my thoughts? Can you see the blackness? Can you feel the cold? The ice and the emptiness? Lurking in my soul? Can you hear the screaming? A melody. Bitter sweet. Can you taste the burning flesh? A dance of flames. Upon innocent skin. Can you smell the dying? It lingers in the air. The thick perfume of decay. Over powering the dwindling fragrance of life. Wrapping it in its black velvet embrace until its breath and joy have ceased. Faltered. Failed. It smells here of rotting flowers, molding on the corpse of some forgotten maiden. Expired matchsticks, only just blown out by the stale breath of some half dead demon. Aged Blood, long since run cold in the veins of some unknown victim. That is the aroma of my world. Can you smell it now? Mixed with ash and sulfur that the white hot flames spit into the laden air. Try. Pull it into your lungs. Take a deep breath. Go on. You'll only find what I have . You cant breath here... why do you try.... If you are smart. Throw yourself to the welcoming fire. She dances like a gypsy. Her raven eyes and blood red hair. They beckon. "Come to me. My love will warm your broken heart" and if you look. Very carefully. You will find. Somewhere. With in the catacombs and headstones of this place. A tomb. Though it is not an ordinary tomb. On no. Its walls. Where they should be made of stone, and straight. Are made up of winding vines, half encircling up as a dome. Remnants of some life it once held. Coursing though its now black, dead vines. There is no entrance to this tomb. Not a single window. Or door. Or narrow passage. The vines have grown thorns. Long, wicked and cruel looking things. This Un-natures way of warning those who would dare to stay away. However. Where one to find some way into this place. Some means of passage that would grant them entry alive, to say the least. They would find.... nothing. The ground, not more than blackened layers of the ash falling from the sky like snow. There is a ledge there. In the back. The far back. A rather large one... where from. A tree is rooted. Enormous. Raising its dead branches and body well out of the tomb. The vines snarled around it where it has made its exit. And if you look. Oh so carefully. At the charred remains of what was once the roots. Can see. Entangled in them. Sleeping perhaps. Some form. With pale skin in striking contrast to the black world around it. The ash settled upon the face causing it to take on a gray, death like pallor. Lips blue from the cold harsh winds. Hair mussed and tangled with the tree itself. A girl. Garments in tatters. Some ruby blood still glittering where the vines have encircled her wrists. Who is this?.......... This poor frail, dying soul. There upon the ledge, incased forever in her own prison. Why this is no other than.......Me ................ but.... it was not always this way...... my world was not always this perpetual hell. Captured beneath this cold, heartless moon. It was. Once upon a time. Beautiful. So, very, very beautiful. There was. If I recall. A place I would go. Some where with in me. A sheltered place. Surrounded by the most fragrant and lovely plants I have ever known. All sorts of marvelous shrubs. All growing together to form a canopy over my place. Their lush green, filtering the sunlight to make a myriad of patterns on the mossy floor. There was only one way in. And only I knew of it. No one else in the whole world could ever find my place. I would sit there, every day. My back against the warm, friendly bark of this grandfather tree. How I loved him. His wise branches reaching up. Up to the sun. High above my little haven. I would close my eyes and rest here. So far from the cold world of reality. In my small little peace. Surrounded by bright, pleasant flowers. And dancing butterflies. With silken wings, and lace feet. That tickled my skin as they landed upon it. And then. One day. I began to realize something. The sun there. It had begun to set. And though I could still enter with ease. I was finding it harder and harder to leave this place of solitude. Until. Eventually. I still remember the feeling. As I entered though the lush greens... they slowly began to thin, to disappear. And thrones reached out and tore at my skin. I tripped on a stone and landed in a thick blanket of dirt. Only, it wasn’t really dirt. I realized with some amount of horror I have yet to fathom. It was rotted flowers, leaves... and broken butterfly wings. My gaze tore up to grandfather tree. He seemed so sad. So sick. I scaled his stature with my eyes. He was exposed. Naked. His mighty branches drooped away from the sky. Seeming to tell me to stay with him. And I foolishly complied. Crawling over to his once warm welcome bark, fighting the tears threatening my eyes. Believing that I could make things perfect again. His bark was cold. No life was there. And I cried. For how long I don’t dare to imagine. But when tears cleared from my eyes, the vines had established their rule. And choked my poor grandfather tree. And he. In turn. Trying to cling to life. Had claimed me. As his bounty. To remain in his grasp for all times. I tried desperately to free my bound body. But the vines soon curled around my wrist. And throat. They held me still. And forced me to sleep. So now. I sleep here. It is a troubled and unhappy sleep. The vines and their cruel thorns surround me and wait for someone to enter. Thirsty for blood to quench their starving roots. And I wait. In my silence. In my pain. For one to come along. One to rescue me. Ultimately. From myself. To take me far away from here. My precious Night. My immortal palace.
Love.
Shelter.
Escape.
Haven.
Sanctuary.
Prison.
Mausoleum.
Death bed.
Grave.
Funeral.
Death.
Sentenced to all. By no other evil than. Myself.