The Lazarus Pit

Rusted metal head my splintered morning wood garner,
I unearth my backyard without a peep from the childhood pets now owned by a farmer.
Nevertheless a howling wind opposes my venture,
For I discovered the Lazarus Pit when I set aside my childish ways.
This is what it’s like to set aside my childish ways.
Toys that once distracted me I now bury deeper into life.

An angel fell dead at my feet in the middle of the night.
The blinds casted forth black and white stripes on its ethereal form ‘fore moonlight.
I waited ’til the Sun reclaimed his throne and ’til a cat got my tongue, As if nothing in this world was any better in the midst of it all.
Ceasing such beauty must be better in the midst of it all.
Liquid gold I let exalt me I now bury deeper into life.

His name served no purpose now that his soul contract has expired.
I recall he hugged my knees to beg for me to play with him but I was so tired.
This shovel must be held with gardening gloves modeled after the desperate damsel ‘fore me;
Unkindly strown on calloused hands to get the job done right.
Bragging ’bout a dismembered servant to get the job done right.
Untold mystery I tend to share I now bury deeper into life.

Sacrifice is all it took to rid myself of such ridicule.
Bugs from animal carcasses attached themselves onto the toys and their cadaver who was mistaken for a fool,
‘Tis I, longing a mate to aid me in digging a grave that’ll someday be robbed.
Black sludge isn’t praised for it’s easier to digest.
Desire relapse every night thus far for it’s easier to digest.
Dreams I yearn to dream I now bury deeper into life.

Just as I predicted with dark magic I try to prove is real,
My toys and my precedence rose from Gaia in a way that made me glad of the other end of the deal.
It went too far, however, or perhaps not far enough.
Soulless solace didn’t repel the bugs that were found scavenging my past,
As if I have control of who was found scavenging my past.
There is no fear that let me die as I now bury deeper into life.

I asked my mother where do babies come from.
She told me a stork drops them off but she killed it because it was so dumb.
I never agreed with her ’til now.
Bringing children into this world should be a crime.
Madness and despair that makes up this world should be a crime.
Toys and angels are forfeited by a regretful child as I now bury deeper into life.

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One Bad Day

I sat confined within the metal bars compressing me to a condensed version of an ambivalent world. Psychologist-infested daily routines didn’t always comprise my life’s entirety. It only took one bad day to rid me of my innocence forever.
Shadows spilled underneath my cot, behind the rusted toilet several paces away, and they ran away from the fluorescent lights twitching out in the corridor.
Red eyes glowed at night to accompany the darkness I fed earnestly throughout the day. It was an effective way to lose weight.
Years passed and so has three in-mates that took the pleasure of being my roommate. It came to the point where my past branched off into infinite alternate realities. That happens when you reach a certain age. Memories evolve into better or worse things depending on your mood.
I haven’t been outside since I moved in. The normies in their hospital scrubs always shut out the outside because I don’t deserve it anymore. All the other Malvolos lost their rights to freedom too, they kid around with me.
At a certain time of day, the leader of the normies announce from the walls that the lights must go out. We retreat back into our catacombs while being driven out of the community room like cattle.
I don’t bother talking to the other outsiders because I sleep alone regardless. Nothing new happened since The Assault. So I laid in the dark letting the last remnants of my eluded past reframe my dreams once more.
The Sun always radiates as bright as I remember. Maybe it was a tad bit brighter back then. The birds chirp as they perch themselves onto the trees my mother constantly refused to cut down. Her baby blue car is warming up in the driveway. My older brother (always was taller than me) sits in the front seat while my mother says her goodbyes to my stepdad. She is plotting against me with him. Then she glances at me, massaging her back and leaning on her scepter, and asks me if I’m positively sure if I want to stay at home instead of going with them to the local supermarket. I assure her that grocery shopping with her was as boring as school.
Then suddenly it’s nighttime and I skip forward past the awkward stage of puberty into the fathoms of adulthood. I’m closing up shop. Putting away spare boxes into the complacent shelves. I walk up to the entryway door to transform the “come on in, we’re open” sign to the “sorry, we’re closed” sign. But there’s this really sexy twink knocking softly on the glass. I yell out that we’re closed but he insisted on coming in to talk to me. He wants me to do it to him, I’m positive.
So the car drives itself away like fate so anxiously wanting to lay down its foundation. I give a quick smile to my stepdad just to be polite before going into my room to play some videogames. But that smile I flash at him is a green light for him to pursue me.
I lead him to my office in the basement where I let the cobwebs materialize out of thin air. The young man looks so happy with his manila folder (most likely holding his resume) gently against his chest. He says he heard a lot about me from the press and assures me that he wants nothing more than to work for me.
I just want to go home. But he sits down across from me. He unzips his white jacket, beckoning me to admire his physique. Then he carefully hangs his hoodie on my coat rack. His shirt is a v-neck. The young man has tempting-looking chest hair. It is more than obvious that he yearns for my touch.
He knocks on my door and told me to help him clean up the house to surprise my mother when she gets home. I reply if he pays me money, I’ll do whatever he wants me to do. My stepdad giggles playfully as he barges into my room and unplugs my game console. That is the last straw. He answers my unexisting plea to take away my virginity. It sucks cus the least he can do is pay me afterwards but sometimes he doesn’t.
I get up soon after the young man sat down to lock my office door for privacy from my employees who went to their respective homes an hour before. I tell him that I’m not currently hiring at this point in time but I can reconsider if he admits he’ll do anything if I pay him to do it. I stole his smile. A scared expression is left behind on his face while I tear his smile off his porcelain face.
Masturbation had lost its fun since I no longer had an audience. The buzzing of the night light kept me up all night long. I didn’t sleep a wink. I crack myself up sometimes as my laughter fills the empty void. Just when I think I lost my mind entirely, I lose it a little bit more. I can no longer plant this seed anywhere other than my bedsheets. My bed wanted me to cultivate this undead garden, hardening along with the red eyes across the room reminding me that I had an audience after all. A sexy doctor peeked into my room, beckoning me to take his smile away from him too.

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In distress

Part two of Damsel

A stained piece of parchment had been delivered to the king’s residence. A servant, whose domain was the front lobby, found it odd that the letter had nothing written on the outside. Usually a note’s exterior donned the name of who it’s from and who it’s addressed to. A turquoise insignia was melted onto the paper to seal it securely. He immediately made his way through the radiant labyrinth of mess halls he knew so well after 15 years on the job.
Upon entering the king’s chambers, the servant still clasped the bronze doorknob even after the fact to see the queen nursing herself back to health again. Her face was painted black and blue from a palette of limited colors. She gasped at the sound of the doorhinges being swung on its axis in fear of her loving tormentor.
Oh dear, he thought to himself, the king is drunken on the shipment of ale that arrived early this morning…. So he went by her side, standing near the window outlooking the courtyard in the center of the kingdom’s folly. Perhaps this letter held the contents of news that could cheer her up, the servant thought to himself before nonchalantly handing it to her.
A quick smile flashed on his face for just a split second like most people do when they sympathize with someone. But the queen didn’t imitate it for she wasn’t as positive and hopeful as he was.
A letter opener had been picked up off her husband’s study to carefully unfasten the piece of parchment. Together they both peered at the words scribbled in haste saying, “Have you wondered where your daughter was all day? In case you were, I’ll have you know I have your precious little girl. Meet me at the dock in Cape Forke by dawn with one million shillings or your kingdom will suffer a great loss.”
No! Terror was paved on her face. Tears streamed down in waves. Her manservant lended his royal highness his handkerchief before beginning his departure to find the king for aid. But she already knew this and forcefully grabbed his arm and shook her head fast.
Instead of alerting the king of the sudden leap of absence, they managed to make it to the vault where all their gold and other worldly possessions stayed covered in dust. The queen filled up bags and bags of shillings as the servant held a wheelbarrow in place until there was as much as the kidnapper desired. All while the queen snifled every few seconds in realization that her daughter was in grave danger! As if she wasn’t already under the king’s rule.
Both of them stealthily journeyed through the halls without getting detected by another soul. The queen eventually reached the back doorway trailing behind her servant before lightly closing the doors behind her. But incidentally, they were left open just a crack.
Dawn neared its approach into that day’s existence. The zenith of darkness before light would encase their world once more. The wheels of the wooden wheelbarrow skipped on the planks on the dock like a schoolboy skipping towards the playground. Once they nearly reached the outstretched hand of the Cape, they stopped midway before a ship pulled into view. The woodsman tied his boat onto the dock’s edge.
The queen and her only friend watched anxiously as the mysterious man rudely ushered his captive into plain sight. A sob held in since opening the ransom note rushed out of the mother’s mouth in uncontrollable bursts. Isra wasn’t even crying nor struggling for her freedom, however. So at once, the servant began to make his way to the kidnapper with that he was requested to give him.
Suddenly, the Sun finally managed to peek out into view, blinding the criminal temporarily. Isra snatched the dagger from his makeshift robe-belt, stabbed the evil man square in his chest, grabbed the wheelbarrow and all its contents, ran back onto the boat, and cut the robe tying her to her past before sailing away.
The mother yelled fearfully, reaching her hand out towards the distant ship sailing off into the horizon, her hope getting smaller and smaller until it disappeared altogether. She would have probably dived into the ocean if it wasn’t for her manservant holding her back. So the queen sink onto her bruised knees with a yelp of pain, fully aware that she had to go back to the king empty handed.

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Damsel

Isra was such an odd name for a child, especially one from royal descent. At a ripe age of 13, such high expectations were placed on her for she would be the Queen someday.
However, she differed from her mother in many ways. Children should be seen and not heard, no one ever let her forget it. Her mother constantly reminded her that it’s always been that way. Rebellious preludes slowly tore Isra away from her family.
Her mother’s vacant, grey eyes bore into her before the curtain call. Any talk of adult things drowned out Sunday’s sermon with the help of locked doors.
The princess grew annoyed with being ignored. Sounds of anguish reverberated from the other side. Screams of agony emanated from the living alcove. But only her parents were in there. No kings of foreign nations. No queens of Saigon bent on revenge.
Perhaps some wars were fought at home.
Her long, blonde hair swayed valiantly as she jolted towards her bedchambers to collapse in seclusion. But before she reached her anticipated destination, Isra decided to trek out of the castle grounds instead. The bellowing wind sighed when the main doors were pushed wide open in a frenzy.
A lot of Isra’s studies were indoors and free time was hard to come by. But whenever leisure left holes in her daily routines, she treasured the outdoors. Birds intrigued her the most due to their fragile yet omnipresent nature. Wings granting the ability of flight, able to fly away at any time.
A bluejay landed on her index finger while she meandered down a hidden dirt path protruding from the open space and into the emerald canopy stretched over her. It bobbed its head instinctively in that awkward movement that most animals have mastered. Melodic chirping made Isra giggle soundlessly. Inevitably, it let go and dove into the open blue towards the heavens from whence it came.
Where the light recently bled through the openings made from newly bloomed leaves on outreached branches, a rush of cold air undulated heavily until it was as if the moon took its place prematurely.
Suddenly, a handsome yet middle-aged man stood against the bark of an evergreen tree. Obsidian locks spilled out of his hood. His hair may have been long but there was no essence of femininity surrounding his persona at all. Green eyes peeked out from beneath the fathoms of his robes.
The young girl’s mouth formed an “O.” All the air had been sucked out her lungs yet vehement attempts occurred to regain all oxygen. Fear took its toll. Isra saw the foreigner reach lucratively for a dagger held snugly in the robe tied around his slender waist. She didn’t wait for him to take anymore steps closer than he already had. Thank the Lord Isra chose not to wear the uncomfortable heels her mother wanted her to that day. These wooden shoes sufficed for running away from strangers in the woods. She dared to peek behind her to acknowledge that he didn’t even budge. Her glance aimed forward once more, but to her utmost dismay, Isra tripped over a makeshift snare. Ultimately, the snare enacted a net to snatch the princess straight from the earth to mid-air. A ravenous shriek escaped her chapped lips. The woodsman, she realized he was, strutted towards her before her vision failed her….

(To be continued in… “In Distress”)

Feel free to like or comment on this post. I will always reply back to comments! And please check out my eBook: http://www.amazon.com/dp/B012BSPFCQ/ref=cm_sw_r_fa_awdm_EgmSvb1FDR2EB Thanks for reading 🙂