Tree

there's a window,

but I only see the glass,

the trees are simmering, sizzling shadows
into my room.

the leaves caress the floor

and dance like a wild honeybee trying to find it's mate.

metaphors seem useless. lyrics cannot fathom.

words stand alone.

letters are accompanied by their lost lovers.
the opener's tears are pearls of joy,
found in the deepest part of an ocean.

careless images filter hearts

often to dry them.

wet. dry. soft. hard.

adjectives fail to reconcile feelings.
verbs are used as daggers.
nouns fall of the face of the earth.

yet all our hearts stand still
hand in hand,
looking at the simmering, sizzling shadows
of the leaves, kissing and caressing the floor.

Untitled

She walks, along a road
but doesn't find a path
hollowed entries
burned diary(ies)

he finds a pen
but nothing is written
burned paper(s)

The Chair Won't Move Itself

I am conjuring death today. Yes, death itself. I don't know if I'll be alive after I conjure him, but it is a risk I'm willing to take. You readers are probably wondering what this crazy man is talking about. Well, let me tell you. It all started with a dream. Yes, a dream. Not a dream filled with expectations and hard work, but a dream filled with rest and a good nights sleep. This dream was one of the most eerie dreams I've ever had. But, I've been told that dreams do this.

It started out as a simple tree in the dream. Yes, a tree. A being of nature. I was confronted by the god of nature himself, and I was given a chance to redeem myself. He told me that in my previous life, I was a murderer. After that I became human and stepped down to the streets, I looked around to examine the world around me. I saw pitchers pouring water by themselves, clocks moaning, and people with signs around their necks saying "Insomniac." I saw a man carrying a mirror, and in it I couldn't see myself. Finding all of this very weird, I started walking around, as if I was looking for something. I came across a building, and turned the corner to find a woman. She had a blank stare, which was gouging out my eyes. I couldn't stand looking at her; I quickly turned around and saw a bat flying at me. This was when I woke up. I thought I was covered in sweat, but no, I was only hot. I went back to sleep, and didn't dream after that.

The real mystery began the next day. I woke up, got ready, completely forgot about the dream, and went to work. It was a pretty slow day at work, so I decided to take a walk. I went out to the garden, and smelled the lilies. I closed my eyes for a second, savoring the smell. I opened my eyes and saw something that made me jump. I saw the woman. I blinked and she was gone. I went back home, thinking nothing of the glimpse I saw, or how normal her eyes looked.

I got home, and surprisingly fell right to bed. I had the same dream yet again. The only difference was that I started off as a normal person, instead of a tree. I saw the woman again, and this time for a longer time. This went on for some time. Every time the beginning of the dream got cut off, and I saw the woman for a longer period of time.

One day I decided to hijack the dream. I started dreaming and tried to tell my self that I could control it. It didn't work. I saw her blank stare again and woke with the bat coming towards my face.

I tried to figure out what was going on. I even went to a psychiatrist, who gave me pills. I took these pills and the dreams got worse. I went back to him and he gave me a stronger dose. I didn't take my chances with the pills again.

One day I went to the garden where I saw her there before. I sat down on a bench and closed my eyes. I felt something moving and sitting down beside me. I opened my eyes, and saw a man. He had on a top hat, wore a suit, and had a walking cane. He turned around and looked at me.

"So what do you think so far?" He said.

"What are you talking about?" I replied.

"My story!"

"What?"

"This, this whole world, the lilies, the dreams, the easy days at work, the woman!"

"How do you know about this?!"

"I know. I am the author. I created you."

"Yea...right."

"I did"

"Prove it."

"Close your eyes and all the lilies around you will be withered."

I closed my eyes and opened them to find all the beautiful lilies around me withered, like a lovers heart after it is broken. I stared at him.

"Do you believe me now?"

I didn't know what to say.

"You have been seeing that woman a lot lately, haven’t you?"

"…Yes, you sadistic freak! Why can't you write good stories about kings and queens and magic?"

"I am truly sorry about this."

"No, you are not."

"Look, before you go crazy on your creator, I have a favor to ask you."

"Hah! An author as a favor from a character? The tables have turned."

"This favor will benefit both of us, I am sure."

I did not reply back.

"It will make the woman disappear."

"Yes! Tell me what it is!"

"All right then. You see, that woman...is my wife."

"Your wife? She's horrid."

"Yes...well, she is because I've trapped her in this story."

"Quite a nice husband you are."

"I couldn't take what she was doing. All day going on about cars and purses and money. Screw money I say! If I can make, one person feel amazing while reading my story, who needs money?!"

"Well...enough speeches, how do I get rid of your horrid wife?"

"You have to kill her character."

"And, you can't do that because...?"

"I am an author, I do not kill, I create! Also, it is the rules that only a character can kill another character."

"You want me to kill your wife's character"

"Yes"

"How can I do that? I've never killed anyone, and I never will!"

"You can conjure death"

"Conjure death? You want me to call upon death it self?"

"Yes"

"Is that even possible? Isn't that dangerous?"

"You are without sin; therefore death will not kill you. I know how to conjure death, but I cannot. You will have to do it."

Upon this the strange man, who called himself the author, gave me a book. It was a blank book with an introduction in a weird language and below it was a paragraph on how to pronounce everything. I turned to look around, and to my surprise I found no one beside me. I went home, very puzzled, and sat down on my couch. I opened the book, and read it out loud, as best as I could. I felt the book rumble a little and stop. I flipped through the book to find that all of the pages were filled with markings and diagrams and words.

------

So, I sit here now trying to conjure death. Am I scared? Yes I am. But I shall read on to get rid of this horrid being this man calls his wife. I've started making the markings on the floorboards now, and I've started calling out the spells.

My windows are starting to say my name, and my door is growing a tongue which is calling for water. My doorbell just rang.I pressed on the buzzer to open the door. I heard heavy footsteps. My door opened. The tongue was swallowed, and there stood death.

He came in a casual manner and took out a stool from his robe. He sat down. Looked at me, and asked me "What do you need, oh sinless person?"

"I want you to kill someone" I replied.

"You want me to kill someone? A sinless man like you wants death to do him a favor?

"Yes"

"I will not do such deed."

"Why not?"

"I take life but I do not take life for a sinless man."

"Look, it’s not for me. It’s for the author of my life."

"You mean god?"

"Yes someone like him."

"I do no deeds for god."

"Its not god! It’s someone like him!" I started protesting.

"All right, fine, tell me, why do you want me to kill this person?"

"It’s a woman. She is the author’s wife, and she comes in my dreams, leaving me with no sleep."

"So a nightmare?"

"Yes, that’s exactly what it is."

"The author also wants her back."

"All right, fine I'll see what I can do. Killing a character is pretty tricky, especially if they have to go out there." He was pointing up.

"Out where?"

"Well, we'll leave this conversation for another time." He quietly said, and left out the door he came.

I expected my house to be dirty, but it was spotless. I think I'll go to sleep now, but I'm scared to see the woman. It is said that god moves in mysterious ways, maybe the same goes for death?

I started to fall asleep, but I kept on stopping myself. I didn't want to see the woman's eyes! Soon, at about 3 am, I feel asleep. I had the same dream again, but I didn't see her eyes. I saw death. Death was there with the woman in a park. He had his arm around her. He took her face and he kissed her. He kissed her again. Every time he kissed her some part of her disappeared. I kept watching, as she turned in to a speck in the dust. I woke up as soon as she was gone. I didn't even realize that I slept until 12 PM. I started to hurry, to get to work, but suddenly the windows started flapping and the door opened. Death came in.

"I did it" he said.

"I saw" Said I.

He sat down. I saw him shake. I saw dry tears come down.

"Um...are you okay?" I asked.

"I finally know how it is to lose someone."

"What?"

"I loved her, I know you saw us."

"Oh."

"I finally know what it's like to lose a person. I take people everyday, but now I finally know..."

"Well that's life. What can you do?"

"And that's death." He said, as he walked out, with the dry tears dissolving in air as they dropped.

Everything was perfect and still after he left, I sat down, looked around, and went back to sleep.

:x

Don't speak
Don't say a word
I dont care who you are
Take these words and dry them on your wall
to see for later

We die for a purpose
but are born because of desire

Don't speak
I dont need to hear you
Don't write
I dont want to read you

I'm spoiled in my casket
from your stolen silence
It means more then the cires of your letters
They beg me to read them
I turn away and smile
All the while knowing
I am hurt inside
and spoiled
in my
casket.

Ideas

I haven't written for so long. No ideas come to my head, but at the same time, I'm dying to write. I wrote this poem as my last resort, to write about having no ideas:

I am here waiting
this keyboard gasps for breath
from my fingers
They sit on it
with nothing but consideration
on what to tell it next
its chords stuck in its throat
with nothing but a gasp off air
everytime they go to write.

A sentence is like a sunrise
looking down on the shore
as its light reflects to make the ocean
a perfect mirror

My reflection does not show,
for there are no sentences
no events
no plot.

Its useless, just like a lost boat
in the middle of the mirror
casting a reflection
that the sunrise cant see.

A Poem. =]

These glasses they weep
yet the eyes stay still
a cold heart looks out
into the open ocean
to see the water envelope the ship
like a wet tounge sealing a love letter...

This water that feeds young children
with joy and want
they swim in death
their glasses weep
but their eyes stay still

The Visit

Note: This story is still in its early stages and there are probably a lot of grammatical mistakes, i will change these later. Enjoy the draft. =]

He called himself John. He had a dark hood on, his face was engulfed in darkness and he had a scythe. I showed him in, asked him to sit. He did. We didn’t say anything for a couple of minutes. Silence. Finally I asked him, “Who are you?” He replied, “I am death.” I asked him, “What are you here for?” He didn’t reply. I asked him again. He didn’t reply. A couple minutes of silence followed. Quiet. I asked him “Do you want anything to drink?” He replies, “Some tea please.” I went into the kitchen and got some tea. He drank. I drank. More silence. I asked him again “What are you here for?” Slowly sipping his tea, he replied “I am bored of my job.” “Oh,” said I. He finished his tea. So did I. He reached into his pocket and took a tomato out. He started eating it. The juice trickled down his body, and onto my new carpet.

“What are you doing?”

“Eating a tomato”

“You are ruining my new carpet”

“Oh”

“Clean it”

He didn’t say anything. I asked him again. No response. Then again, more kindly, still no response. I went into the kitchen to get a washcloth. I came back and the stain was gone. I sat down, getting tired of the awkward silence, I put on some music. I sat down, and even though I couldn’t see John’s face, I could tell he didn’t like the music. I didn’t do anything, till finally he said “Turn it off.” I did.

I sat back down at the table. I suddenly realized I still didn’t know why he was here. I asked him again. He sighed deeply and said that he was getting old. He said that he was about to die, and that he needed to pass his job onto another person. I looked at him with disbelief. He told me not to give him that look, but I couldn’t believe it and still gave him that look. He turned around and said that I needed to take the job. He said “without death in this world, the world is like a soulless flower.” I still couldn’t believe it. The look of disbelief slowly disappeared from my face like a shadow. I asked him the one question all humans ask, “Why me?”

He looked at me, I couldn’t see his eyes, but I knew he was looking at me, he said “why you? Why ME? I was once like you. Being death isn’t that bad, until you realize that you can’t escape your self. Yes, Death dies one day, that’s why I need you. ”

“But why me? Out of all the people, why me? Why not my neighbor?!”

“Your neighbor has a soul.”

“Why not the other billion people in the world?!”

“They all have souls”
“I have a soul”

“No you don’t”

“Yes I do”

“No.”

“Yes”

“No.”

“YES!”

“NO!”

His booming voice over powered my voice like a cloudy sky and left me silent.

“Who said I don’t have a soul?” said I.

“God”

“There is a god?”

“Yes.”

“Who says?”

“I do. I know. I get orders from him. We also have an occasional beer together.”

“God drinks beer?”

“Yes.”
“What brand?”

“See what I mean? These companies have taken your soul. Does the brand of beer really matter? What matters is that he drinks, what does the brand have to do with anything?”

I said nothing. It was true. My soul was eaten by these companies. If I got a toaster, I had to get it made by Toastermaster. If I got a TV, it had to be made by Sony. He was right.

“How do you know this?” I asked.

“God told me.”

“Why can’t God give me my soul back?”

“It’s not written in the book.”

“What book?”
“The book.”

I pondered upon what John had said. I sat there, silent. I wondered if I should give in. Should I be death? If I am going to be death or not, I am going to die one day, I decided to ask John for more time.
“Why of course, I know this is sudden, but I’ll come back later in a week. Have your self a good time, well what’s left of it anyway.”

“Wait,” said I, “Do you want to eat or drink something before you leave?”

“Well if you’re going to be so kind, sure!”

I went into the kitchen and made him my last bagel, and a glass of orange juice. As I was in the kitchen making a bagel, I wondered to my self what I would do. I thought about it as the bagel was being toasted. I noticed my hand sliding to a knife and putting it in my pocket. I went over to John as the bagel was still being toasted and asked him if would like to watch some TV. I had just bought the new HD TV from Sony. Perfect picture.

“Sure put the game on,” said John.

I turned the TV on. As his face was facing the TV, I went behind him, and briskly took my knife out and slit his throat. I didn’t think about the consequence of this, until after he was lying on the floor motionless. I looked at my knife to find out there was no trace of blood or anything, only the knife had rusted. I got a look of happiness over my face, and decided to celebrate my victory over some beer. After a good big glass, I decided to burn John’s body. As the body burned, the smoke gave a weird smell of roses and decay mixed together. I didn’t care much of John dying. If there was less death in this world, wouldn’t it make it a better place? As I was watching TV, I saw on the news where this man was going to get hanged, but he wouldn’t die. He apparently stabbed a woman to death, until there was a hole in her for no apparent reason. I didn’t care much of it and went to sleep.

When I woke up, I was in a completely different place. I wasn’t in my bed. I was in a dark room. I soon found the lights and turned them on. I looked around and was blinded my yellow post-it notes. I read one of them and it said “3:50, death of man being hanged.” I looked around and found a mirror. I saw my self dressed just like John. I couldn’t believe it. I heard a knock on the door, and God came in with a beer. He offered me one and told me that I was death.

I am also about to die, and I thought I would write my auto-biography, to let the reader know that, its death and you aren’t going to escape it, especially not me.