Always, unfinished.

Silence:
Creeping softly up my legs,
wrapping it's snake-like body around my hips-
the hips that bore my deceased children.
Silence, sliding up my spine and across my breasts,
making me feel young again.
Silence, curls around my neck and tightens it's unforgiving grip.
In a brief moment of pain I shout his name
and I fall to the ground.
-Entry 1

Midnight Recipe:
She jumps the stars of infinite with ease,
chasing her death for the fear of boredom.
Afraid to light the room.
-Ugh

Like Praying.

Charlotte held a flask of spirits with both of her hands, cupping it like something sacred. John's face produced a smile seeing his friend like this, she looks like she's praying when she drinks, he thought. She let out a long sigh as she crawled into a crouch on the large rock they sat on. Her hair spilled in curls around her face. John turned his gaze towards the water.
"Fay got married yesterday." She looked up at John through her curtain of hair.
John didn't flinch nor give any indication that he heard. He continued to gaze ahead, into the roaring river, still leaning on one elbow for support.
"Hpmh, she married that traveling salesman. Said he was her chariot, or something." Charlotte blinked and began to trace her right pinkie finger around the tip of the flask.
"Good," he said, finally, softly, not breaking his gaze, "she made this town stink like something rotten."
Charlotte raised the flask with one hand, "cheers John, you bastard."
She threw the flask back and the liquid began to spill into her mouth, her lips moistened around the opening, heavy gulps followed, sliding down her throat. She lowered the flask and held it with both hands, again, like praying. Her head fell back, her hair parted, her throat exposed; she sighed with satisfaction as the spirits penetrated her stomach.
John smiled and patted the empty space next to him.
"Amen," she whispered as she crawled next to John, tucking her face in his shoulder where she grinned the happiest of grins.

"Sorry," I said, "take me to the next one."

See that man laying face down in the road?
"I shot him down with a cold, broken stone."
"I bet that hurt like hell," you said.
"Who knows," I shrug and release a sigh.

We start to dance, my lover and I, his hand cups my waist and my hand covers my eyes.
"This doesn't exist I'm living a lie!"
His hand grows brittle and scrapes against my skin. His eyes lose focus and cast up towards the sky. His mouth sags open silently moaning his pain and regret.
Bit by bit my lover falls apart, while in motion- still dancing, and soon he collides with the ground.

I continue my dance by myself, calling out to my ruined lover with a mournful sound.

Thief

I
stole
this
smile
off
of a
blind
man,
who was
basking
in the sun,
appreciating
the warmth
on his
face,
for
once.