TheNorthernWriter

The metronome under my skin paced my shuffling feet on their path back to this place; brambles tearing rags while the last of my riches burned and rose from my smokestack throat And all that remained was the smoldering ash from a once beautiful flame And I held out my hands and saw only the ghosts of all they had touched How long has it been since they've strayed from their paths? Just how lost have they gotten? I can hear them now, looking for a light in their darkness. But can they hear me? For all my urgency I can manage only a measured w h i s p e r ; it's as if the dull-eyed thing I became is holding my voice hostage so as not to s

Either there's a restless leg syndrome epidemic or I'm just really fucking easy to walk out on.

Jace walked down a narrow corridor, hands outstretched running along the walls on either side, a small smile on his face. He enjoyed the complete blankness of the walls, he knew nothing about them but what he could feel as his hands ran along them. There cold roughness not unpleasant to the touch, he just walked along the hallway eyes shut relying on memory to judge distance. This was his small piece of heaven the emptiness of this hall and the room it connected to. Jace stopped just before a set of steps and opened his eyes, he let go of a deep sigh, readying himself to reenter the world. He ascended the stairs and pressed a small button, m

I will look into your shiny brown eyes like no one ever did. I will hold you in my arms so tightly like it’s the last time. I will kiss you on your soft lips , until I have no breath left. I will love you, until I know that, you’ll never forget me.

Often the young children will come to me and ask, "Do you remember the day when Earth fell?" I will look to them and say, "Yes, for my memory still serves me well." I remember the screaming people, the panicking outcries of a billion voices clamoring against the vastness of extinction.  I remember the airships that took us to the sky and beyond, breaking free from our doomed world and into the infinite blackness of space. I remember staring out my window, screaming in fear at the blazing gunfire streaming from the monstrous airships in hot pursuit. I remember my father holding me close as he always did, whispering, "Have no fear, ch

The spectre stood quivering the in corner of the room, looking more haunted than haunting. Its bloodshot eyes, rested on the figure in the bed, who sat up and rubbed her own eyes repeatedly until they looked similar to those of the wavering figure, cowering in its cobwebbed retreat. Miss Kingsley made a mental note to seek out her feather duster when morning came, that is, if she was allowed to see morning! For what purpose had this ghoul invaded the privacy of her bedroom? Perhaps it was an incubus? An incredulous thought and perhaps one that was more than a tad wistful, as Miss Kingsley was now seventy-eight-years old. Her breasts were dow

         I am the hurt, I am the abused, I am the lonely, I am the scarred.          I am the boy hiding from the alcohol on daddy's breath.          I am the girl weeping alone on the bathroom floor, her only friend slashing through her skin.          I am the molested, I am the raped, I am the judged, I am the misunderstood.          I am the girl in the rumpled nightgown, crying late at night because daddy said, "It's our secret, honey."          I am the boy whose mother slapped hi