You are there

The night grows old, yet
My mind wanders still
Chasing after such dreams as may be found
Scattered and cast aside
Left behind when nightmares were formed
as shattered pieces merge and flow
Pathways form for briefest moment
Followed by my mind
As it ventures far from home
Perhaps to return unchanged
But likely not
in the darkest night where minds are lost
You are there
Eyes shining bright

A pain so deep that numbness is an eternity away, yet
To be numb would be a blessing
Sent from the heavens far above
To cast a shadow on one trapped in the eternal fire
Nerves raw with tension finely strung
No sound permitted here
Not even a whimper may escape
For that fleeting moment of release
May yet unleash the tide
But sweet release, longed for and denied
May be bought, for a moment now
With the simple pleasure of pain unbound by feeling
In the realm where pain has overcome
You are there
Soft gentle touch

In the land of dreams I am caught
Trapped in the beguiling web
Of fantasies and horrors
That could never be, yet
They exist
Perhaps in search of my wandering mind
I am lost
Amongst paths identical and flawed
Leading not to where my heart desires
But to where I fear I belong
Trapped once more in a maze of broken mirrors
Reflecting my inner eye to show me what I know to be true
Casting no shadows as even light is lost
And fades away
In that moment where I remain, abandoned to my fate
you are there
Soul of pure fire
And I am found

Itchy

I am itchy
On the inside
Worms and maggots writhe under my skin
Launching themselves into the vastness of space
Lost in the black void
Coz I am itchy
On the inside
Joints creaking and muscles aching and eyes blurring
Thoughts stirring and stirring and stirring
And boiling over into songs that never finish
Lines play back and forth
Itchy again
But scratching won't help
There's nothing to scratch
The grey matter all tucked away
On the inside
For the love of all that is holy
Can the itching stop?

A lonely voice crying into the night
Trailing away, blending into the soft moan of the wind
Waiting, ever waiting for a reply
But none to be heard

He stares at the moon, baleful eye glaring back at him
He stares until all else fades into the dark
Only the shining silver light is left, until
A blink

Darkness falls
The night awaits a motion, a sound
Deep chest draws back, muzzle raises high
A mournful howl stretches from the mountains far
Seeking a long lost love
Waiting for the reply
That never comes

Lie to Me

Lie to me
Tell me the world is just, and fair
And full of people who care
That it's okay to hold my teddy bear
When I can't sleep and I'm scared
Say you'll come with me to the next fair
That you'll help me colour my hair
Promise that you'll see me there
And help me hid when music blares

Lie to me
You're okay, it's just a cold
That puts our weekend plans on hold
But hey! Next you'll say we're getting old
Instead we'll go together, bright and bold
To the store where all those toys are sold
That big set, can I put it on hold?
You'll pay it off soon, the man is told
A strange feeling, your hand so cold

Lie to me
Tell me that you're pushing through
The way you always do
Make me believe it's true
Not a single doubt that you
Will com back, and show out of the blue
The ways in which you love me too

Lie to me
Please
One last time

Peak

Clouds stir in the gentle light of distant moon
Lone bird cries to greet the passing of the day
Sister moon rises higher in the sky
Atop the highest mountain I pray

The light that shines so soft a glow
The world awash with shades of grey
Broken by a flash of light
It is with you my thoughts stay

Not hot nor cold upon my lofty seat
As stars turn and wheel above
Lost in time and though I am
Eyes closed, yet I see that which I love

Sister moon blinks, the light is dim
As clouds pass across her face once more
For an eternal moment all is silent dark
I wonder, what is it for?

This journey brought me to this peak
Far beyond the rest of the world
To this place, this time, this moment now
Where no one else can be heard

Alone, I sit with sister moon
Alone, I stay this night
Alone, in silent stillness
In silence that I might

Hear your voice once more this life
Though distant shores you stride
Upon this lonely mountain peak
I feel you by my side

No More

And then you weren't there any more
I woke up and the world had changed
A presence now gone from my life
An empty place that once was filled
You weren't there and I didn't know why

I didn't tell you then
Because then I didn't know
What it would mean with you gone
But now you are
And every day hurts

Life goes on as the seasons turn
Each day fades slowly to night
Each night is lost in the painful glow
Of sun shining without you
But shining still

I hear your voice still
In the darkness
When the moon hides her face from the world
Sometimes I wake from a dream
And then you aren't there any more

Bitter Tears

Author's Note: This piece is completely fiction.

The bitter tears lie salty on my lips
Remembrance of a near-forgotten kiss
With one that once was loved beyond a doubt
Memory now the heart carved gently out
But sliding forth in subtle shades of grey
A thought that might appear both night and day
With no direction from my conscious mind
This thought that is the opposite of kind

I weep as once again it comes to fore
As it has done again and more before
The tortures that my mind will bring to me
The pain and suffering will not let me be
Do I deserve to suffer in this way
Can I convince these thoughts to stay away

The tears that fall burn traces down my skin
Pathways traced remind me of the sin
Continuing to haunt me in my dreams
This curse will continue for life it seems
Unclear, I do not know what can I do
To push away these thoughts and dreams of you

Darkest Night

In darkest night I find you
Rage that burns and binds you
Stays strong in the night
Watch as it takes flight
given form from dark desire
With cold and silent fire
In this realm in side my mind
Scream, silence is all you will find
For there is no escape from here
There is ever more to fear
As trapped you shall remain
Until finally you are drained
Of all life, all light, all joy
Cast aside as broken toys
Leaving naught but a shell
Ending in this hell
Of darkest night

Muse

I reach out with questing hands
Desperate to find you
Clutching at nothing I curse
You were not where I thought
In easy reach of my arms

You are as the mist that gently flows over the ground
As the moon slowly sets and sinks behind hills
You are as the amber glow on water still
Of setting sun slowly fading, soon to be gone
You are as the words from a lover's lips
Filled with meaning but passing into the air as nothing, too soon, ever too soon

I search through the night for you
From setting sun 'til dawn blazes in eyes bleary and red
Feet weary, stumbling steps slow as I move
A little further
A little further
You were not where I thought

You are not in the dark places of my mind
Where even the bravest fear to tread
You are not in the deep places of my mind
Where the light ne'er reaches for long
You are not in the lonely places of my mind
Where there is naught but ash and dust

I collapse and fall to my knees
Careless of any harm
For without you I am lost
Without you I am nothing more than flesh and bone
Without you I cannot live

I bow my head
I close my eyes
I hear your voice

A whisper in the night
A shout in the silence
A blinding light
A beautiful balance

You look at me with silent eyes
Hinting only at the mirth that lies inside
Smile with affection and warmth
Tell me without needing words
You are here
You were always here
Within my reach
Hiding not from me, if I would but open my eyes
And see

Mud - Part I

I was seventeen when I died.

There was nothing noble in my death. I had too much cheap brandy. I got into a fight with the wrong man. And I died, throat slit as cleanly as a sheep to the slaughter.
My family never even knew. I was dragged away and tossed in the river, with the rest of the trash. Nothing left of me. No one even bothered to steal my boots. Not they were worth much anyway.

I remember, in that moment when I lay on the ground rapidly bleeding out, wondering. Wondering what would come next. If there really was something more, or if this was simply the end. How long I'd last before my eyes closed for the last time.

I don't know. That's the truth. I don't know what lies beyond. Or maybe I don't want to know. I can't remember, in any case. I remember the pain was fading, I started to feel good. Blackness sank slowly over the world.

Then I woke up. Or came to. I was aware. Aware of a terrible hungriness.
Aware of being wet.
There was garbled chanting as well. Words that didn't make sense, words that sounded like they weren't even meant to be spoken. They scared me, deep inside.

It took me a while to realise something.
I wasn't breathing.
When I reached a hand up to feel my throat, I accidentally poked a finger inside. It felt strange.
I looked at my skin. It was pale and mottled. I'll be honest. I did not look good.

I was dead.

---

I'm sure you've heard stories.
Mad sorcerers, cackling away in the night as they raided graveyards.
Priests of nearly forgotten religions chanting rituals with black-clad followers, bathing in the blood of sacrificial victims.
An ancient evil summoning minions to work mischief on the land.

I didn't feel evil. I had no thirst for blood. In fact, I had no thirst for anything. No hunger. Just an endless emptiness. A desire for something that I could never again have.
Life.

But since I couldn't have that, I had to make do with what I could.
Existence.

---

There are some advantages to being dead. Undead. Whatever the correct term, I found it useful to not need food, nor drink, nor really sleep. Sadly, the night still brought its gentle cloak over my eyes. When it was dark, I couldn't see any more than anyone else. So it was most often at rest that I would sit and think. Not much else to do. While there are no pains, there are also no pleasures of the flesh. When you're seventeen, or something like that now, that becomes a big deal.

The work was mindless and boring, but it kept us occupied.
Yes, us.
And yes, work.

I hadn't been brought back by an evil cult, or a rogue priest, or a lich.
I wasn't a minion of a sorcerer, ready to take on all enemies.
I was a factory worker. A dead factory worker. And I wasn't the only one.
There were hundreds of us. At least it felt that way. We weren't abused, any more than the living workers. We worked long shifts, had time off to sit and think. I wonder sometimes if it would have been better if they worked us to the bone, without that thinking time.
Thinking caused a lot of the problems.

---

It's possible you're wondering who raised me. I didn't, for the longest time. The mere thrill of existing was enough, then the work. But those breaks. The empty hours sitting, not breathing, just sitting. Left on my own, surrounded by others. Silence until one moved, then silence again. Roused by the bell, gently rung each time to shift us into action.
Another shift. Another series of meaningless tasks. Another session of silent contemplation of an
existence without life.

---

I'd heard the rumours. There were always rumours, of what the city folk got up to. Most of them were simply worth a laugh over a mug or two. But some...

Eating babies. Fairly certain that didn't take place too often. There were simply too many little kids running around the streets, getting in the way, making a mess. Everywhere.
The obsession with hats. Now that's a thing. Don't ask me, I think it might be fashion or something. But everyone wears a hat outside, even at night. Sometimes they look good, but mostly they're just strange.
They keep strange hours here as well. Most people seem to sleep through half the morning, and then stay out late at night. Well, they can do that, see, with all the lights around the place. And streets that are stone. Makes it a bit easier, you don't have to see where you're putting your foot down.
There was one more that none of us ever believed. It was just too outrageous, the sort of tale that you laugh about and move on to more believable stories of mermaids and sirens. City folk, someone would say in their best spooky voice. City folk sell their dead! If you managed to get through some details without laughing too loudly it was often worth a drink or two.

Thing is, these stories? They're true.

City folk do sell their dead. Worth a fair bit, actually.

---

Big business in the big smoke. Body traders will pay by weight and condition. Up in the Heights, there are fancy parties to celebrate when someone dies. Sponsored by the body traders often. Down below, there are still parties, but the family has to pay out of what they get. Not a fair system, but no one complains. A good young body is worth enough money to feed a family for a few months. Don't worry, the traders don't like taking young kids.

Mostly.
There are the black body traders. Don't ask about them. Don't talk about them. You didn't hear this from me, okay? Not for my protection, too late for that. For yours. Word is that if you ask too many questions, they may take you away... even if you haven't died yet.
They're the ones who got me. Dragged me out of the river, cleaned me up a bit, and sold me on. It could have been worse, I guess. I exist. It's better than the alternative, or so I hear. I'm still not sure if I believe that, even now. Especially now.

Anyway. The body traders, whoever they happen to be, take them. They clean them up, stitch up anything that might cause problems, grade them according to size and condition. Then... and then... There was... chanting. A darkness that became deeper, and deeper. And then...
Anyway.
They do what they do, and sell the labour.

---

See, the thing with the bodies is simple.
They don't eat, they don't drink, they don't sleep. They don't decay.
Sure, there's that little problem that with too much sunlight they stop working. But that's easy to fix, and it keeps them mostly out of sight. Out of sight and out of mind. Because that's the other thing that they don't do.
They don't think.
Or at least, they didn't. Empty shell, was how it was termed. Your loved one is at peace now, safe from an often hostile and harsh world. This is just the Mud they left behind, nothing more. Nothing in there, the soul had moved on to a better place.
Except when it didn't.

That's what started this mess. I still don't know what happened, what changed. Was it the ritual? A word mispronounced, mistimed, misunderstood? Some subtle and sinister adjustment? A change in the very nature of reality?
Or was it simply that nothing had changed. That every Mud that had ever been, each and every one was silently screaming.

---