301. Haunted

I know you will not understand,

When I say he wants me dead.

You will never understand what it’s like,

For another to live in your head.

To cut into your flesh so deep,

They bleed into your blood;

So violently invade your skin,

That they form a crimson flood,

And break down all the barricades,

Built to protect the spirit.

And barge inside so loudly,

That it frightens all who hear it.

All the parts of you, they hide,

In other rooms and floors;

They hide for fear of being found:

Cowering behind locked doors.

For the intruder walks up and down,

The corridors and stairs,

With his knife scrapping the walls, he walks,

And through each keyhole glares.

If anyone gets out of place,

And tries to run or sneak.

He’ll hear, find, and punish them,

At the softest of a creak.

Some parts of you will try to fight,

Yet it always ends the same.

A blood-bath; as a mortal can’t win,

An immortal at his game.

I know you do not understand,

When I say he wants me dead.

That he hunts the halls and that he guards,

The prison in my head.

No one can escape or leave.

No one’s allowed freedom.

Some live in fear, or plan escape,

Yet most are simply numb.

Please try to understand me,

When I say I cannot tell you.

To open up those locked doors,

Is something I can’t do.

To open them I risk my life,

And all the parts of me.

He’d kill body or mind to hide,

His crimes against sanity.

Hush now. Hush and be still,

And believe what you will.

For I know, yet cannot fully say,

Why my mind is haunted still.

K. Aldaya, 4/23/15

Picture: The Haunted Mansion Corridor at Disneyland; http://www.haunt1000.com/publishImages/MyHauntedMansion~~element27.jpg

296. The Way Back Home

It was one of those bitter days,

When the cold gets to ones’ soul,

And one wonders in a million ways,

If the freeze will ever thaw.

She sat there on a concrete slab,

While the snow around her fell.

The world one color white and drab,

Was a snowglobe for a God.

She had no place to go to,

Home was many hours away,

And as the frosty wind blew,

She wished she’d worn a coat.

Hours flew by as she sat there,

Like a statue made of ice,

When a man nearby stopped to stare,

And they smiled to each other.

Sometimes we don’t realize,

How lost we truly are,

‘Til someone makes us recognize,

Through a simple phrase: “Are you okay?”.

She smiled like an automaton,

Replying: “Yes, I’m fine”.

-“Well, the storm is hitting us head-on,

So you should get home soon”.

He walked into a store nearby,

And as soon as he was gone,

She clutched her chest with a sigh,

And her eyes filled with tears.

Her heart began to weep…

She’d thought she was invisible,

Living in a hole so deep,

If she died none would see.

So many people walk right past,

They don’t care or realize,

How long a kind word can last,

Within a human heart.

One kind thought or word,

May save a soul one day;

Building a bridge with each word,

For a lonely castaway…

To find their way back home.

K. Aldaya, 3/31/15

Picture: Photographer Unknown; https://p.gr-assets.com/540×540/fit/hostedimages/1423681671/13657858.jpg

280. The Death of Dreams

Remember when you dared to dream?

Remember when you still had hope?

When the world held possibilities,

And time was vast in scope?

Remember when you dared to trust?

Remember when you still saw good?

When you looked into a persons’ eyes,

And expected brotherhood?

Now you always expect the worst.

That people are working an angle.

And when you look into anothers’ eyes,

You expect your heart they’ll strangle.

And now you don’t know how to dream.

And hope just makes your heart cry.

For you look in the mirror and all you see,

Is a vessel almost bled dry…

Just waiting ’round to die.

Remember when you used to think,

Someday you’d find some salvation?

And be saved from the death of dreams,

By some empathy or consolation?

Now all you think is that it’s late,

And hopes and dreams: for the young.

And daydream what might have been,

If your dreams weren’t left unsung.

You close your eyes and fantasize,

In your daily dissociation,

About how you and things might have been,

If just one person had offered validation…

Before the eleventh hour.

K. Aldaya, 11/2/14

Picture: “In the Mirror” by Sad-Cat on Deviant Art: http://sad-cat.deviantart.com/gallery/; http://fc05.deviantart.net/fs70/i/2011/135/b/a/in_the_mirror_by_sad_cat-d3geaay.jpg

276. Bloody Hands

Red as sun-lit roses in the budding-Spring,

The pavement glistens with fresh blood,

And in my heart a piercing thorn bears the moments’ sting.

In my hand is an old-withered rag of white,

And in my soul a battlefield,

Plays a ghostly reenactment of the costly fight.

–Bloody is the rag which tries to hide a guilty soul,

Yet bloodier are the hands which clean without a rag that’s whole.

Red are these hands and the only I have known,….

Are these hands with fresh-blood dripping…

Dripping, and dripping guilt and pain; scrubbing all alone.

Blue as restless oceans crashing to the shore,

Are the tears which crash to the earth,

Never enough to clean the hands of an old child-whore.

–Red as sunlit roses in the budding-Spring,

The pavement glistens with fresh blood,

And in my heart a piercing thorn bears the moments’ sting.

K. Aldaya, 8/19/14

Picture: Inspired by American McGee’s Alice: Madness Returns; Artist Unknown; http://24.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_maly49hnQp1qkuk8lo1_500.jpg

272. Societal Denial

“I want to live”, I said,

To the stranger beside me.

“So, we can go together”, she said.

I nodded, to agree.

“Yes, here we are already dead”.

We drove until the cops appeared;

In many places eyeing us.

We knew when they appeared,

They were onto us;

So I quickly down-geared.

The only way is past this place,

To the other side it goes.

Through the rooms of this place.

Can we escape? Who knows?

But there’s no choice. We race!

We ducked into an empty room,

With a small window at the end.

Hanging there—feelings of gloom,

In forms of guns to portend,

Would soon lead us to our doom.

We continued on and finally found,

The room of our escape.

We ran and I jumped out and found,

Myself alone in the escape.

My friend could not be found.

It was too late to turn back.

I had to make a break for it.

A cop was there and would attack.

Ran,…but with no hope soon quit,

To protect from the coming smack.

Curled on the ground I waited,

Shaking for fear of humankind.

A sentence won’t be abated,

For reasons held in my mind.

I knew, if caught, I would be hated.

I would be hurt for leaving;

For trying to live and escape fate.

I knew I would be receiving,

More abuse for running from fate.

I waited in dust for the grieving.

When there again, I saw my friend,

And she walked up to me, and I….

I stood and she stepped-in to lend,

Her anger, and voice, to try,….

To get the cop to comprehend.

“You do not understand”, I yelled.

“I have to get away from here”.

“If I am to live just once”, I yelled,

“I have to fight against my fear”.

“Hiding is its’ own hell!”

“Hiding from the truths that are,

Has kept me safe for awhile,

But one can’t hide: not close or far,

From the life-long mile;

Without a life-long scar.”

The cop listened and then of course,

He did his duty and tackled me.

My hands cuffed behind with force.

I’d found more misery,

By running off the course.

The course, for me, the world set.

And there are rules in this place,

Which one cannot change or forget;

Or be labelled ‘criminal’ or ‘basket-case’,

With a lifetime of shame and regret.

But the cops are just doing their work,

And the masses just shuffling along;

And the lost longingly lurk,

In the shadows just drifting along.

No salvation. Always the jerk.

Plaguing the system with a wailing, sad-song.

Cop: “If you had just stayed hidden,

We could have all gotten along.”

K. Aldaya 6/9/14

Picture: Photographer Unknown; http://dark.pozadia.org/images/wallpapers/34-Gothic-1280×1024-81205.jpeg