316. Curl Up in the Corner, Dear

Curl up in the corner, dear,

And cover your ears in vain.

You cannot hide from the pain.

This world is made of fear.

Curl up in the corner, dear,

And hide from searching hands.

Blind your eyes behind hair-strands,

And pray to disappear.

Curl up in the corner, dear,

And close those teary eyes.

Most things seen and said are lies,

To lead the naive near.

Curl up in the corner, dear,

For hands were made to punish;

And skin and bones to ravish,

In treachery severe.

Curl up in the corner, dear,

For certainty’s a lie.

They will not care if you die,

Or if you persevere.

Curl up in the corner, dear,

And cover your ears in vain;

For a world, it is insane,

Where sanity breeds fear.

K. Aldaya, 9/2/15

Picture: Found on youtube video: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lJarvZMi0gU; http://i.ytimg.com/vi/lJarvZMi0gU/maxresdefault.jpg

315. The Bed

The bed is made of lies and fire,

Though it does not burn to ash,

And upon it lies lustful desire,

And lost souls under lash.

Bodies burn engulfed in flame,

Forever stoking the blaze.

The babies, crawling, are the blame;

Igniting with their gaze.

The fire sparks from inside,

Childhood’s glowing domicile,

Of doors which lead to hell and abide,

In the darkness of denial.

The flames cannot be quenched with tears.

The fire once set, burns on.

For those in hell are the mutineers,

Who refuse to lie –and yawn,

And sleep in ignorance.

K. Aldaya, 8/3/15

Gif: “Fire” by Freaky–Like–Vivi on Deviant Art; http://freaky–like–vivi.deviantart.com; http://freaky–like–vivi.deviantart.com/art/Fire-350936436

122. Secret Fancy

Gaze for to see,

In quintessence of secrecy.

Deep in the depths fancy is free.

Opposites clash,

Fused in thirsty veins: black as ash,

Beautiful and loathsome there splash.

Fancies lie grand,

Conflagration: soon dealt in hand…

Revealed: a dense forest land.

Sometimes is green,

Sparkling with sureties pristine,

Glittering the heart with serene.

A peaceful unseen.

Other times trees,

Fraught with searing perplexities,

Hang o’er my hand,

Swaying grave pleas.

For comes the black sickness train,

Riding on its’ track.

Standing unsure on the tracks’ crack.

A loud clash screams,

Breaking of stiff, cold, iron-beams.

Scraps whisper silent languid dreams;

Of emerald which gleams!

Fancy is found,

With mystified colors around,

And luster of death now on ground.

Intertwined there,

In this secret-land I’m aware,

Of this lifes’ mischievous snare;

Moments ‘tween despair.

Glimpse a whimsy,

Shown just ‘yond the forest-dim…see?

Sweet-green: realities flimsy.

For the train comes,

Tarnishing green with black-steel scums,

Taking fancy to reals’ slums,

Through black forests’ numbs.

Stir me to find,

Mirages’ black death swift steam-lined,

By demon conductors’ spell-bind.

Dressed in hells’ fire.

Blistering. Consuming kind acquire.

From dreams grasping peaceful-admire.

For in the head,

Emerald forest-land fancies tread,

Mixed with black trees of days fled.

The train destroys and peace is bled.

I wake in my bed.

K. Aldaya, 2/9/05

Picture: “Infernal Train” from American McGee’s Alice: Madness Returns by Luis Melo: http://www.luismelo.net/?page_id=760;

111. Death is a Choice

Ah, reality bites deep into the flesh,

We creatures half-heartedly roam this world;

This world of flesh.

Repetitively tearing into each bone,

The fact of existing in idle suspense,

Nearing gravestone.

Each soul inside burns bright, scorching-crimson flames.

Suffering much with little meaning shown.

Living mind-games.

Here lakes of fire melt spirits to nothing.

You’re already in gruesome, damned hell.

To heaven sing!

Death is a choice of staying or going,

Passing a test of faith in conquering hell,

And heaven bestowing.

K. Aldaya, 12/18/04

Picture: Artist Unknown; http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-AsO9CUEA4iY/UNtQu6qF0wI/AAAAAAAAAT0/HRrRCouTnE0/s1600/normal_Hell-On-Earth-1920×1200.jpg

109. Seclusion

Seclusion.

Years in lone seclusion.

All alone.

Dark, empty intrusion.

Seclusion.

No one to hear the screams,

That echoed,

Off these old roof beams.

Seclusion.

Dwelling in this castle,

Of ancient.

No kind company’s hassle.

Seclusion.

What such a soul would give,

For a voice,

To make the silence live.

Seclusion.

O’ to be cared about.

One small glimpse,

To wipe away kinds’ doubt.

Seclusion.

Ghosts only fill these halls.

Their shadows,

Bolt across the walls.

Seclusion.

Haunted by these shadows,

From the deep,

That speak what ne’er shows.

Seclusion.

Desolate phantoms wail.

Vile, dead hopes.

Time does not avail.

Seclusion.

Out from tower seeing,

For cov’ring,

Grim forest unfreeing.

Seclusion.

Above I oversee,

The mis’ry,

Which is hanging over me.

Seclusion.

The sky is dark and cold,

Faded black,

As a nightmares’ enfold.

Seclusion.

In this place I cry,

“Find me here,

As I here ‘lone, must lie”.

Seclusion.

Eternally lost here,

In castle,

Which in the mind does sear.

Seclusion.

No one to hear each breath,

Keeping me,

From the near land of death.

Seclusion.

In the corner I hide,

Shaking as,

I so often have cried.

Seclusion.

Is where I e’er reside.

K. Aldaya, 12/09/04

Picture: “Girl Interrupted Series IV” by LivingDeadGurlx on Deviant Art; http://www.deviantart.com/art/Girl-Interrupted-Series-lV-50416935