A loud “boom” sounds off loudly, unexpectedly, rousing him from his slumber and shaking his nerves. His breath is caught within his throat, chest tight with unhealthy anticipation, muscles tense and at the ready, fingers itching to reach for a means of protection. Then, he realizes, it is nothing more than fireworks, bright flashes of light leftover from the recent holiday. Mentally he’s aware of that very fact. Emotionally he is not, and it leaves him weakened, open for other things to slip in…or pull him in…as the darkness grabs hold and yanks him deep into his own mind.
He finds himself lost within his own mind, travelling the foggy corridors with no way out, except to move forward through the maze. Each footstep takes him deeper, into the twists and turns of his mind, as the darkness sets in around him, leaving him feeling trapped and caught in a web of introspection.
His own worst enemy…is himself, and he knows it. At times, his passion burns like the heat of the midday sun, eradicating all sense of caution and control. His feelings run deep, too deep at times. He’s a dreamer, that refuses to believe dreams can’t come true. He tries to make the impossible, possible, and has yet to learn…not all things are possible. He hasn’t learned to bite his tongue, instead, speaking when he feels it was what someone has to hear. He’s a fixer with the heart of a lion, that keeps people close, but never all the way inside.
As the web of introspection tightens around him, he realizes somehow, someone has breached his walls. He wonders how, and he wonders why. And, so, he struggles, caught in that web, and fights the urge to retreat further into the darkness… not wanting to add yet another brick to the walls surrounding him…
He retreats inside
tangled in webs of darkness
searching for a light
© AC Elliott, 16-Jul-18
Written as a Haibun, or at least an attempt at completing one. Those always seem to escape my grasp at times.
Darkness and light
playing tricks on his eyes,
He could swear he felt
an angel, holding him,
warding off the demons
with nothing more than a
simple touch of her hand.
He awoke to thoughts
of angels, demons,
and a sense of peace
from her hand, caressing
©AC Elliott, 15-Jul-18
His words and thoughts, unclear, incoherent,
he feels like he is lost in a dense fog,
trapped in the dark mists of his mind,
where he searches for clarity
with uncertain feet blindly stumbling
from one thought to the next
and he wonders, not for the first time,
“when will this vortex of thoughts end?”
© AC Elliott, 14-Jun-18
Gray mists settle about his shoulders,
and he visibly shivers at the touch
of the smoke-like tendrils
tap, tap, tapping him softly,
seeking to be recognized for what it is,
his long lost friend, one he knows too well,
that all-consuming darkness
longing to wrap him completely
in its obsidian embrace.
He opens his mouth to speak
telling it to leave him be,
but the tendrils force themselves
into his mouth and down his throat.
Swallowing the darkness,
he can feel the parasitic nature
of its essence merging with his own
until the two have become one…
they are inseparable.
So, succumbing to the darkness,
he begins to withdraw inward.
His fortress of solitude is internal,
airtight, the castle walls built
by the meticulous hands of a master
intent on containing the beast
hidden in the dungeons of its core,
telling himself he is protecting
both himself and others.
He keeps pretty things on a fence
where they can catch a glimpse
of him from behind barred windows.
He’s nothing more than a dark form
offering an occasional glimpse,
his soul bared, open to them
whenever the drawbridge is down.
Only to find it shut tight
when attempting to enter.
He succumbs to the darkness within
allowing it to permeate his core
and surrenders to the obsidian embrace
that soothes the beast within him
like the sound of a sweet melody
sung just for him.
© AC Elliott
-Written sometime early 2018 and edited/posted on 9-May-18.
Her scent is intoxicating
when inhaled slowly,
his face pressed into her hair,
His rough hand held between
her smooth thighs.
Long fingers and palm
filling her folds, deeply,
with his puzzle piece held
between her pillowy cheeks
filling her, rocking into her,
binding them together.
They’re a study of dark and light.
The light of her innocence,
surrendering to his darkness,
as she fully offers herself
to the beast lovingly claiming her,
filling her with his essence…
© AC Elliott, 25-Apr-18
The morning rain washes,
cleaning the griminess
that cling to
© AC Elliott, 4-Apr-18
Written using the Naani poetry form. Four lines, containing 20 to 25 syllables.