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The CollapseFor a while I survived with all my frayed edges,
but now I rip at the seams,
and claw at the tears,
screaming out my frustration.
As I watch my organs fall and shatter on the marble floors,
I stoop to pick up the pieces; my fingers are crumbling.
My limbs are cracking from the effort.
When I cry I empty rivers,
release the grief, the pain;
The ebbing flow takes my last emotions with it in the tide.
TechnicolorI see my world in technicolor,
paint canvasses in black and white.
I sift for your words through radio static,
the white noise muffles, so I read your lips.
Senses deadened, I will defy;
I've lost my breath, my will, my cry.
Caught in the precarious retro slip,
In slogging onward- what reins me back?
Born into a different time and place,
can I rest awhile, and wait my turn?
I see my world through a technicolor lens,
and paint my thoughts in stark blacks and whites.
NyxThe only thing that's certain is the dark,
It's shroud, it's cloak, never fails to descend.
No light will pierce it,
It's frontiers will never be discovered,
It will never be destroyed.
It exists because it exists, and we will have it forever.
Long live the darkness, the shadowy Queen of night.
Alone in the WoodsWillow staff in hand,
crunching leaves, the hiker's friend,
a trail to follow.
I hear wind whispers,
and walk bent tree avenues,
hardling minding pace.
Stopping now and then,
smelling earthy log decay,
a home for wood-folk.
A cool stream greets me,
hopping over rocks, I see,
the glint of fish scales.
Giving way to lake,
patient waters lapping shore,
and beaching seashells.
Speedy darners dart,
from mud flats to lily beds,
Knowing now I'm home!
InsomniaI want to go home,
wrap myself up in the cocoon
of the bed all my days.
Though I cannot shut my eyes,
I'm eluding sleep with tired cries.
Hungry now for sleep I'm always
trying to find the rest I lack,
I'm a quiet and peaceful insomniac.
Tossing, turning in my sheets
I squeeze the pillow, succumbing at last to rest's embrace.
PREY NO MOREPREY NO MORE
Rope dug into Patrick’s wrists as he struggled to free his hands. His hot, damp breath washed over his face, trapped by the fabric sack secured over his head.
A floorboard creaked. Patrick froze, his back rigid against the chair, and strained his ears. Another creak.
“Hello?” he called.
The sound of swishing fabric.
“Who’s there? Where am I? Why’d you bring me here?” Blurred memories swam through his mind: drinking at the bar; stumbling home; a shadow sweeping out from an alley.
Fingers grasped his chin and jerked his head upward. “Hush.” A woman’s voice.
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`anmari has been spreading her infectious positivity throughout our community for over 6 years. Throughout this time Ana has been at the core of all things devious, passionately developing an eclectic gallery, helping organise devmeets, participating in chat events and also recently completed dedicating her time as a Community Volunteer. We are absolutely delighted to bestow the Deviousness Award for May 2013 to `anmari, congratulations! Read More