Rendered

      The blood slid between her fingers, hot and thick. She flicked her hand to dislodge the weight, watching as the drops splattered against the dry leaves, miniature red puddles of perfect surface tension. A moment to stare at the pattern and then it was back to work, the flies were already beginning to arrive.

        The leaves skittered across the path in front of her, the harbingers of a sharp wind that nipped at her face. The world was tucked safely under a blanket of grey. The harsh sounds of the city softened and muffled, distancing the starkness of urban clutter. Her shoes clicked across the stone, clapping through puddles not deep enough to be of danger to her feet. Hands shoved into her pockets, hat pulled low against the chilled pinpoints of falling slush, her existence had narrowed to fit within the simple rhythm of one foot after the other. The world was still, holding its breath in the silence. She turned north, not by conscious decision but by feel. She had let her steps guide her in the direction needed, knowing her subconscious knew better. So she turned north, like the moss on the trees seeking the shade, but today there was no need to hide because all the world was shadows. The trees stretched into the grey beyond as dark silhouettes and she felt safe, alone, away and safe. The solitude and the emptiness was a balm to her fevered soul. No one passed the small space she claimed as she walked between the houses and the trees, no one intruded. She drifted like the mist down the vacant paths, one among the shadows. The nagging thoughts of escape dissipated into the moist air with each balanced exhale and the sludge began to slide away. The anti-weight of it disappearing lightened her shoulders from their tired slouch. New clarity to clouded vision slowed her pace with the realization of the world around her. She hadn’t know that it had been so long since she had actually seen the space she traveled, she hadn’t realized how much she had missed that sight, so blinded by the disorder of forced futures. Each breath became a new beginning, each step a new start. The futures fell away and for a moment she found peace. Peace in the knowledge that at that very moment, none of it mattered.

 One so full

floating

favorite days flowers in an alpine field

fresh and living

but the seasons flight away

and frost falls

living forlorn frozen

flying forever stolen

flooded

fear and fight of feelings

fixed to the weight and falling

folded to the memory and focused.

 

Ripping the words from your brain

smearing the raw matter across blank space

and it gets you nowhere

standing there

on that empty road

wondering why you’re suddenly alone

packing your bags

only to find the wet cement beneath your feet

captured

frozen again

not moving forwards

pages died pink and pointless

you rip them up

to match the torn shreds in your mind

and the screaming continues

stuck

trapped on a scratch

and looping

down the claw marks inside your skull

the blood runs in rivulets

it’s moving but you aren’t

black pavement

for forever to the distance

going to swallow you out of existence

locked in this nothing

you tear out the words

shearing them with scissors

tacking them together

with tape and glue

but still the record is broken

and the effort disintegrates to dust

dried out in the hot wind

gone.

Night descends,

The record finally dies

but so does hope.

The cold steals your heart

the road is empty

you are alone,

your horizon disappears

black pavement

blending with the starless dark

bloody ribbons in your mind

the only things left

a bad reminder

of giving up.

Pain of the loss

like a stone in your soul

heavy in accusation

the memory of that empty road

a snapshot picture of self-hatred

becomes the ghost that shadows your steps

until you meet that road again

it will always be there

over your shoulder

around the corner

until you take that step

across the line

and into first light.