FlightlessAlbatross

Weeds dominated the yard and crippled the walkway. A lone tree stood, thin and naked, in the middle of the yard as if begging the gray sky to cover its shame with a curtain of rain. Past this sat a once proud house that years of neglect had brought to its knees. It's gray facade slumped with varicose veins of dead ivy and wrinkle-like cracks. The few windows were dark with layers of dust, their frames askew and crumbling. Old shingles, worn and loose, waited listlessly on the roof for a good wind to free them of their misery. A young woman in a bright yellow sundress strode through, the weeds grasping at her bare legs. She knocked on the doo

as pure as salt, as sweet as death i drink until your final breath

once dropped from her hands all semblance of life falls flat. whispered in the dark; a final, shuddering breath: "how can i live without you?"

The old subway station hadn't seen any use in decades. Once vibrant tiles were now coated in a layer of dust and cracked; many were even missing, creating a mosaic of empty spaces with seemingly no direction or meaning. Rats scurried along the walls or among the rusty tracks while a lone cat carefully selected its prey. Down here one wrong move would mean far worse than just missing a meal. The old fluorescent lights flickered on. What little light filtered through the decades of dust and grime caused the rats to scramble in fear and the cat to take shelter on a concrete bench. A man in a suit came trodding down the stairs, briefcase in hand

It was quiet in the forest. The trees, devoid of leaves, stuck out of the ground like hands grasping toward the crescent moon. It was like this every night. A slender, hooded figure strode through the snow. Its booted feet lightly crunched through the top layer, leaving behind crisp, clean footprints. Several tiny fairies, each surrounded by a glowing light, followed the figure. They danced through the tree trunks with hardly any sound. The figure reached a small clearing – barely eight feet across – and found a flat stump that no blade had ever touched. It dusted the snow off, sat down, then reached for the guitar on its back.

lungs full of water produce a cry louder than ever before yet no one hears as he sinks beneath the waves "sing me one last song" and so he does his soul in each word yet no one hears as the depths begin to crush just as he sank they lower him down not a single sound made but for falling tears echoing in the silence

my prey, i am fortunate! but you, however? you less so.

laughter bubbles forth from forgotten lips - my tongue took all sensation for itself that it may taste of every single sip - and i place my hand upon your cold self i'd kiss you once more but it'd fade on your paling skin shamed, embarassed, i laugh at my folly to think that echoing the past would work - this time is different, this time is new - but your body repeats the same old tale