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...So Below

The sky fractured in its agony, 

Having dawned the mantle of its gloomy disposition, 

Pelting the earth, whom it loved, with shards of its longing. 

Reaching out across the constancy that was their separation, 

Its arms like Violet streaks that kindled the air with desire 

Recoiling thereafter, having embraced only their own detonation, 

Seeking in vain the solace of union. 

And yet the earth was still, 

Unmoved by the pleas of that voice like thunder, 

That bade it reach for the heavens in return, 

For stillness was its nature, 

And so, it welcomed the rain. 

Cephalus

 I know this prison well, 

I built it myself, 

The walls not of rock and iron, 

But coiling tongues of flame, 

Whose lashings cause the flesh to recoil, 

To curl and fleck away like ash, 

My body drawn down into abyssal lungs, 

Expelled through an upturned nose, 

To convalesce before a hateful visage, 

Not unlike my own, 

Whose gaze, in rebuke, seems to say: 

Well done… and welcome home, 

You Fucking Monster. 

Mnemosyne

I know what it’s like for a heart to die, 

Encased in unfeeling stone, absent promise, 

The cold kiss of the void like lead upon your cheek, 

Drawing down sorrowful eyes to gaze no more in wonder, 

Tomb-bound for fear of want, 

For want can wound, and wounds still reach us, 

Even behind formidable slabs where the ghost of love slumbers, 

Where no warmth treads, and passion is but a myth, 

Begging for fugue and succumbing still to remembrance. 

I pray thee, dwell not in the waters of Lethe!  

For I know, too, the glory of a heart reborn, 

The pall ripped away by the caress of hope, 

Whose meteoric footfalls fracture the bedrock, 

Making way for the Mnemosyne, 

Whose flow, like Pheonix flame, resurrects the pulse, 

Entreating us again to love, 

Unbounded in the face of fear, 

As though pain had never earned its name, 

And our scars spoke only of virtue. 

The Mask of Faces

We all have a face 
I simply Stitch mine into position 
Each thread in its proper place 
An ode to the ordinary in covert opposition 
 
We all have a face 
And I, A smile to hide contrition 
Surreptitiously Sutured In lieu of sincerity 
In betrayal of the featureless, my fleshless condition 
 
We all have a face 
On mine, an expression to conceal resentment 
Watercolor over wonder for each passing visage 
Wearing authentic skin with contentment 
 
We all have a face 
And I, cosmetics to obscure fear 
The quiescence of kinship elusive 
For the counterfeit, a life austere 
 
We all have a face 
Behind mine, guilt to bind its aspect 
Gilded in the forges of doubt 
A golden mask of muted affect 

Mirror Box

What a beautiful mirror
Our reflection cradled within
A portent to perfection
Auspicion  and omen
Consumed and silver-gilt

What a beautiful mirror
And in it you and I
The clouds a fault of our own making
The haze purchased by time
A poignant patina
Yet hidden by its luster
The memory therein never to fluster

What a beautiful mirror
It's glory undiminished
The golden promise once reflected
Left lead by alchemy unfinished
No fault to the silver
For the failure of man
Good fortune passing through his fingers
Like so many grains of sand

What a beautiful mirror
Stained by my reflection
A wraith of passing furies
Gazing into cascading recollection
Delving infinitely in search of a face
Fondly remembered, ever forgotten
No purchase therein to Sate
The somber and misbegotten

Chrysanthemums

With a distinctive scraping noise and a sudden flash,  a match roared to life in the darkness. Irem, cupped the flame delicately until it matured, and then lit the candelabra in the center of the table.  The candles were the only source of light in the room; however, there were no less than 12 of them, and their collective glow managed to lend a warm aura to the room. By the candle light, the ornate table and its inlayed marble top imparted an air of lavishness, which only served to match Irem’s suit. His features would have been far less impressive without the veneer of opulence: His face was pallid and his profile mild, having scarcely any air of forcefulness, and his figure was meager to the point that it suggested frailty. His awareness of these facts meant that he was always only a shade less than obsessive in his presentation.

When he was satisfied with the lighting, Irem turned to the silver serving tray behind him and procured a small vase containing perfectly manicured floral accouterments. He placed them with great care on the table, careful to ensure they were visible but not an obstruction. He again looked over his work to ensure his satisfaction before turning to examine the remaining items. Irem's attentions were then set on the two silver serving dishes that lay before him. He carefully removed the dome shaped lids to reveal two plates of food. Like everything else, the food was delicately prepared and presented flawlessly. Irem placed one plate at each end of the table before drawing back a chair and seating himself.

You would have been forgiven at this juncture for assuming that Irem was alone; however, a more in depth study of the room would have proven this false. Across from him, there sat a young woman; though, she had done very little to make her presence known. She wore a charming red dress that suited her figure well, but maintained the spirit of what seemed to be a formal dining occasion. Her skin, in comparison to the vibrant red, appeared quite pale - even more so than her host's. Her ebony hair seemed to catch the light, and the shadows from the birdcage veil that adorned it cast the occasional erie shadow across her face giving her an air of peculiarity. Her posture gave no hint of her inclinations, and what could be seen of her expression in the shadows of the dim light was equally featureless. From the outside, it would have been difficult for an observer to call the scenario anything but odd.

Irem stared across the table at his counterpart for a moment, then elected to break the uncomfortable silence himself.

"Mina...darling....arent you hungry?"

There was no response to his question. Irem's head tilted forward slightly in defeat.

"I suppose that means you're still angry with me," he said, his expression giving way to a grief stained half smile.

Taking up his silverware Irem began to eat, hoping to coax his jilted companion into joining him. The meal consisted of filet of beef, which had been seared and finished to suit carnivorous preferences. As his knife tore into the meat, it stained the plate a faint red; it was a welcome sight, and he greedily devoured the morsel. After a few bites, he peered again at his guest to gauge his manipulative prowess. He was disappointed to find that she hadn't moved, but rather she seemed to almost stiffen in obstinance. He resolved to try a different approach.

"How do you like the flowers," he said confidently. "You always were fond of chrysanthemums."

Much to Irems chagrin, this too elicited no response.

"I prepared them just for you. I even found your favorite color," he said in a boastful tone, gesticulating to the brilliant fuchsia blooms.

Mina however wasn't swayed and remained statuesque; her stillness and deep silence reflecting what Irem felt was an almost stoic judgement.

"Do you intend to continue punishing me," he asked.

Irem's patience had begun to waiver, and it could be noted in the mild hardening of his tone. His nature was such that he did not well tolerate insubordination. It seemed to him a personal insult; injurious to his image, which he prized above all. His grip on the utensils tightened as though their mistreatment might somehow assuage his growing frustrations. If Mina could tell, she showed no sign of concern.

"What do I need to do?" Barked Irem, now angrily chewing a carelessly sawed slice of beef.

"Would you have me beg like a commoner? Is that what you want? Is all that I've done for you still insufficient to buy your pardon?"

Irem expected silence and received it, but even if a reply had been offered his unraveling composure would have been likely to endure. His anger, perhaps an artifact of fatigue with constant maintenance of his facade, was not a feature of which he maintained any semblance of control. Irem began to cut another slice of beef, but stopped prematurely. Now fully exasperated, he abandoned his utensils and sent the plate hurtling into the nearby wall. He simply couldn't tolerate Mina's defiance any longer.

"Do you really need to be so fucking childish?" he shouted through the clamor of the shattered dinner plate.

"I wont beg to be forgiven," he growled pressing his palms into his eyes and griping the sides of his forehead.

Mina, like before, failed to react. Neither Irem's fervor, nor his violent outburst seemed to have any effect on her. That she seemed so collected in these conditions spoke readily of the frequency of such events, and verily they were not at all uncommon. To Mina, this may well have been just another dinner.

"I'm not god you know," scoffed Irem with implied mockery.

"I'm not so perfect as to sit in judgement of another. Not like you Mina. You might as well have been the Christ child."

He waived a hand is dismissal before returning to clasping his forehead as if it provided some momentary comfort. Despite his efforts, Mina seemed to have the upper hand in the exchange. Irem needed to find a way to turn the table on her to satisfy his ego, but the more angry he became the less lucidity he could devote to the pursuit. He was fairly certain that had been Mina's plan all along.

"Say something, dammit. 'Fuck You'; 'Piss off'; 'Rot in hell' -- ANYTHING."

Irem's voice boomed across the table, possessing an intensity that might have startled those familiar with him. This proved impotent with regard to Mina, whose disposition seemed nigh impregnable. Seeing this, Irem could no longer muster the desire to restrain himself. Rage flooded into his bloodstream, and he could feel its flames permeate his entire being. He shot to his feet, knocking over his chair and reflexively grabbed the small vase containing the flowers he had so recently been proud of. Summoning the whole of his strength, he flung the vase in Mina's direction. It whizzed past her face by mere millimeters before smashing into the wall behind her. The impact left a sizable divot in the wall with shards of glass embedded therein. One would have expected, and truthfully Irem had hoped for, a visceral reaction, but Mina seemed to treat even the promise of injury with utter disregard. In utter shock, Irem was filled with a volatile concoction of shame and disgust; the former of which only enhanced the latter.

"Have it your way," he seethed through clenched teeth.

Taking the chance to retreat before he could suffer any great damage to his ego, Irem made his way to the door which he slammed angrily behind him. The gust in its wake danced through the candlelight on its way to Mina; her veil trembling slightly in acknowledgment. Then, once again, all was silent. That is, all save the almost imperceptible buzzing that emanated from Mina's slightly parted lips. From within, there emerged a small green fly, which perched casually on her lower lip. The insectile newcomer began rubbing its forelegs together, and in that moment they resembled clasped hands in anticipation of a meal. It was quite an unbecoming image for a lady; however, for a corpse it was nothing at all unusual.

éphagon

The call came again as it had countless times before; billowing forth from the forest at the onset of dusk with a cadence not unlike a heavy breath. It washed over Eyuri in the same familiar manner, giving rise at once to an equally reminiscent yearning that he was powerless to understand. He had tried a number of times to put that strange feeling into words; however, it had proven to be a somewhat fruitless effort. "A whisper of satiety carried softly on the winds of famine," he murmured raising a glass of amber colored liquid to his lips. "...no....still not quite...." His words seemed to float away on the breeze and were quickly forgotten, never to be finished or truly examined.

Eyuri sat beneath the lonely sycamore behind his home, which had become a nightly ritual, and peered at the swaying woodland multitude through the twilight.  The smell of bourbon mingled with the autumn air; whispering to him of the credence of his peculiar interests, the effects of each serving only to renew interest in the other. He scarcely moved, save to savor another sip from his libation, and the only sound to be heard was the clamoring of a legion of leaves in the grasp of the of the restless evening air. This was nothing new to Eyuri, and were he asked, he could have given no reason that the evening should end any different than countless others; stumbling indoors, but unsure whether to blame the bourbon or the peculiar longing that seemed to force itself upon him. That evening, nevertheless, failed to keep with its scheduled mediocrity.

Unlike the preceding evenings, Eyuri found himself slowly rousing himself from his stupor. The decision was sudden, and a product of compulsion more so that thought or will. His body seemed to move of its own volition, but in compliment to the strange urge that encapsulated his cognition. His movements were almost mechanical as if driven by a purpose other than his own, and fortunately so, as he could think of nothing other than how beautiful the leaves were in their countless undulations. It occurred to him that, in the dying light of the evening, the whole forest seemed to be ablaze. The notion was nothing less than gratifying. Had his mind been less absent, he may even have fancied the idea that he alone would dare to approach the maw of this strange inferno. The peculiarity, however, was lost in his present fugue.

He reached the edge of the forest  having only barely acknowledged his own journey. The air was thick with aroma of dried pine needles, and the faint sweetness only made it seem all the more inviting. The last vestiges of daylight seeped through the canopy casting a handful of embers into the darkness beneath, and Eyuri watched as the shadows hid from them only to return moments later a shade darker than before. A less clouded mind likely would have found the image much more foreboding, but he did not hesitate to enter. "The leaves were the flames, and the heart of the forest - coal," he scoffed as he approached a small clearing. So began the second leg of his body's autonomous expedition.

A mild October chill sent a shiver through Eyuri's meager frame, and he was suddenly acutely aware of the intensity of the darkness. It seemed as thought he were being swallowed up along with the rest of the outside world with each step he took. It was neither the same, nor as simple as nightfall; the night existed apart from the light, not by obscuring it. There was something striking, if not slightly ominous about the realization; nevertheless, Eyuri was determined to ventured deeper; escorted by the towering sentries of the timberland. It was only after sometime that he noticed a faint, unnatural glow looming in the distance. It grew in size and intensity as he approached, until at last it bathed all of his surrounding in a pale greyish-blue. The glow seemed to draw the color and features out of the surround objects, melding them into one featureless amalgam. Eyuri was completely baffled by the sight of it, and by its nature of obviation; however, he wasn't allowed much time to ponder its nature before something even more curious presented itself.

From the periphery of the glow, there emerged a figure. It appeared to be that of a woman, clad in flowing black vestments. Eyuri was dumbfounded not only by her presence, but also by her beauty. Her hair fell gracefully to her waist, an obsidian cataract, and her gait suggested a regal nature. Eyuri couldn't see her face, as it was covered by a decorative veil of black lace; however, he could see just enough peaking out from underneath to note her crimson lips. She, of all things in the area, was the only one whos features and hues the strange glow could not obliviate. As Eyuri stared at her, he could feel the strange desire within himself more strongly than ever before. He began to wonder if she, somehow, was the source of the forests ceaseless whispers. He watched in silence, leaning against trunk of a nearby tree he felt certain would obscure him from view.

The figure did not speak, but moved slowly and with purpose. She made her way to the center of the glowing area before stopping and turning to face Eyuri's direction. Eyuris eyes widened and his heart began to pound. He had been certain moments before that he was hidden, but now he felt as though he had be laid bare. He tried to assure himself that it was only a coincidence, but as quickly has he had done so, the figure raised a hand and pointed in his direction. The pointing gesture was quickly replaced with a slow and deliberate 'come hither' motion. Eyuri was in shock, and every fiber of his sanity screamed at him to run, and in truth he had considered doing so; however, as he gazed up the veiled figure, her lips curled softly into an alluring smile. It had an instant sedative effect, and the forge hammer in his chest was quieted. He assured himself that his fear was comical; a mere trick of the mind in a unfamiliar setting. "Surely, such a smile must bode well for me," he thought as he took his first step toward his strange new acquaintance.

Eyuri began his approach with an air of apprehension, but as he drew closer his reservations drifted away. As he examined the woman before him, he couldn't help but to feel taken with her. Her pallor he would have likened to that of pearl, and served only to accentuate the loveliness of her smile. The more he looked upon her, the more fortunate their meeting seemed. "What a curious string of affairs to bring two people together," he though with foolish confidence. When at last he stood before her, he extended his hand in greeting. "Pardon me, Madam. I did not mean to intrude." he said cordially. The figure did not speak, but took his hand in hers; her smile did not waiver. Eyuri noticed that her hand felt strangely cold, but he couldn't be bothered to take his eyes off her smile to investigate. "My name is Eyur....," he began, though before he could finish she bought his silence by placing a finger across her lips. She then stepped forward, drawing in close until she met him face to face. Eyuri was disarmed by her boldness and paralyzed by the shocking sudden intimacy of their interaction. Without hesitation, the woman pressed her lips firmly against his.

Eyuri could not muster the presence of mind to be perplexed. The kiss brought with it what he could only describe as ecstasy. It was a feeling unlike any other he experienced, being both wildly exhilarating and yet bringing with it a strange feeling of exertion. It felt as though the strength were being pulled from his body with each wave of inexplicable pleasure. Eyuri closed his eyes reflexively and surrendered to the moment. The voice in his head, still shrieking in vain of danger, had been drowned out in his acquiescence to wanton sensuality. It was short-lived; however, for when the figures lips parted from his he felt nothing but a debilitating emptiness. Unable to sustain himself, he collapsed at her feet. It seemed a daunting task to even open his eyes but, mustering his strength, he did so.

What Euyri saw he could not explain. The beautiful figure that had drawn him in was now a skeletal creature. It's skin was like leather, and appeared to be draped over the bones like cloth. The hands that had once beckoned him were now twisted, bearing talon like nails of a yellowish hue, and the creatures once rosy lips were now distended, revealing stained and well worn teeth. The creature lifted its hands to its face and removed the veil. As it floated toward the ground, Eyuri finally caught a glimpse of the creatures face. It resembled that of an old crone; the furrowed brown framed in matted, white hair. The most notable feature; however, were the piercing black eyes; eyes that reminded Eyuri of the darkness of the forest, and its ravenous nature. Shortly thereafter, his eyes would close again.

The creature moved its hand over Eyuri's body, which decayed rapidly until only a pile of dust remained. Gathering the dust together into its palms, the creature muttered a few unintelligible words before taking an unnaturally deep breath. As the creature exhaled, a gentle breeze rushed through the forest, carrying what remained of Eyuri off into its depths. With that, the creature vanished into the darkness. As the morning sun shown over the canopy, the sunlight igniting the sea of leaves once again, Eyuri's remains settled amid the flames he had loved so well.