Scribble Me Words

Image credit:  Generated with AI (OpenAI image model) Suddenly it seemed crystal A one-eyed fantasy A door once Perhaps only the memory  Hinges breathing in a language she refused to learn Stood long enough to become Part of the frame Ever so often closing Leaving skin on the wood Dust learning her name better than she ever did Somewhere a bell kept ringing Not for her Never for her She answered anyway... again and again A mistake repeating itself into ritual Thinking revelation would come Instead it came as subtraction Faces erasing themselves mid-smile Streets folding back  Into unwalked thought Remembering  Leaving Or being left The difference dissolved quietly Salt pretending it was never ocean Symbols carved behind her eyes Rearrange when she sleeps Spelling truths Waking up Too human to believe Someone once told her everything returns They forgot to mention Parts that refuse Fragments that drift  Unclaimed even by time Now she carries a map With no origin ...

Image Credit: Samuel Branch on Unsplash This used to be a home. Comings and goings of spirited soles, Laughter jogging up the stairs, Arguing with the cracks in the plaster. Now all that's left is silence, Heavy, like the dust that clings to the corners. This used to be a home. Not just shredded muscles of cement walls, Or brittle bones of iron rods. Not just the rotting corpses of generational furniture, Or the stench from oozing floorboards. Paint peels from the walls like scabs, And ghosts of lullabies linger in the rooms. Spiders record yesteryear in their webs, Replacing blemishes from framed photographs, Framing remains of their own. Overgrown weeds guard the entrance, And cataract-ridden windows barely see Through the haze of fading memories, As if the house, too, forgets Which direction the wind once carried hope. Time gnawed at the foundation. Slow and unfeeling, Consuming names and faces. Once-familiar voices now pulse faintly, Like strains from another life That nev...

 Tripping over pretence. – Pretence. Running on fumes, a final cadence. – Echo. Spitting up cracked nails varnished. – Tarnished. Offers of pleasurable vengeance. – Conscience. Turmoil burns in quiet rage. – Veins. Earth opens up underfoot. – Destitute. Watching seasons unravel. – Survival. Faces fade into shadows. – Hallows. Reality bends with years. – Seared. Echoes howl through barren trees. – Seize. Scarlet secrets distort figures. – Rigors. A mother cries out for solace. – Witness. Gasps trace the edges of screams. – Dreams. Blood fertilises the dirt beneath. – Complete. New life whispers though buried deep. – Please. Darkness consumes the last breath of day. – Fray. Trembling hands in the wake of penance. – Violence. Stardust rises weary from forgotten fields. – Yield. The moon lights the vigil from above. – Unglove. Flesh withers like fallen lilies. – Frailties. Bones crash in the distance. – Rubble. Crimson carves its way through stone. – Groan. Fireflies blink out in the d...