unconventional pawns
cast long shadows,
for the moon quivers
at the arrival of the Queen.
blind knights on vigil,
helmets narrow as the
unnamed portraits resting
in mailboxes of rust.
Death and all his bishops
pray for false salvation.
miracles are not limbs in paralysis,
but an inheritance of resurrections.
Our Ritual Dismemberments by EvelynTaliette, literature
Literature
Our Ritual Dismemberments
...And when she spoke the world shrunk down and became simpler, softer, a better imitation of itself that held no possible pain. Like a dollhouse with its utopian storyline that was, by nature, created by those with young and innocent lives. Somehow she touched that world with her voice, despite how often it fled her grasp.
"I ignored it for years, which is a good thing I suppose. But now I'm unsure where it started, where it truly began, because I spent so long pretending that it wasn't there. That I was normal, like the others. Not normal, but...equal to them? Not broken in any way."
She paused as her words caught in her throat, some sque
I like balloons.
Ever since I was a little girl, balloons have been fascinating to me, and they still are. The way the air carries them, the vast variety of colors they come in....even the smell of those bad boys just makes me happy.
"Frozen" character Elsa and her magnificent ice palace made me want to expand my own palace. You see, I am the "Bob the Builder" of my very own balloon palace. My walls are not of stone, bricks, or crystals, simply because balloons are friendly. Inviting. And the doors are always open.
Heck, even visitors can play the classic game of "Don't let the balloon touch the floor."
The floor is still in construction,
Spinning endlessly to this point, my life has been a sad song never composed nor sung, yet thought up tirelessly by a lone boatman with a single oar. At sea, he's been stranded since before he can remember. And as if he doesn't know that using only one paddle clung to one hand cannot lead forward, this spiral has lead him nowhere but to confusion.
One lonely midnight, this seemingly limitless self-created whirlpool ceases to exist as he lays down his instrument atop his lap. Another voice has come to him. Many have before, each bringing with them a plea to cease this mutalative degredation of the mind. They asked only that he would consider
Our hearts shattered, our minds broken, eyes in tears
A world which has been bringing us down for years
Following the times of great sorrow and grief
Moments of happiness are quite rare and brief
Clinging to reality, that silent thief
Has left us robbed and showered in disbelief
You see there is no secret to contentment
Joy comes from compassion, and not resentment
A word, a prayer, a trinket of a kind
In times of true despair leaves the addict blind
The luck does not come from the object indeed
But reminds a person to keep calm in need
I tend to keep trinkets for times quite frantic
Never forgetting that they're not mantic
Recall, when
Once there was a girl. In the darkest duration of her prim existence, she could say that she knows what depression is. Her own family indoctrinated that she didn’t know the experience of a loss of energy for everyday errands and the clouds that consumed thoughts.She did not know what it felt like to be stuck in a hole that she’d dug for herself so deep that she could no longer see the sun. That she didn’t look like she’d ever been depressed--the scars were missing and there was still light in her eyes. However, I am here to share her story.
She knew the swarm of darkness that
I was at the edge of the cliff. I was at the edge of the cliff and I stood there, overlooking the scenery of the cliff in silence.
But then, I fell.
I did not know who it was. Whether I was pushed down, whether I slipped, whether I jumped or not-- or whether it was the waters that pulled me down into their welcoming embrace as the tips of the waves licked at the soles of my feet.
But it did not matter. I had already fallen, and I was falling. But it was odd, as the ground that I had seen before was gone, replaced with a darkness that extended endlessly, as I continued to fall.
I remembered my parents. My parents, as they had tried to catc