frenzy

Winter Blood

Folder: 
Voodoo

She stepped out into the night

From out of the Nightmare came a cry

The creature's somber humming ever so quiet

luring the unsuspecting into a frenzy

She is all that stands between

a world of ire and a world of light

The shadows writhe in horror;

their ghastly creation a pale abhorrence

She was to be their Chosen One

A warrior angled to live more

than just a hollow existence

The souls were as bright as the stars

But unearthly blood stained the

tips of her hair, her sword, and her solace

Drop by drop it tinged the ground

The beastly burden of loss

The last chance to take a final breath

And all of it- gone.

No second chance.

However, the silence hungers and from

the fires she wakes

She steps out onto the plains

A blizzard creeps down her spine

The Demon Ruins she must bide

One last stop to sharpen the blade

Fill up the flask and check her Faith

The fool she may be

But bathed in blood, a kingdom undone

She will walk the unknown, let her story unfold

To find the truth

To end the curse

...of Winter Blood

 

Author's Notes/Comments: 

Inspired by the Dark Souls and Bloodborne franchise :)

Possibly More?

Folder: 
2013

I just met you

Found you through a friend

We have only talked for 2 days

But damn, I'm in a frenzy

 

I defiantly don’t know

Who, what, when, or why

But how much I'm starting

To fall in amazes me

 

To tell the truth, I don’t know

Exactly how you feel

Hell, you could hate me

But I’m needing to know

 

Exactly what you feel

Friends, at first of course

But do you think there

Could be anything between us

 

That is the big thing that

I need to know

Because I’m dying to know

If there’s a reason

 

That I should feel like this

But I do like you and feel

That we could be so much more

Do you feel the same?

 

~Chrystal

Written on

 

September 11, 2013

Author's Notes/Comments: 

And yet another who couldnt even Make the sandwich, let alone cut the mustard.

View crimsonangel24's Full Portfolio

thrown under the bus

nowadays all she does is whine about her bodily pains,

but when you were left alone, 

she stayed drunk, prowling the bars

days on end, 

oblivious to the emotional wreckage left

on your chest, like a hot iron

melted through the tender heart of a 10 year old,

the open wound to the 

skin, 

cauterized shut

too soon,

without even leaving any open flesh

for the pain to be released,

seared closed with the shame, pain, and false pride of generations,

sealed in for years like a safety box of magnets,

pulling you towards anything and everything self-destructive

in a desperate search for some morsel of hope,

that the next christmas dinner might be more than 

knocking on the doors of neighbors, being lucky enough to be

asked in to share a holiday meal, 

and an attempt to be noticed for something other than the burden

you were to her deep and fervent longing for 

the escape, into smoke filled rooms,

that reeked with the heavy, putrid smell of week-old frying grease,

cigarettes, and hairspray, that became one of your main

reasons for going to live with your dad--

other than the day she up and left for california,

a 50 dollar bill to substitute her mac and cheese, dribbled with 

one and a half inches of ashes off a pall mall,

only to be less than reluctantly welcomed by him,

and a stepbrother who most always was 

notably more worthy of better dirtbikes, nicer clothes 

and a much more frequent pat on the back 

for a job well done, 

that most often wasn't.

 

a dollar for him and quarter for you, along with the bottom bunk,

that smelled like pee from all the years he wet the bed,

only ever good enough for sloppy seconds--

and then there was brownie,

poor broken down swayback, with skin infections,

baldspots and degenertive bone disease,

in light of your brother's black stallion stud,

as if the 6 inch scar on the back of your leg wasn't enough 

from your father's drunken rage with a 4 inch hunting knife,

and the glass from the window that left it's souvenir the night he threw you

across the room, all before the age of 14.

 

shit.

i may have shot that horse between the eyes too.

 

 

 

 

11:37 PM 6/26/2013

©

 

 

.........

Author's Notes/Comments: 

Just a poem about a kid.

 

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=

 

.....

Habitual Memories (Prose)

Do you mean that it is something like the first cup of coffee in the morning?

Or maybe like the way you forget, and leave the toilet seat down after you peed all over it?

Or, no, (sorry about that) maybe just sort of like an after dinner glass of wine--you know...the one that causes you to snore on the recliner and wander off into bed without even brushing your teeth?

Or maybe like the way I used to spray every room with air freshener, even after it was cleaned, and smelled fresh?

Or could it be like the way one utensil or one glass in the sink would send you into a frenzy?

Maybe it was like a bowl of chocolate ice cream, or hair twirling?

Because, I'll just say one thing.
 I would not mind being any of the above if that were the case.

I mean that.

Even the pee on the toilet seat.

Because, when the words "bad habit" arrived at my ears, all I could think of was that,

Well, there is no way I want to be a cigarette in your memory.

 

© 2012