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A Black Ravine
Deep in the darkest of my forest lies a small den in a grey rock, carved with the claws i bear within my mind. They are not used for self defense but rather to gouge out the eyes of those that look too deep into mine. My den rests just next to a ravine that i fish from. A ravine that holds my memories and stories i've conjured along the way. So simple it is to live a life that is not yours, but after a while you cant see the difference. If the eyes see it, and the ears hear it, and the mind believes it to its core than its value is as real as the scars that eat away at my self image. To be more like Epicurus was always a dream of mine, but the sad truth is that it represents what i wish i was. What this forest will never welcome. My ravine flows cold and smooth like an ice cube sliding across your soul, melting ever so gently as it passes the fire that burns within. At times if people come near enough they can see a reflection, but not of them. In their reality they are frowning and looking gloom, but in mine they smile before they take their own life. It started as a dream i once had. Its funny how my smile hits you. almost as if it were a bat to your stomach as you were inhaling. I love this feeling. To be alive, and so close to death is truly a high of its own. My dream began with me simply gazing upon my own body, watching myself sleep. The sleeping side of me awakes to see myself beckoning him so valiantly to follow. As i follow myself into the garage i look myself in the eye and come to the realization that i am hollow, and that the true me is the one i am seeing. He climbs atop a stool and gently places a rope around his neck. He smiles, and with what a sincere loving smile i give to myself just before kicking the stool out from under me. The trouble i have is deciding who the reflection is, and who is the true me. For years this dream has plagued me, or rather comforted me. With each passing night the joy of seeing this smile became addictive.
A Black Ravine
Deep in the darkest of my forest lies a small den in a grey rock, carved with the claws i bear within my mind. They are not used for self defense but rather to gouge out the eyes of those that look too deep into mine. My den rests just next to a ravine that i fish from. A ravine that holds my memories and stories i've conjured along the way. So simple it is to live a life that is not yours, but after a while you cant see the difference. If the eyes see it, and the ears hear it, and the mind believes it to its core than its value is as real as the scars that eat away at my self image. To be more like Epicurus was always a dream of mine, but the sad truth is that it represents what i wish i was. What this forest will never welcome. My ravine flows cold and smooth like an ice cube sliding across your soul, melting ever so gently as it passes the fire that burns within. At times if people come near enough they can see a reflection, but not of them. In their reality they are frowning and looking gloom, but in mine they smile before they take their own life. It started as a dream i once had. Its funny how my smile hits you. almost as if it were a bat to your stomach as you were inhaling. I love this feeling. To be alive, and so close to death is truly a high of its own. My dream began with me simply gazing upon my own body, watching myself sleep. The sleeping side of me awakes to see myself beckoning him so valiantly to follow. As i follow myself into the garage i look myself in the eye and come to the realization that i am hollow, and that the true me is the one i am seeing. He climbs atop a stool and gently places a rope around his neck. He smiles, and with what a sincere loving smile i give to myself just before kicking the stool out from under me. The trouble i have is deciding who the reflection is, and who is the true me. For years this dream has plagued me, or rather comforted me. With each passing night the joy of seeing this smile became addictive. Till one day the dream stopped visiting. So now in order to visit myself i look into this ravine. It smiles at me. At times my hunger for blood is nearly unquenchable. Not the blood one bleeds from a wound or a gash, but rather the blood trail that lays behind someone as they run from the mental anguish i have supplied them with. A quick scratch will suffice nicely, and to see the wounded animal flee is truly hysterical. Some few and far between make it past the ravine. They come to get a look at what lies here within this rock i have scarred. Most flee after seeing my teeth, but even fewer stay to pet the beast that lives by the ravine. Few will sit, and speak to me as if i am one of their own. A family I've always wanted, and the fact that they can stand the smell of blood that floods my forest for so long is truly a divine respect. For these few i will claw, bite, and kill for. For these few i will welcome them into my house, past the kitchen, beyond the room, a left at the stairs to a small cellar door. I welcome them in. It is these people that i paint my walls with. A love that is passionate. i will wipe your tears and pick your chin up. I will feed the darkness only to teach you to believe there is light. When the time comes that you leave my cellar, my home, my rock, and start your journey back across the ravine after you have taken what you wanted, i will help you smile. How could such a beautiful smile be so hideous.
Deep in the darkest of my forest lies a small den in a grey rock, carved with the claws i bear within my mind. They are not used for self defense but rather to gouge out the eyes of those that look too deep into mine. My den rests just next to a ravine that i fish from. A ravine that holds my memories and stories i've conjured along the way. So simple it is to live a life that is not yours, but after a while you cant see the difference. If the eyes see it, and the ears hear it, and the mind believes it to its core than its value is as real as the scars that eat away at my self image. To be more like Epicurus was always a dream of mine, but the sad truth is that it represents what i wish i was. What this forest will never welcome. My ravine flows cold and smooth like an ice cube sliding across your soul, melting ever so gently as it passes the fire that burns within. At times if people come near enough they can see a reflection, but not of them. In their reality they are frowning and looking gloom, but in mine they smile before they take their own life. It started as a dream i once had. Its funny how my smile hits you. almost as if it were a bat to your stomach as you were inhaling. I love this feeling. To be alive, and so close to death is truly a high of its own. My dream began with me simply gazing upon my own body, watching myself sleep. The sleeping side of me awakes to see myself beckoning him so valiantly to follow. As i follow myself into the garage i look myself in the eye and come to the realization that i am hollow, and that the true me is the one i am seeing. He climbs atop a stool and gently places a rope around his neck. He smiles, and with what a sincere loving smile i give to myself just before kicking the stool out from under me. The trouble i have is deciding who the reflection is, and who is the true me. For years this dream has plagued me, or rather comforted me. With each passing night the joy of seeing this smile became addictive.