writing
-
Eternal ache In a forgotten soul,Eternity pennedOn a fragile scroll;The scalesHave much to weigh. Perpetual existenceIn a forgotten way,Fate fallenOn a stony brae;Emptiness increasesThe weight of us. From my book: A Dark Quill
-
Happiness had never really existed. Situations and circumstances masqueraded as such, but genuine happiness had escaped me. If I had one excuse why it had, I had a thousand, but none of that seemed to matter anymore. Excuses were no longer acceptable. The time had come to face the facts and remove the mask. Happiness…
-
There are those of us, touched with fire; a fire that rageswithin, threatening to destroy the very mind in which itresides. It leaves behind a chaotic state of a whirling madnesswhich I have become the master of manipulating. There are scars that will never fade, and memories thatwill never free me. Then there is me,…
-
Lifeless butterflies, dead and dry, rest in their perpetual state upon a lovely journal that has yet to have its virgin pages marked with the scratching of a barely legible hand. Dead yet beautiful are the butterflies. Promising but empty is the journal. Thoughts can be as fragile as the wings of a dead and…
-
I heard what sounded like screaming early in the morning, not long after dawn. It sounded as if something was dying, slowly, painfully. It screeched out one last cry before silence fell. Death echoed in that silence. I looked out the window. I’m not sure what I expected to see. There was a gray hue to the…
-
The smell of death l lingered like a salesman that wouldn’t take no for an answer. The is something about the rotting of flesh that reminds on how mortal a being with a heartbeat is. The rain poured off and on between bursts of sunlight. It was late afternoon, but I was still in my…
-
The curse of perfectionism laid its heavy hand on my shoulder and whispered in my ear, counting all the ways I wasn’t good enough. I thought I’d learned not to listen to those whispers, but it appeared I was falling susceptible to them once again. I waited for the feeling to pass. A day or…
-
Perceptions often distorted, Things not always as they seem; Reality is often illusion,That which is but a dream. What appears to be happiness,Is merely a cheerful mask;Nothing but a pleasant fiction,A daily perfected task. Can love break all barriers?Can it save an aching soul?Can it redeem a self-betrayal?Can it make an empty heart whole? A lifetime of…
-
The snow gently falls outside my window as my fingers sit idle on the keyboard. I can’t seem to take my eyes off its falling white powder. By February the snow, while always beautiful, is not all together desirable. Winter drags on and the cold becomes bitter. I miss the warm weather, the rain, and…
-
18 May, 2010 – Tuesday, 4:00pm The black dog has been with me for some time now, and even the simplest of chores seem overwhelming. The days slip idly by and I’ve little inclination to do anything about it. I wish I could, and I make mental plans to; but while the body is willing,…
-
11 April, 2010 – Sunday 11:23pm I’ve been banging my head against a wall for so many years; I can’t remember when it all started. But I’ll be damned if I give up. I miss what it was before it became tainted; like everything becomes when money is involved. I miss what it gave me,…
-
I heard nothing until he spoke my name. His haunting voice echoed in my mind as I attempted to get on with my daily chores. The day was bleak. Black birds of every kind gathered in my yard, their screeching unable to be ignored. Had they come to warn me? Had they come to announce…
SB LACROIX 