The Shadows that Haunt

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I hear the howling winds they drag me from my slumber,
Trees screaming, leaves pleading, debris flying,
Rain falling, heavy, denting, slamming on windowpane,
Where now is Selene among this raging storm,
I search for calm and find only the descent of
crimson mist, I search for light… But the soul craves darkness
Which has long arrived, I search for hope but Pandora
was left astray, unlocked…
I hear the startling call of objects dragged through
the storms mouth, teeth bared, blood dripping,
I hear the emptiness of atoms
the raging storms of nature
the familiarity of night
sat alone, as insomnia
Kisses away the shadows
that haunt.

Karen Hayward ©2018

There would be silence…

There would be silence, but for the low hum of the fridge and the sporadic whir of traffic that gently trickles along the dark roads. There would be silence, but for the distant echo of thoughts that swims against the current in my mind a chaotic flurry of nothingness and everything. There would be silence but for the silent echo of past spectres and future  spirits haunting the time lapse of consciousness between the furrowed cracks of existence. There would be silence between the particles of darkness, void space, negative equity without life’s illumation. There is silence betweens life’s muttering. There is silence on the nights tongues, silence in his touch that creeps across my soul, silence in the shadows that whisper to me of loneliness. There is silence echoing through the vortex of time. There is silence. 
Karen Hayward ©2017

Power in silence.

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There is power in silence,

it echo’s through the soul

shattering the crevices of existence.

Weaving a cage of dysfunction,

unspoken words become haunting

thoughts lingering beneath rocks

of the mind bleeding into the

essence of being.

There is power in silence.

Karen Hayward ©2016

The Black veil.

The creation of distance an elaborate wall of defense indestructible, impregnable. The seeping residue of desire eliminated on sight. Just the slip of the tongue an inkling of fun, in the harshest of lights I find this new sight.  Freedom of sorts exploration of thoughts, no tie to reality my speciality. Follow me into the depths of despair, in the shadows you’ll find someone to care, a troll a monster or darkness itself. Walk with me through the hollow shells, where once sat a heart that often did swell. Let me use you and take you I promise it’s true. The honesty found in the erective salute and the white flaming juice that you’re able to shoot. Play the strings, strum them, listen as their melody fills the air and know for a moment that you are there. Hope for a moments recognition in the blinking of an eye,  see the emptiness recognised by only the sky. Sheets covered, sticky and wet, a moments pleasure you might try to forget. It follows you around in the depths of your mind, a curiosity of what creature you’ve found. Emotive humans slave to their thoughts always seeking what they believe to have sought. Spiteful words, indignation to the free soul that constantly needs out for an elaborate stroll. Walks filled with passion, fingers that roam, thoughts that are free to imagine,  yet blinded in the caves of repression. A divide, a sliver of time where darkness hides. A slip of the foot, a slide of the toe changes the results of the black lace show. Bodies hanging from the butchers hooks desire congealed in realities nook. Flesh and blood and bone, alone. Alone. Aesthetically pleasing until the flesh will rot, bones will crumble, blood will dry and no one will utter goodbye.

 

Karen Hayward ©2016.