| This really was quite a random creation - it's two separate photographs of more-or-less the same set of trees with cutout and various blending modes on several layers...in fact, I kind of wish I had saved the Photoshop document so I could see exactly how it was done, but sadly it's gone. |
As IAs I wake,As I by *PaperArtillery
I see myself reflected
a thousand times over
in as many shards of that which
I can only be sure exists in my memories;
mirrored fragments which tear through
the fabric of the now,
causing to bleed into pale nothingness
all of the might-have-beens.
As I sleep,
I live in that image of
the moment before the crack,
before the downpour,
and hope that that moment
may someday be made to bind the infinite things,
now never to be,
into one shining point of light;
a light in the sky of a world
from which I never need wake.
the black and blueinto the dark sank the moonthe black and blue by *PaperArtillery
from burning in the sky, wreathed in silver clouds
and draped in chains of birds flying south
until she finally set beyond the silhouettes of trees
clawing up the gradient of light frantically fading
into the west.
and in the blackness there is terror,
a fear entertwined with temptation -
to move feet from where they now stand,
to be caught by the current;
to reach where thorns might now grow,
and all of the earth dies screaming
silently into nothing at all.
no feeling but isolation,
no sound but stillness,
no sight but a tangible eternity of night.
yet,
as the blanket
of a suffocating void descended
a star f
shrouded like a rosehere i weep in the setting sun,shrouded like a rose by *PaperArtillery
waiting for the waves to wash me to sea,
to drown, to devour
the parts of me that once could love,
allowed me to feel.
the sun is shrouded like a rose,
shimmering through the blackening sky
upon the waters, ready to dissolve the past
in a moment of one sharp shock;
but i cannot take the plunge yet
while hope remains.
the sounds and symptoms of my memories
cascade crashing like breakers
pounding, dashing my resolve to splinters
of brittle, brutal sharp points day by day,
hour by hour,
soon to be drawn into the deep,
instruments of disbelief when washed upon
this bitter shore of salt upon wounds
uncurable, unf
Optimism 
Sta.sh
oxoxo
