Amaze In Death

1

It wasn’t as if I hadn’t seen it before; blood, violence and death.  Faces stretched in agony simply began to haunt my every waking moment.  Now as I stare helplessly at my stucco wall I can still see them; mouths frozen in a yawn as fixed eyes indefinitely gaze.  Once warm flesh discolored and grew cold.  Such are the ways when life ceases.

Words on blistering tongues and a heart broken as eyes closed off truths; these things were acted upon without conscious. Images flashes behind my eyes and I stiffen. As a crow pecks at a piece of decaying meat a sun set behind a fading horizon while waters ripple upon the surface of a sea.   Hatred breeds and grows internal as well as external. 

     Hell’s children are illusory undead persons habitually combated in terror and imaginary themed designs. They are stereotypically represented as mindless, resuscitated cadavers with an appetite for hominoid flesh, and predominantly for humanoid brains in some representations. Although they share their name and some superficial parallels with the hell’s children from Haiti, their associations to such folklore are ambiguous.

 

The customary subtext of the hell’s children apocalypse is that civilization is intrinsically insubstantial in the face of genuinely unprecedented terrorizations and that generally individuals cannot be relied upon to support the grander advantage if the individual price becomes too extreme. The narrative of a hell’s children apocalypse conducts resilient correlations to the turbulent social landscape of the United States. Many also suspect that hell’s children permit people to deal with their own fretfulness about the annihilation of the planet.

Due to a sizeable quantity of thematic films and cinematic entertainments, the perception of a hell’s children apocalypse has pierced the conventional. Endeavors to further promote hysteria involve crafting weaponries and marketing artworks to notify people on how to subsist a hell’s children outbreak.

2

Upon the murmur of dusk settled a quill, frayed moonshine peeked out from fragmented clouds and a cosmic enigma forced a fragile mind into a spiral of questions. She sat while grinding her teeth, watching the monitor flicker while typing her words. Humanity, for whatever purpose, failed to see the truth in life. Dubbing themselves as "intelligent" life is a vicious arrogance doomed to drive the lot of them back into pits of darkness. When savages breed, possibility blazes forth on the brow of despair.

Pointless...hanging her head, she resided in reality. It was a reality forsaken by most since fear was their greatest lover. Days and night bleed into one another like vicious slashes across flesh. (Tiny little cuts Mother larger ones. Watch as crimson lines birth tiny beads that wiggle and drip.) It is nothing important...just wasted fluid bound to dry up one day due to the obvious waiting monster lurking in the future shadows.

Heartaches bestowed a vivid plan. Before her eyes it flashed detailed measures. Mother and Father were creators drowned in hatred for one another. Love, a trick or a nuisance, begs to be buried among the frightful forgotten. Hearts that swell with the lie are hearts bound to this mortal coil. Starving information seeks a lot hole and she straightened. Again her back is pinched by agony. She leaned forward, her throat a tunnel of raw ache, and with palms pressed against the hand rests of her keyboard she cast a gaze to her left.

In the end humans are nothing more than rotting slabs of flesh in the ground. Like most of nature's inventions, humans are recycled. There cannot be life without death and death cannot exist without life. The two are married in a sadistic ploy to keep balance. Perhaps Darwin was right. Perhaps one day humans evolve into something greater. Perhaps they learn the secrets of "eternal life" and make death a memory. Does that raise the possibility of infinity being crowded? Even galaxies succumb to death sooner or later. Stars burn up, break apart and make room for more stars to be born.

Damn it to some dimension of possible hell. She turned away. Exhausted she fished for her sandals in the dark and slunk away to entertain an action that most certainly guaranteed her human. She lay down next to her October and closed her eyes. Peace may find her for just one more night, but the future is a fate unwritten and unavoidable.

Devils harbor clever images upon her closed eyelids. She bared no truth to the fraction of doubt subjected along the coast of sleep and ever still she frequented possibility as the blankets mold to her shape.

Though she viewed the midnight world through mere slits she was aware of shadows as they snaked along heightening walls and a stretching ceiling overhead. Perhaps uncertainty was her hell as it propelled her into an endless universe of nagging perplexity.

3

Like a black ribbon of road reality weaves around me.  What holds me to this world?  At times feels as though it may soon slip through my fingers and I sink to weak knees.  In my dying hope memories splay a scene of chaos.  Red and yellow leaves saturate the ground.  The shadow stretches from below.  I am a prisoner of my own fear and locked within myself.

Nothing matters except the face of October.  In the frayed ends of my mind there is nothing sweeter than gazing into innocence and knowing you are loved.  Unconditional love is a key to unlocking closed doors.  The hands of age move with a callow and surreal speed as one faces death.  There is no time to waste.

Reality manifests exaggerated horrors with sprawled claws.  The clock counted down to blazing lights and sterile blades.  Whose army rose from soil?  Under a current of autumn breeze a vision of death never wholly vanishes.  It reflects with bitter decision.  It taints dreams.  One can only hope for a better tomorrow.

A fleeting nightmare lay on my pillow

Its threads still lace my memories

Pricks of glass pierce this madness

In a torn reality it seems possible

These thoughts stain my frame of mind

Damnation waits for those without man's god

Objects of desire forsake reason

Life plays the less fortunate for fools

Lessons disgraced by words fail to reach ears

And yet it is humankind who regulates pain

So my phobia slaps me in the face

I am but a soldier in a dying army

I have forgotten the agony of it all

Now as I stare into its eyes

I am again huddling in a dark place

Affairs of the heart wither and weep

Roaming in dreams my castle crumbles

In the mirror an ashen face stares into midnight

As a pregnant moon looms overhead

Fading stars decay in summer's wake

I wear a veil to cloud the glare of contempt

Nothing hides agony better than denial

Now I drift along its coast

Tears I shed make rosy pools

Though the bite of silver is slow

My essence streams in rapid gushes

Tomorrow will never come

And my eyes close

As darkness gives me one final embrace

Cascading Magma Rivers crawl over cloven feet

Thick charred muscle flexes and splits in two

Eager are the watchers for their souls call out in agony

Venom drips from jagged fangs inside foaming jaws

Head hung low,

eyes burning malice,

ill intent is not wasted

From its split tongue leaks thick saliva mingled with blood from its last kill

Across the simmering river it walks

Its long metallic nails click on the hardened surface

Its face breaks open to reveal a smile