And The Storm Is Howling

And the storm is howling,
the river overflowing.

Rain drizzling down
like a fine mist,
falling through the barren treetops,
creeping through the brick walls.

And the storm is howling,
the river overflowing.

No light shining through my window,
old wood creaking
and my reflection is just a skeleton,
out of the corner of my eye.

And the storm is howling,
the river overflowing.

The old house is sighing,
all the souls moaning
as the rain whips the walls
relentlessly.

And the storm is howling,
the river overflowing.

Comments

Fern

This was an early picture that I took with my mum's first digital camera. I had lots of fun with the macro function in our backyard and in some of the parks in our little town. That was before I was made aware that people would usually deal drugs in those parks and was forbidden to go. I went anyways.

Just Take My Soul

Just take my soul, piece by piece, rip it apart, dissolve it and pour it down the drain. I'll be better off among my own, among the dead. You think I'm a liar, maybe I am. Who knows what's real anyway? I can see my world slowly dissolving around me. I wish I could burn my skin and flesh away, dissolve with my world into nothingness - a fast, floating dream without any impact. Is now the time to say goodbye?

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