Oneirology

A Wayward Child's Empty Pen

((The following entries are transcribed from a waterlogged brown journal, found along with a dried blue pen, in an abandoned park bench in Southwark, London.))

~*~

01/13/??; 01:25 AM/PM.

It's so cold.

The Arctic rains pour angrily, beating down in relentless torrents

The languid sky is shaded with an amalgamation of sickly grey

Under my tattered umbrella, I attempt to figure it out but I can't

If the lost sun is falling out of its orbit, or just breaking the day

Perhaps I wasn't meant to know.

.

01/13/??; 02:00 AM/PM.

Nothing but unadulterated trouble, problems arising from the start

A cautioned winter's tale as thorny and ancient as Eros' pierced heart

It warned, leave that wayward child to find its way in a crooked path

For avariced Hell hath no fury than wicked disappointment's wrath

At my current state, I know they're right.

.

01/13/??; 02:26 AM/PM.

So I shattered all the best of china dinnerware, and bent all the tines

So I melted my sister's only set of crayons and lied to waste their time

So I played hooky, hung in alleys, and started a chaotic playground war

So I scorched half our house, maybe a pet, just for a speck of warmth

But that fire was just so pretty.

.

01/13/??; 03:15 AM/PM.

I plead and begged and beseeched, but unfortunately, to no such avail

It seems that my dearest loved ones wish for me to simply fail

Wounding thorns clung to my sullied dress like demented hands

For they're the only company I find reassuring and I can understand

Hello darkness, my old friend.

.

01/13/??; 4:00 AM/PM.

I know I've been a guilty bastard, I'm all but holy, or God forbid, saintly

I'm a cragged diamond, cracking under the pressure of my turbid sins

My weak conscience wrestles and grapples with my slippery sanity

Perhaps this time, I'll cease being the referee, let one of them win

But I know I'm not that strong.

.

01/13/??; 4:55 AM/PM.

Counting all my remaining days away on my bloodstained fingers

The tragicomedy death of my feminine art nouveaux still lingers

Withered skin falls in fragments, peeled from my chapped ivory lips

Catch it like fairy dust or white snowfall, and make a quaint wish

Snowflakes taste like faith.

.

01/13/??; 5:01 AM/PM

You're lost, you're lost, my scalding mind accuses, accrues, accosts

An inane foulness of its profoundness breathlessly traipsing around

I've been nothing to seeing stars and dottiness but a gracious host

Honestly, why dare I even complain, what dare I even maunder about?

I saw it coming from miles away.

.

01/13/??; 5:27 AM/PM

Why thou'st I abated thy tempt, thy lust, gluttoned thy forsaken monster?

Borrowed words I've spoken now, chagrined regrets not mine, all rust

I was caught unawares in a graceless predicament tryst lacklustre

I discovered amidst the fuss, I was never worth my weight in stardust

I'm so sorry, mother and father.

.

01/13/??; 6:00 AM/PM

As this wayward weather ages, the jaded hurricanes growing much old

That lush aftertaste of bliss't twilight indented within the fiery cosmos

I nearly hit a brick wall staring upwards, waiting for comets to unfold

Once again, I'm stuck at a dead end, regent shadows my blanket close

Ah, so it was afternoon, after all.

.

01/13/??; 6:30 PM.

Cold...it's so cold.

I wish for a coffee, chamomile tea, or maybe a chocolate chip cookie

The frosty mist from my mouth is actually my frozen soul leaving me

An ebony feather drops from my back, searching for my palace free

I will amuse myself with black burnt matches and burnt out reveries

Yet no chthonic demons cackle nor heavenly Seraphs beckon me back

Rejected by both sides of the cruel horizon, sky beat blue and black

Walking like a spectre, even though I know that I'm no longer breathing

Cold...I'm so cold...please...why won't anyone just...please...let me in?

.

01/13/??; ??:?? PM.

I'm all out of ink.