The Anxious Wait

Tiptoeing around the fires,
A cold winter's night chills me through
And when I think of you all alone
The glass in my gut moves further.

I gag and I moan but there is no end
To the anguish until I hear your voice again
Gracefully dancing, I feel the hot stones
Burning my feet beneath my slippers

But my bones just won't warm up -
I shiver as melodic music plays
Up and down my vertebrae
As keys upon the piano in my bedroom

I must be losing my mind
Because time just doesn't make sense,
And the music won't stop,
The voices told me I cannot.

And I keep dancing,
Tiptoeing around the fires:
My bones freezing and my feet
Just an inch from the flames,

But they won't let me stop,
And the music won't stop,
And the glass in my gut keeps
Cutting and tearing me up...

If I can't hear your voice tonight,
Then I'll never be alright again.
Time swims across the melody,
And the night just will not end.

Dangerous Game I

Watch me carve myself open,
Guts and ribs in open air,
Baring my soul and all
For you to play upon.

I look sick upon your familiar face
Stomach pouring onto the floor
Dark and fearless, smiling
How you were taught.

Is reality an illusion, or a game?
From your words I could not
Tell if you were laughing,
Or crying, for help.

Your hands reached for my heart,
Sliding easily through flesh
With desire and charm
And determination.

Blood from lack of breathing fell
Upon your soft, wanting skin
My eyes full of realize, but
Yours on the treasure.

Emptied of light, of conscience,
Your thickly drooling gape
Insisting this would help,
This hunt of me.

A world of crimson blurred around
Your pitch black shallow eyes
Upon my very love you'll
Never understand.

I can finally spot the light in hand,
Taken as an edge to myself
Now turned and used to
Free your blood.

The viscous venom upon my carpet
I had once laid out to marry on,
Seeping, poisoning me
Away from him.

I stick it in once more, your sickened
Nerves cut like hairs unfolded,
Yet within, there is naught
But a single spark.

I turn, the fresh breath of what I've done
Seeping into my drowning lungs,
Tingling my endings
Into feeling again.

Shapeshifter -Part IX-

Noon was sleepy and relaxed as I stretched my shoulders, still in my pajamas. I had fed Necro when he alerted me it was time, and drank from some of the best steaming hot apple cider. The autumn, fruity scent filled my heart with homely warmth and joy of the coming season. Narcissa's keys were gone from her tiny bowl, and I felt the sun from the window cascade over my back.

I cozied up in my knit, auburn sweater on my couch in my furry pajama pants, keeping the cool chill out, and resumed my favorite book from yesterday. Hungover-brain fogged my mind a bit but I was just getting to the good part. 

Hours slipped by quickly, and before I knew it I was pulling on my favorite jeans, trying not to fall on my face, scrambling out the door to go see Annabelle again at the bookshop.

I half-ran over to the bookstore, late by only a few minutes, the cool breeze chilling my warm face from rushing so hard. I could see my breath as the sun began to go down while I straightened myself up and pulled the door open.

My golden-haired, six foot friend stood in front of the counter, checking out some books. "Zeph?" I asked, my mouth wide. "When did you get back from Paris?" I smiled, walking up and hugging his soft frame tightly. 

"Just earlier today! It's so nice to be back." he smiled a gentle smile and straightened up his polo shirt. "And how are you doing?" 

"Good! I-" 

"Here to see me?" a melodic voice asked, as Belle strode up to us, silent as the calm before an impending storm.

"Belle! It's great to see you!" I squealed, hugging her a bit awkwardly. 

"This is Zeph, he's one of my best friends, he just got back from Paris!" 

"Oh, hello, I'm Annabelle. Have we met somewhere before?" she asked genuinely, shaking his hand firmly.

"Maybe in passing?" he scratched his head, giving an odd, questioning smirk.

"Eh, I don't know." Belle shrugged and turned to me, her olive skin looking so... soft… "I actually was wondering if you would take me to the local graveyard? I heard it's quite lovely at sun down."

"Well, don't let me spoil your fun." Zeph laughed and sat down at a nearby table with one of his tattered, ancient looking books. "Text me when you're done so we can catch up! And maybe the three of us can grab dinner, sometime." And he was lost to the rest of the universe into the deepest of fictional caverns.

"You know, we can absolutely catch up later. I won't be too long!" There was no response, just a silence left behind by my words going in one of his ears and out the other. I swore I could hear the wind rustling the bushes outside as the air became empty for a few moments.

I turned back to Belle. "Well, let's go then!" Without thinking I grabbed her by the wrist and away we went, back through the creaky, metal door and into the chilly autumn air. 

After the rush of chilled breeze I felt the warmth of her flannel jacket over her wrist and without skipping a beat, let go and felt my face heat up. We casually walked the old roads of Marblehead, the sidewalks crumbling and vines crawling up the sides of aged, crooked houses. I pulled her along by her arm occasionally, as she stopped to gape at our historic architecture.

"You are very new here, aren't you?" I asked with a smirk. "Are you impressed?"

She looked me up and down suggestively. "Absolutely." She reached out to take my waist. 

"Just wait until you see the gazebo." I turned before she could reach me and kept walking, knowingly up the winding roads, smirking along the way. What, am I seventeen again?

Finally we came to the steep, grassy hill with a set of stone stairs built into the side. The cemetery smelled of freshly cut grass, combined with dying leaves and an air of humidity. I could see why, as the sky filled with ashen, heavy clouds on our walk over. A single, cold rain drop touched my nose.

"Wow, this place looks ancient." Belle remarked, eyes wide at the steep mount of dirt, dotted with different ages of tombstones.

"It goes back to the seventeen-hundreds. There's a lot of history here." I said with pride. 

We marched up the smooth stone stairs, each gigantic step more tiring than the previous. As we came upon the halfway mark, we could see the wooden, cesious gazebo, the pointed roof towering above the old tombstones scattered in every direction. As we came upon the peak I shivered as the skies opened up above us, the cold rain drenching us completely. We ran up the grey stone path and onto the cement floor of the old structure.

"It wasn't supposed to rain today!" I nervously laughed, feeling the weight of my water-soaked braids coolly dripping all over me. A freezing chill rolled down my spine. I took off my icy sweater and laid it on the bench next to me, where I sat on the dry, old wood. I looked out at the misty, showering rain, which coated the tombstones darker and the ground with a richness I had seen so many times before. But this time was so… different. In my gut was a sense of profound, universal, almost magical timing. 

"Well, I suppose we're stuck here now, aren't we?" Belle remarked, sitting right next to me.

I looked from her over to the carvings myriads of people had made into the layers of paint upon the wooden support beams of the gazebo. Wow... Last time I was here... The memories left a dull wrench in my gut, reminding me of the last time I saw them, their perfectly picked outfit for our anniversary, and their eternally dark eyes filled with regret and anguish while I broke off our engagement. 

"I know you like me, a lot... But I'm not sure I can do this." I stood up, taking away my arm from touching Belle's, and breathed in deeply. I couldn't stop looking at the carvings I had made with my first love so many years ago on the beam standing right over me. Jagged hearts scarred the paint, and gave me an itch within my chest that I couldn't quite scratch away with my untrimmed nails; A reminder of all the time I had given up to the pursuit of love.

Annabelle intensely gazed at me, but I couldn't quite meet her face with my own eyes. I paused a few moments, but there was no reply.

"After all of the relationships I've been through, that have brought me up to this... This just feels a little too familiar. I didn't mean to lead you on." I finally looked at her face, and she gave up no emotion or expression in stark contrast with the flowery, pointed look she had just a few minutes prior. She stood up, still staring, hands in her pockets of her black, flannel coat. I couldn't quite be sure, but I did a double take as I thought I saw her standing there without water having even touched any part of her hair or clothes. I quickly shook my head as if to try to clear it, and I saw her standing there, drenched but not shivering a bit. 

"I see. So you need time?" She asked, the lack of inflection in her voice still unnerving and hollow. 

"I think so. I won't mind hearing from you now and then, but it's just too soon for me to be having any sort of crushes."

"So you do have a crush on me?" She asked, hesitantly.

"That's not really the point, dear." I felt a short rush of annoyance. Typical. "I think it would be best if I go home."

"As you wish." She said blankly, sitting back down the bench, just watching.

The rain, as if the thunderous skies had heard my request, settled down so I could walk away from this girl in peace. 

The walk home was cold, and lonely, but I couldn't escape the feeling of my heart beating through my chest and satisfaction every time my boots stomped the ground, one step after another. Oh, what did you do? I asked myself over and over, taking out my irritation on the soaked sidewalks underfoot. I can't feel bad for needing space.

But what if to move on, I need to give in?

Itching Underneath

Ivory tusks trapped under skin
Aching and swelling within the rush
Bursting with yearn to feel the wind
Which envelopes the sundered, dead brush

Swaying my desire to be freed
As the skeletons of old bones spread
Gently under the depressed, old tree
Witness to my claw-marks seeking tread

My blood boiling, writhing, tingling nerves
Wishing for freedom from this cage
From these monstrous, clinging flesh curves
I once believed were beautiful

Without the pain and the hollowed heart
My soul, empty isolation
Happy becomes a moment of art
Of love, of divine emotion

Moves the ivory, the teeth and bone
To rest within the muscle walls
Scratching the innards no more alone
No more at all, the loved one calls

The swelling to calm and settle slow
Upon a midnight, eyes of sleep
His voice is heard once again, below
The depressed, old tree's kept from weep

One more time before the cold night ends
His light rays shine upon me some;
Thawing every touch the love would send
Beating fast, flesh has overcome

Dread of nightmare steals the sleep time
His voice rings clear to stall the fears
Wings keep safe as a blanket of lyme,
Stone to keep away streams of tears.

Shapeshifter: Part V

Shackles holding me upright against a smooth stone surface, I awoke to... a different realm entirely, turning my stomach to shreds and stealing my breath from my heaving chest. Spheres the size of houses tumbled and turned in a black infinite abyss, dotting the vista with stars of lost hope above and around me. The spheres barely missed me, but those dots in the sky didn't look quite right either, almost as if each one had its own expressions and emotions as if they were some how alive. This turned my vision blotchy, and I attempted to close my eyes but it burned with the strength of a searing pan from an oven. I didn't dare look down in the horror that I may have been, in fact, floating, as my legs dangled past the slab I was tied to. I tried to close my eyes but they refused, and my body screamed as I opened my mouth and no sound escaped, as if I had never had one. I saw nothing of myself besides my left arm, which looked darker and skinny, a long hand sprouting forth with even longer fingers; I wasn't sure I could get used to the sight of it and panicked even further than what I believed my limits were. The unease in my stomach came to a vomit as I felt something alive within me, trying to emerge (crawl?) up my throat. The lack of breath running through my throat did not disturb me in the least, as if I never even had lungs. A windy whirring sound caught my attention for a brief few seconds, which came louder and louder, as if something were moving towards my dangling, infinitesimal body in this chaotic world of the strange. The thing in me was slimy and was coming out any way it could, a few tendrils, possibly even tentacles, at a time. Expanding and stretching, I felt my throat about to burst.

I woke up face-planting the floor again, this time too late, and I squeaked with a half scream into the solid floor when I turned my head. With a muffled thud all of me landed without too much harm done. I coughed and gasped loudly, a horribly loud cacophony of wheezes coming from my exasperated body. I writhed along the floor and held onto the rug until my breath finally slowed a bit, sweat covering the once clean, pink fluff of my small rug. I felt the terrible stomach drop of foreboding and with a start, I paused, and ran to the bathroom to vomit what was left of my dinner.

I'm never eating calamari again, I repeated in my head like a broken record, tears flowing down my face from the toxic taste of bad, half-digested seafood and bile.  After hours of retching, I was finally empty and laid on my side on the cushy blue bath mat, my muscles aching and my stomach feeling like I had swallowed needles. 

"Water..." I croaked to the air, pushing on my leg to slowly shamble over to the kitchen to get a glass, nearly falling with each reach of my now weakly legs. The walls were an excellent tool for catching myself, at the least. The cool liquid soothed the irritation while that sustenance helped my stomach stop turning with every second gone by. With a fumble or two, I hastily searched for my phone, the only device between herself and I. My 'men's' flannel pajama pants tried to contain the phone forever, but alas, I beat them at their own game by taking the phone out of its textured, industrial case. No new notifications lit up the bleak, depressing screen with 9:52 A. M. read on it. I opened the texting app and quickly typed out "Good morning. It's Annabelle" before staring into the white, infinite light that was the message box.

If I put a winking face after, it might seem too forward or creepy. But if I put no smiley I might sound like an ass. But if I do use a smiley she might think I'm too friendly. Or she might hate smileys. Goddamned human norms...

I started breathing shorter and I placed my phone down, closed my eyes, and inhaled with all of my might. My lungs were squashed like the gods were clamping down on each one with a large, muscular hand.

Calm down, Annabelle... You idiot... I really need to do something about this anxiety, and this weird lung-squeezing sensation.. It's going to become a huge problem. And with that thought, I forced my shaking hands to pick up my phone, type a regular smiley face and send the message, then dragged myself over to the marshmallow couch with frailty. I let the couch devour all of me that it would allow, with a box of crackers in one hand and The Dreamlands Journals: X in the other.

Serena will be here soon, at least. Hopefully she's good. I'd hate to lose another mundane servant...

The Dreamlands series didn't sit as well with me today as it normally would, as I kept flashing back where I was a few hours ago. Each time I saw the long, thin, brown arm coming out of me, my stomach turned once more. My body crawled with specks of pins and needles all over with my strangely quick, but quite normal healing abilities. The clock chirped as it struck noon, and my crackers were running low. I prepared to see Serena by primping my messy bun and wiping off my streaked makeup from some days prior. After all, who doesn't love a post-scheming B. O.?

Serena was normal, to say the least; 'Mundane' and 'inconspicuous' were her middle names. The stomach churns pried my attention from The Journals and, giving up, I decided to watch Serena instead. I had barely noticed her coming in as she gave a mousy "hello!" and begun the work I was paying her for immediately. She had shoulder length wavy brown hair pulled into a top knot with a bandanna over most of it, with dark brown eyes and an earnest vibe that seeped into everything she touched. She was perfectly normal, for hired help. The best part about her was her lack of awareness of my false walls.

My leg itched when, with a buzz, my phone finally vibrated. I picked it up, and it was her.

"Good Afternoon :)

You and me, martinis, 7 o'clock tonight. You in?"

Her forwardness never ceased to impress me, and I dropped my phone onto the wooden table with a clatter while holding my breath. I read it over once, then twice, then three times, after picking it up with a careful grip.

"She wasn't supposed -" Serena turned and looked at me, listening, as she was the only person here. "I just -" I stopped at that, feeling my mind start shorting out, and made a heel turn before swiftly sliding on my striped socks into my bedroom.

"She wasn't... She wasn't supposed to ask me out... THIS soon..." I half-breathed to the air. The other half was a loud, ever increasing wheeze. My senses began veering, as I then heard the ticking of the analog clock as if it were right next to my ear, TICK... TOCK... TICK... TOCK... The ticking began to drift away, but before I could feel relief, I smelled the cleaning solution Serena used in the kitchen filling my nostrils with ammonia. My nose and sinuses were on fire, and I threw myself on the bed at the woozy unraveling of my balance.

After what felt like a whole day of having my eyes closed, I then could hear my phone vibrating inside my brain, my skull, my bones, like magical vibrations were torturing and sensationalizing my unassuming body before I even knew what was happening.

Magical seizure? The words came to mind, but I hadn't felt anything like it before in the 106 years I had been on this strange earth.

Asthma... Magic... HALT. I gathering up all the Willpower I could within myself, feeling it flow through me like a warm, violent liquid. That I could concentrate was certainly a miracle, allowing me to finally end the curse Annabelle had been stricken with from infancy. Warm liquid pooled in my lungs and it stung and burned as hot as lava. If you could imagine pouring bleach into your chest cavity, that wouldn't even begin to describe the agony I had just begun putting myself through. The pain in my chest completely covered all of the pain I would have had to bear within my skull.

I maintained a firm grip on the flannel sheets and quilted blankets of my bed, just barely being able to direct my screams into the bed, hopefully muffling them enough that Serena wouldn't hear.

I awoke several hours later facing my ceiling, all of my pain and mental anguish finally gone. The relief overflowed within my soft, squishy shell of a body. My lungs felt oddly clear and free from strain, and my head was sorting itself out at a quick and steady tempo. "Thank the Gods." I whispered to the peace and quiet of my room. The different recesses of my mind, no matter how deep, had been knocked around quite a bit. I could feel the disarray cluttering corners and niches of the dark halls that mapped my thoughts. My palms stung with nail marks where I had clawed through the silk, violet sheets, drawing drops of blood.


I rolled over with more ease than ever before, my new body finally becoming accustomed to my unfamiliar spirit. Enjoying the lifting of weights off of my chest, I reached for my phone on the cold, solid end table.

It was all real, right?
To my delight, the message was actually there. The anxiety of the day that had melted away was soon replaced with overwhelming determination. I caught myself smiling at my phone as I answered, "Sure! I'd love that." 

Shapeshifter -Part IV-

This woman I stole had been in impeccable physical health, but she had the anxiety of someone who had been through more than a few incidents in her life. I didn't have time to reflect on it as she sucked me into this deep conversation that I was letting her trap me into. I was a willing participant, strung up in her web of anecdotes. Her words always gave me both a flutter in my stomach and a tightness in my chest, like a titan squeezed around my lungs with an enormous grip. It was both familiar and incredible, though the squeezing was a bit harder than my liking in this body.

Not showing my unease, I hoped, I forced myself to breathe the best I could, and timed it with the ticking of my designer watch, at the same time demanding my eyes to stop looking anywhere but into hers.

"Do you understand what I mean?" she looked straight at me, a sincerely concerned look on her face. She's been talking this whole time and all I've been doing is breathing. God. Damn. It.

"Yeah. Thank you." I smiled, speaking slightly better than squeaking, this time.

"So what's bothering you? What's on your mind, hun? You look lost."

I looked down awkwardly, trying to use body language to my advantage. "I don't really want to talk about it, thanks though." Damn it, why did I do that? Looking around in a small panic I said, "Honestly I'd really just like to talk with you about other things, if that's okay."

"Oh? Well how would you like to hear about my most recent breakup?" She gave a smile that read about as innocent as a demon of depravity.

"Uh, yeah, sure." Shit. SHit. SHIt. SHIT. 

"Let me tell you something, this lady was incredible. She was beautiful, rich, good at making love, and cared about me. But you know how sometimes people can get a little too into you?"

I stared blankly and just barely nodded.

"She was possessive, you know? She said that she just couldn't bear to see me with anyone else, whether it be an acquaintance or a friend. Total bullshit, if you ask me. Happens all the time, though" she sighed. "Everyone else I know has issues with guys or ladies cheating on them, and I'm over here with the stalkers." she laughed. It sounded like the Christians' version of the Devil in my ears.

I believed that I was keeping my calm well, until I realized my eyes were spread wide in amazement. My mouth was definitely also agape. "I suppose I can imagine what you mean... After all, people need their space, right?"

I frantically searched my mind for hundreds of ways I could distract myself and have time for myself while dating her, and exactly zero of them were appealing to me. Reading? I've read every book I own plus I already read two books per day from the library. Painting? Boring. Music? Already d --

"Damn straight... What was your name again, sweetie?"

We exchanged names and numbers, and that was the moment I made it my mission to let her have time for herself at all costs, for the fifth time. The first time didn't count, since I didn't truly know her until it was too late. But this time, the sixth relationship, I am making my fifth attempt at this 'space' thing count.

That evening after I went home, all I could do was sit and breathe while my mind gradually churned slower from the excitement that afternoon. I sipped my finest whiskey with my back slouched into the new marshmallow couch I had delivered a few days prior. Even though the television was on, I didn't see it. I didn't even truly hear it. My eyes looked but the rest of me was seeing micro expressions, blinks, shimmering hair, all belonging to her. Why did I have to choose a body with such bad anxiety? I agonized over how the conversation went, over and over through my chaotic brain.

Though, after a while, it turned into my past faces, my new face, my plans, my life... And
like the waves of an ocean, my mind caressed the edges of the coast of where my wonder sat. Why am I the way I am? And if the Gods made humanity, then who made ME? I jumped out of my seat as I saw Vincent's face stare back at me from the lit screen. And now I'm hallucinating again. Great. My whiskey now covering the nearby rug, I wandered to bed and laid in the darkness, truly feeling how alone I was for the first time for as long as I could remember. Those questions lurked ever closer than before, creeping about the corners and niches of my mind while I tried to focus on anything, everything else. Each and every one haunted me into my sleep.