Oblivion (By Cat Matchuk)

Shovel this dirt.
It’s not good enough
I need more,
more dirt,
less of me. Continue reading “Oblivion”
Words bring forward stars to forge a world from the ink, breathe, your heart will write.
Shovel this dirt.
It’s not good enough
I need more,
more dirt,
less of me. Continue reading “Oblivion”
I can no longer tell if this shadow
hidden
somewhere deep
was created or always was. Continue reading “On the Edge”
I screamed
at the top of my lungs,
but in my head,
no one heard.
It was a tragic incident. Losing a loved one always is. But this tragedy struck the small town of Twin Peak Valley like a lightning bolt, and disappeared just the same. Even the parents of the missing girl passed by her empty coffin, without so much as a glance. It was as if the whole thing never happened.
There you were, frail and weak,
if I touched you, you were sure to fall apart.
I knew you were there, and I knew you were alive,
I could hear it from the beating of your heart.
Day brought the shadows when it shone too bright,
created the darkness to dance with the light.
Blame the sun for burning,
fire on your skin,
and watch as the clouds abandon the sky.
You see me, you see right through,
past the flesh and into the heart.
Awaking from a dream just to stumble across the broken concrete of buildings,
you wish to be dreaming again, it’s better.
“He is going to die,” Death says to me. I follow his gaze to a man who appears to be in his late twenties. He’s sporting shaggy black hair and a leather jacket. The man smiles apologetically as he fumbles in his pocket for coffee money. I turn back to Death and with a raised eyebrow the first thing I ask is,
“Why?” Continue reading “Nox”