2016 will soon be gone.
Mourning can be such fun.
🍹THE DEAD GAME🍹 by SusanneLeist
HAPPY NEW YEAR!
Month: December 2016
THE NIGHT
quietmoodygirl: benjoyment: Last night’s Supermoon.
The night is here.
The moon creeps
through a thick maze of clouds.
The stars sparkle
in the dark blanket of sky.
Welcome the dark shadows.
The night walkers.
The dreamers.
The ghosts of past years.
Those who walk the earth
in the dead of night.
Welcome the night creatures.
All who are brave enough
to face the night.
For the night is here to stay.
ROW YOUR BOAT
Row Your Boat
Take out a boat and row.
Row as far as you can.
As fast as you can.
To a place of fantasies.
Dark illusions.
A place where nothing
is what it seems.
Where anything is possible.
Take a chance.
The improbable might
become the possible.
THE MIST
THE MIST
The mist follows close at my heels,
Relentless in its pursuit of me.
Tall trees block my escape from this forest,
Trapping the sunlight amidst their leaves.
A trap waits for me at every turn,
Poison ivy and open holes among the lot.
I refuse to be trapped by the evil one,
The one who desires me most of all.
I will break free from his unearthly grasp,
His icy grip clutching me too close.
He might be the leader of The Dead,
But he will never be my mate for life.
I must make a run for it now,
For any later will be too late.
THE DEAD GAME
Kindle
http://amzn.to/1lKvMrP
TAKE ME TO THE CHURCH
Take me to the church.
The town’s on fire.
Hell has let loose its demons.
Take me to the church.
The Town Hall has lost its windows.
The Dead are taking over the town.
Take me to the church.
I refuse to become one of The Dead.
We must run for shelter.
Take me to the church.
Hell is raining down upon us.
Creatures are stalking us.
Take me to the church.
It stands no more.
Gone in a puff of smoke.
Take me away from here.
Amen.
THE DEAD GAME
Fortune #DailyPost
We are but small pebbles in the midst of a big storm, rolling, rolling, until we fall into the great void. On the way we hold on to our memories, our feelings, our fears, our hopes. Sometime, for a few seconds, we encounter peace. It does not last, pebbles are not made to rest.
Photo: Böcklin, Toteninsel
A BLACK ROSE
What could make roses turn black?
What evil could take away
A dark heart could turn
to black.
ALL STORIES HAVE AN END
Source:melisica
All stories have an end.
This is mine.
I live behind this door.
No one visits.
As footsteps draw near,
I look out the peephole.
I never answer the bell.
I slink away into my dungeon
of lost hopes and dreams.
Neighbors stay away.
Family doesn’t care.
Would you?
ONLY A PICTURE
Can a picture capture the ocean?
Can it reveal changing colors,
ripples of the waves,
reflections of the deep?
A mirror to the sky.
Hold the picture up high.
The image lies flat and stagnant,
missing the life and energy
of nature’s creations.
END HOUSE
End House sits alone.
Its shutters hanging.
Furniture upended.
Shattered pictures.
Shattered dreams.
Open the door.
Walk up the battered staircase.
Past the broken statues.
A house ravaged by a storm.
Inside and out.
A storm not felt by neighbors.
What happened?
THE DEAD GAME
