Untitled by Marquite, literature
It was raining. Not pouring, but enough to mask the stray tears that trailed down the cheeks of those present. Except for me. I had no tears left. He had taken them all during the four years he had been in my life. No, controlled my life. It had taken every ounce of strength I had to fight my way out of it, and then it had taken every ounce of willpower to survive afterwards. To cope with the stalking. The threats. The hacking of my social media, my mail. The accusations. Then one day, it stopped. Like the hitting of a switch. It was as if he had disappeared from the face of the earth. But then, two weeks later I got a call. The police had f
Ego Immutati by Same-side, literature
I hear the screams of the dead inside my bones. How quietly they rumble and roar, How ravenously they hunger for "-------." I break under the weight of diaphanous darkness. How tenderly it peels my eyelids, How honestly it hides the light of truth. I feel the worms that feed on ancestral tombs. How full they are of unfinished business, How rueful they are their dinner is cold. I wonder at the gods whose temples crumbled. How pleasant is their wrathful judgment, How honored is their forgotten sacrilege. I hate the hollow masks singing grace and hypocrisy. How hauntingly they ring with life, How freely they fetter my convicted soul. I curse holiness with fists unfurled and tears unspilled. How wonderfully they betray my frailty, How awesomely they declare surrender. I resist no more the reckoning I was dead to. How merciful are his torments, How beautiful are his thorns.