QuillandInkWhispers

I wish to paint the wind what colours should I use? To paint the noble North Wind, I'll brush many shades of blue But the wind off the sea, death defying and cold, textures of grey, ancient and old. Warm winds from the south sooths as it sighs red and yellow colours to give the wind it's size

He bows his head and breathes a deep, gravelly sigh through his nose The cigarette is short damn close to tremor adopted fingertips Ash falls over the rail of the balcony he needs one more hit Hiss, hiss, hiss his throat shudders, burning from the buildup of salt The glass door slides open “That’s everything,” she says He turns, standing tall The living room lacks color demolished by stacks of boxes he’d brought from the warehouse He stubs out an already diminished cigarette in a piled ashtray ignores the scent of cheap cologne that didn’t belong to him and pulls out the pack to retrieve another stick “Take care,” he says as he turns, looking down at the city once more The glass slides closed She’s cursing on the other side of the room The front door slams He brings a hand to the side of his face chuckling as if he’d just heard the funniest shit ever

lumière en faute les arbres tiennent encore l’eau garde tout bas   the light is at fault the trees still hold their ground firm water keeps all low

Shadows lost to mine Eyes invisible to the light Harvester of moons and distant worlds Keeper of the diamond mire Chasing infinity Caught out in God's device and design Soul salvation Swallowed by the night It was written in a dream

on a décrété la fin parce que tout semblait tenir   mais dessous ça travaillait déjà   le vert ne demande pas il avance   ce qui a été fermé n’était qu’une forme   rien ne revient tout se déplace   et dans ce déplacement une autre légitimité apparaît   we declared it the end because everything seemed to hold   but underneath it was already at work   green does not ask it moves forward   what was closed was only a form   nothing returns everything shifts   and in that shift another legitimacy emerges          

the door is open sun shines in, you back away my heart is breaking

It was apparent she was trying to impart something without words. A flood of broken images swarmed like an angry hive, eating my senses bit by bit. It was aggressive, rapid, annoying, colorful, and intense. Something I could hear and see simultaneously. I was confused. This was new to me. Was she implanting these images in my head? I didn’t understand, so I looked back at her. She smiled, but only her eyes held the answer. Then something changed. The images reversed dynamically—slowing, deepening—like she was adjusting an invisible control. The colors melded, and the shapes of objects transformed into something bordering dangerously close to memory. Not mine. Hers. Or maybe the right word was ours. I can’t breathe. I can’t breathe. Hot and painful is the pressure behind my eyes. My mind’s veneer is cracking. What— What was happening? My mouth works the question out. It falls, abandoned, never to be asked. She stepped in, spirit shrapnel. She is not touching me, but I feel her in

A serene life burns out like a torch, In the fire, this gorenje is so insignificant, There's also a soul from the chest, it doesn't tear, And the heart is silent, from that greyness, Only shadows flicker, one after the other, Carry grief, wander and curl around, Giving birth to all the bad weather, adversities of life, It boils violently, and the real nothing, Evil alone promises eternal darkness, Which famously catches all the shadows, They reflect my past lives, My memories are damp, with a soul, Drooping, the body becomes numb in hopelessness, And ahead stands the source of evil, He will rest in a world where there has been no goodness for a long time, Raging in waves, in my quiet gaze, In that silence, you can only hear a voice, The call of passion in supplication, without an answer, And I'm actually there, so insignificant at all, My fate is blackening day by day, I'm always worried about my nerves, A black wave will swoop in and hit you hard, With his revenge, then he falls down

The Lights Along the Tunnel             By J.C. Solis   There is a boy that’s alone in this world In a dark place where his life has unfurled An abyss of nothing, no chance of sight A place so sullen, devoid of all light   There is a boy who cries into the dark A boy who carries on life grown so stark A light bulb above him, tears are now shed Surrounded by dark, of living and dead   The light bulb now flickers, he must move on To find a new light before grace is now gone Along the tunnel, a new light still glows Along this tunnel, the darkness still grows   The light bulb is snuffed, his cries now get worse The life of the child now becomes a curse The path is ahead, to the next light he goes Yet how to get there, nobody does know   The dark ravine, he must cross through life’s pain A feeling, through turmoil, that never wains The life in the dark that tries to snuff hope The life that all humans must come to cope   The Life he must live, it hurts and is coarse Yet he must move on, as