Thursday, February 21, 2019

More and later and over time

The easy thing to do would be to admit that I am crazy. In ways, I am. But the truth is something else entirely. There is always something hunting me as I hunt them. There is always something there which whispers strange truths into my ear keeping me tormented by reality.

I can't stop knowing. With this knowledge, there is a desire to act upon this knowledge, but yet I cannot always understand the big picture, you see.

I think I want to tell the truth of it all. I think I want to try so hard to explain what happens now. It's different than before. Now, I cannot sleep, I cannot eat, and I feel so sick. There's something bad coming and I cannot stop it. I cannot pinpoint it either...mostly. This is because I cannot connect one with the other in this knowing.

When they die, I feel it. When they're drawn away, I feel it. I feel when enemies are near. I feel when I am being betrayed. I feel that something is coming. I feel the energy shift and the air get tight around me. I cannot remember and I don't know where I am. I shiver, shake, heart races, breath quickens.....I just know and I hate knowing and I hate being cursed with knowing. I hate this so much and wish I was dumb or ignorant or I don't know. I just wish I couldn't know that which I cannot grab hold to. Why do I have to know and not be able to fix it?

I always wanted to cover up the truth with vampires and werewolves, you know. Because, you know, fantasy is always much more interesting than the truth. I wanted to tell stories about zombies and even silly little love stories too.

I am tired. I am so tired of pretending that I don't see things and I don't feel presences. I am tired of pretending that I don't hear the words in my head, near my ear, and through the trees. Fore, these things are not stories. These things are why I cannot breathe anymore. They are why I cannot sleep. They are why I am allergic to all my food now. I cannot contain the knowledge and it's eating me alive from inside.

Look, I don't know why, but I know things.... a lot...quite often. They won't leave me alone. It's not just about my imaginary friends anymore. It's like the whole world is moaning in pain and expecting me to do something about it, and I can't. It's like they're screaming in my ear and I can't pick apart the voices.

I hate the dissociation afterward when knowing bombards my brain and hits me so hard that I am numb. There's just too much. There's just too much of this for me. It's only getting worse. I mean, what am I supposed to do with this? When I know, what am I supposed to use that knowing for? If I warn people, they think I'm insane. If I attempt to reach out to the knowing, I get nothing. It's like this heightened intuition that comes to me when it wants to and all I can do is freeze and watch its weirdness happen.


Just tell me...why does it even show itself to me in the first place. I think I just don't have the ability to utilize it. I just dont know what to do. :(

Natalie's truth

It's been a while. It's been a long while, to be honest. I haven't written because my life has shifted again. Jake left me alone with them, long after my aunt died and shortly after our relationship failed. I moved from the house on Graham, the one where she died, yes. I moved and they came with me. I wanted them to. I asked them to come the day I packed the last of my belongings into the car. I asked them to come with me because it was just a nice thing to do, you see.

 It was warm that day, not too hot but hot enough to kick up dust. I had one more load to carry over to my new rental. I packed the rest and sat down by my old flower bed. I was sad, to say the least. Oh god, I was tormented by the move and leaving my little brick home. Then I thought of them, the ones out in the mimosas. I thought about the children that I would leave behind and the others.

"Hello..."

There was a breeze there, in those frilly decorative trees I love so much. I realized that I would also be leaving the mimosas. A friend of mine dug up a root and took it with her. Claims she will grow her own mimosa tree. I didn't do the same. I think I had other things in mind.

"I know you're here. My heart hurts and it's because I'm leaving you."

For 6 years I held their tiny hands in mine, feeling the pressure left there from their energy. I believed and I didn't believe, and that's why I started hunting them. The disbelief crossed the belief when I couldn't hear them for a long while. Then suddenly they would run squealing from behind the Graham house and across the front yard. I could hear their tiny feet pounding the ground as they run. Then I crossed the threshold again into belief...faith.

"I don't want to leave but I have to."

The sadness was palpable. I could taste the bitterness of it. I did not want to leave them and I think it was the worst part. I stared at the brick wall directly opposite of her death bed. I knew she would come with me, but what of the children?

"Come with me. I want you to come with me."

I cried then. Shortly after, I left Graham house for the last time.

Tuesday, August 2, 2016

I am you and you are me...


The solomn hypnotic

"Can you hear me?"

 I stood beneath the withered trees and the climbing castle towers, and I was here again to find him. Looking to my right, I saw a pathway winding through a thin cluster of trees. It was always a place that looked like madness. My soul gravitates toward darkened pathways, lonely sidewalks and avenues between churches and two-story southern homes left vacant and dusty. On the left, I saw the church and right beside it was the old two-story white house. The shadows between the two ran striped patterns across the grass.

 I was always here, moving between mimosas, oaks, and other spindly little trees. For, I have yet to leave my past behind and cannot grow old despite my age. I was hollow again, my heart ached as if I had lost something. Maybe I had lost something, a thing fairly tall and dark as everything around me. I could have been something that barely slipped across my fingertips and dropped away, or maybe I was just fantasizing. But I could not call out to the thing because I was terrified of the silence between us.

“I am imagining things again, aren’t I? It is lost but it doesn’t know it’s lost.”

I spoke to one who was holding my hand, the dark thing chirped and whirred like an insect. It was a culmination of all I had hoped for, the dark thing, she was. She was a compiled form that was taken away slowly, and with cold severance. But in quiet, while no one was looking, I whisked her away to myself.
 It was here, I thought. I looked at my hand again and it was gone. Turning my palm to my face, I saw nothing but remnants of black smoke gently gliding up into the navy blue sky. The tendrils of darkness danced between the withered fingers of the trees and then disappeared.

“Please.”

But I was too old for this. I was too old to play in the dark world that I had created. I brought her back to help me and she showed me that everything and everyone was gone now. She laughed despite my terror.

“You are there or you are here. There is no in-between, my dear.”

I rode the in-between like it was the firm stitch in the cloth of my ratted tattered gown. I was torn, torn as the hem of my gown. I wanted to lie in the crisp bright day, the sun warming my skin and the birds reminding me that I was smiling, but…

“You cannot ride the in-between.”

It was a revelation or sorts, but the same revelation heard over and over, years and decades before. Dare say I felt a few centuries in my soul.

“Shhhh, it’s a secret. Look between the church and white house. He waits there for you.”

A dark figure pronounced that my surroundings weren’t that dark at all, at least not as dark as he. I moved toward him but tripped falling to the pavement. An ebony bright puddle of water looked up at my me. But it was a cold white fabric face, stitched as well. I removed the mask and I saw her there.

“He doesn’t know who you are.”

I was pale, dark-eyed and framed with dark red hair. My face was my own, but it was hers as well. I had been crying and it marred thick bands of darkness around my eyes. I followed trails of blood to the corners of my mouth.  For a moment, I saw curtains of dark glitter fall all around my messy face.

“I have failed. I let the moment pass and now it was too late. Is he still there, dark one?”

I looked up from the puddle and the alley was bare. I saw movement in the trees and then figures weaving in and out from behind the church walls.

“Who are they.”

“They don’t know yet. They’re waiting for you to name them.”

“Stop this! Stop this madness! Help me!”

She reached pulling me from the road and from my shame. A distant bell sounded and I knew it was midnight. But midnight didn’t matter anymore and the moon was still large. All the things I had created were somewhere playing a role or waiting to exist again.

 I was standing between a school and a church glaring toward the soft grass by the old white house, and the castle loomed above it all. There were roads in all directions and the one I stood upon started to shift between gray and black.  Amidst the melancholy detail of my existence, I could almost see her form, solid. Flittering things made the air look blurry blue across her back. I could smell the rose scent coming from her skin.

“Why did you think I could help you? This is your doing. You are the one who cut it away. The fabrics of many colours-the coats, to be religious about it, you divided them, crumpled them and set them aflame!”

And I did. I was coarse, hard and unrelenting. The dark figure embraced me and I screamed until every shadow disappeared and the earth was heaven counterfeit. I watched the shadows move away, handsome in features, dark eyes, dark hair and a softness that cradled my heart. I couldn’t see it, nor could I feel it and so the complacency of it all gave way to false hope and comfort. Did I kill it? No, but surely there was no difference between death and this wretched agony.

“If only I could touch his fingertips-the one that surely waits within the trees.”

“No.”

“Please.”

Her dark figure was the only one before me. All around the little houses and the winding roads-they were silent.

“ Help me find him, please.”

She leaned close and wrapped her own filmy form around about me. She pulled my stitching tawt and wiped the dark blood from beneath my eyes. Her eyes were mine and mine were hers, as everything else about us. I cried again.

“Open your mouth.”

She bent forward as if to kiss me. I saw it, there in her mouth, a winged thing. It fluttered, passing from her lips to mine and I gasped. The dust from its wings coated my tongue and the roof of my mouth. She closed my mouth and pressed the palm of her hand against my lips. I felt the thing flitter and flop inside my mouth. I whimpered.

“Shhh”

She kissed my cheek and felt her smile against my skin as well.


“Now, close your eyes.”


Monday, August 1, 2016

Come in. Have a seat

Hello darlin'. Nice to see you. It's been a long time.

Sunday, July 31, 2016

What I am thinking now August 1, 2016


My mind is a-swirl with some of the same things and yet, difference has made an appearance as well. As you may or may not know, I am medicated for the most part, but this is what I have done:
I have stopped taking the spirit killer because I couldn’t breathe. There was no motivation to leave the couch and there was no fire to fight with. I wanted to sleep most of the time and my chronic physical pain helped with that as well.
Oh this is so boring, so boring! Basically, I am holding tight reigns on her and it’s more difficult than you think. She burns within, bursting through every layer of my defenses. Somehow I manage to keep the outer gate closed.
How much more? How can it be so damning to yearn for release. I am so tired. So unbelievably tired of having no pasture for my fairy to run, no ocean to swim and no forests to frolick. I am in pain, literal pain. This restraint is breaking me in two.
Just my thoughts, I should sleep

If she lets me.

Natie and Jake, she's here now

He took several pictures of the outside wall while I stared into the mimosas. The blooms were gone now, and large pods covered the ground beneath the trees. As I stepped into the foliage, carcases of seed pods crackled and shifted with the weight of my feet. I was pulled away from my grief momentarily by the speech of their dry dead bodies. Dead, they were dead too, come and gone so fast and no one cared. Does anyone really care about anything after its dead for a while?

 “Natie look!”

 I turned toward Jake who stood directly in front of the back brick wall of my house. He was staring at the pictures he had taken just a moment ago. Something was obviously stealing his attention.

 “What is it, Jake?”

 He turned to me and smiled. His shaking hand revealed that he wasn’t altogether happy, part of him was terrified. “Look at this.”

 Jake pushed the camera toward. I took a look for myself. The picture was nothing special at first, just a brick wall with a high window. Then I saw what he was talking about. It was a face, or at least, it looked like a face.

 “It’s her, right?”

 I didn’t speak for a moment. I stared at the window with the image smeared onto the glass. It wasn’t that clear and so I handed the camera back to Jake.

 “I’m not sure. I cannot tell who that looks like, if it’s really a person at all. I think it’s possible that you could be grasping at things. My son could have pressed his face against the glass and made that impression, you know.”

 But I did notice the face and I didn’t remember my son pressing his face against the glass, yet I didn’t want to get too excited or frightened, not yet.

“Natie, that’s a face, and see…” Jake clicked through the images. “Here’s another one, but the face is gone. Oh Natie, that ghost is in there, and it wants to contact us.”

 I stared at the clear window in the photo. I was terrified by the fact that my aunt could be in that room, the room where my children sleep every night. The nightmare images flashed momentarily through my mind and I shivered. The thought of Franklin was completely gone now, only the thought of coming face to face with a dead thing prevailed.

 “Jake, do you think we should stop?”

 Jake put his undivided attention on my face, then my chest and then my face again. “I…I don’t know. What do you want to do?”

 I took the camera from Jake and looked at the images again. There in one image was a face, and in the next one, nothing at all, Just the edges of the curtain. “Take another one, Jake.”

 Jake took a couple more pictures of the window and then took pictures of the wall, the mimosas and a few pictures of me.

 “Smile babe.”

 But I didn’t want to smile. I wanted to cry and go stay somewhere else, but I had nowhere else to go. “Let me see the pictures.”

 Jake chuckled softly and looked down at the camera. He clicked to the viewing screen and nodded. “You are beautiful in front of the Mimosas. The green of the leaves contrasts with your red hair…sexy.”

 “Jake, can you get on with it. Do you see anything?”

 Jake clicked and clicked until he stopped. I saw his face change, his smile dropped.

“What is it?”

 Jake looked at me and then back at the screen.

 “Is the face in the window?” But the face wasn’t in the window, and the face wasn’t looming within the mimosas.

 “Look, don’t freak out.”

 “Give me that!” I snatched the camera from the idiot who thought it was better to drag things out.

 Maybe a face wasn’t in any of the other pictures but there was a face in the image on the view screen. It was a picture of me standing by the wall, and there within the bricks were the contours of a face. Rounded surfaces pulled the hardness of the wall into a bulging image. It seemed to be scowling. Dark brick eyes were glaring at me. I didn’t mean to, but I dropped the camera. Thanks to the dead pods from the mimosa, Jake’s camera was cushioned and safe.

 “Jake?”

 “Yes Natie.”

 “Don’t leave. I’m scared.”

 “Okay, sure.”

 Later that night, as Jake and I sat at the dining room table, I retraced everything we had done. We tried phantom writing, we tried EVP, Pictures, video and checked for temperature changes. We even kept a close check on the electromagnetic readings. I was exhausted and the hard chair was hurting my butt. I stood to give my tailbone a little relief, and my chair moved backwards of its own volition.

 “Jake! Did you see that?”

 Jake’s mouth was hanging open so I assumed he saw it too. “Yeah, I saw that.”

 A soft tapping started somewhere near the refrigerator which was behind Jake and across the room. The tapping grew louder and then cereal boxes,and a cake plate flew from the top of the refrigerator and across the room. I screamed and tackled Jake in his chair. One hand was full of Jake’s leather jacket, gripping just as his shoulder, while the other hand hugged him for protection. He pulled me off him and stood to face the clutter.

 “wow. I think we’ve started something.”
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Lil Red

Lil Red
My furry beast...
Welcome to Spiritwalker

www.PoetryPoem.com/sherrie



This sight represents my thoughts on what lies just beneath the surface of everything around us and our minds. A cosmic marriage of our selves with what is hidden underneath the surface of what is visible. Please feel free to use your imagination. NO further explanations are necessary.


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