Darkness encroaches all over as you hurdle into the ball, far removed from any centre of the room. You close your eyes hoping that would fend off blackness, but it merely finds new form in your minds eye. You peer out of them in hopes of a refuge, a solitary pin prick of light that would help bring light to dark, but you know already that there is no hope.

Every breath you take seems to freeze your chest. No warmth can be gain from the air around you, as if the very darkness is ice making its deadly way to you. Shuddering, you release the air within you, feeling eve colder as it escapes your trembling lip. Mouth parched, tongue dry and sticking to the roof of your mouth, you try to swallow but to no avail. Each breath you take dries out your mouth even more, till all you feel is a fuzz all over and each breath becomes harder still.

You huddle to yourself even closer still, pulling your legs and arms together into a protective cocoon. Your very skin prickles with anticipation of the cold that will soon envelop you. Rubbing your hands over skin does little to bring warmth. You only feel the tiny bumps of skin from the goose flesh. You wonder if it will end soon, if peace and warmth will come back into your life, or will you just plunge into a never ending abyss anyway.

You know the time has come. You clench your eyes tighter, yourself harder. You try to prepare for the incoming onslaught as best you can, but you realize already that it is folly, that nothing can prepare you. Its icy fingers start caressing your naked skin, and u cringe inwardly. This is it, the finality of the situation hits you like a wave crashing ashore. Flashes of memories long gone surface to your mind, bringing but a brief respite to the horrors that await, and like everything, it to is gone. Just you and the blackness. You and the dark.

It takes its time. It toys with you, first caressing, then burning, then caressing all over again. It makes nothing simple, making even the simple act of breathing the most laborious thing possible. Then there is calm. The eye of the storm perhaps, where there is only silence before the final onslaught begins. You sit there waiting, preparing what meager defenses you have, yet nothing comes. A minute passes, two, yet still the final blow doesn’t arrive. Slowly, you open your eyes again, and you see a glimmer of light in the off. You pry your eyes wider, and realize that the day has broken, and that darkness has scurried off once again. Each breath fills you with warmth once again, but still peace escapes you, twilight being but a temporary companion till the master of despair returns to claim its prize. You.

Lying on my bed

Thinking of the possibilities

Of how it would be

Between you and me

You came into my life

It all seemed surreal

More so like a game well played

With you trapping me inside

Blasting music in my mind

Forming visuals of hope

Making me dance in wild fire

Although I’m chained down by reality

Should I say thank you

Or fuck you?

You created a storm before you leave

Leaving shit load of mess for me to clean

Screaming at myself

What a useless bitch I am

Clinging on to an imaginary host

That will never provide enough blood for this leech

‘Oh’ they say ‘pity that leech’

It can’t get a nice host who would share

‘Well’ I say ‘you can’t be comfy all your life’

I look up the sky and hope for a brighter star

To shine my way

To get the fuck out of this darkness

Sitting in the chapel alone
Listening to the father's preaches
On faithfulness and servitude
In this hallowed place he teaches 

"How a soul could become taint
With evil, so child we pray
To his merciful lord we ask
Deliverance to heaven away from pain

"Let His mighty grace of lords
Bless you in this consecrated hall
That you are free from wickedness
For His lord god listens to everyone's call"

As I lay in a casket of wood
Waiting for His embrace
Savouring the path to heaven's gates
Awaiting the end of my fate

I wade through the forest of broken twigs
Prowling through leaves and roots
Twisting and diving among snapped branches
Leaving a trail of blatant destruction

Through fern I trod and trample through
The greenery is lost to me
That stretch of moss I slip not fall
With pillars of wood around me

Beams of light burn through canopies
Illuminating a darken path of dirt
Stumbling over rocks and sloshing through mud
I reach my destination at last

Over the trees a grassy meadow of lilies
Over the hill a freedom just beginning
To leave behind everything that I know and love
To escape to a vision of new hope

When men would architech thier fate
Falling into a meticulous deisgn
To fuel their endless demands
Of ideas both malicious and blind

Into the black box of thinking
Baring sinister creations of men
For it is never empty of hate
But overflowing with corruption
Such is the act of men
Whose world now flails in anger
When ambitious men shall fall
High from thier pedestal

And a box of marbel white
Be made whole once more
Burried beneath the despoiled waste
Waiting to be opened
The white box will never open
For it is barely full
It's bottom is darken to the pit
Where conscience comes to meet

Deep and lost are men's thoughts
For ravaged fruit they bear
Not a flow of sanity can be born
All mechanization of good are rare

The sorrow of the wooden man
Whose heart is cold as stone
Whose reign of thyrany ends
With breaking of thousand bones
And the wish for conscience
Is mistaken for a blight
So furrow the brow in sorrow
As he falls down and wallows

Hence forth the dark knight
Rides out to meet the storm
To meet every foe and fight
Thus how evil was born
From the need for balance
Good and evil is spawned
Summoned from the malicious
Foul deeds froth to vicious

Let the wounded priest pray
That his sins are laid to rest
That God would not forsake him
His death be not a test
The sorrow of his past
Let laid to be a mask
A facade of mischivious deeds
In sowing faithless seeds

Now past the eclipsing moon
When darkness clouds judgement
Of sorrowful acts that befall
In the stygian gloom of doom
Perhaps a light shall illuminate
And harken a path for you
But weary not till the morrow
Or be lost in the shaddows of sorrow 

First off, it'll taste good.

And the sensation will
Take your mind off things.

Mixing drinks is yet another
Outlet for your creativity.

For the over-indulgers
It's a wonderful crutch.

For the social butterflies
You're never alone.

Instead of maiming squirrels
The anger is taken out on
Inanimate glass.

And at least you're living on the sauce
Instead of eating a bullet.

You can free your mind like the hippies did.

Business will keep running:
The 7/11 Stores, nightclubs, hospitals, even Double A.

And you'd be too busy making
Lame excuses to
Think up a list like this.