Lost in the dark, tangled in silken threads.

The black widow before me begs to be fed.

Devious and cold, a demanding deadly trickster.

Resplendent and ravishing, but don't succumb to the whispers.

Haunting, yet refined. All attraction proves fatal.

Detrimental. Toxic. Endless warning labels.

I sift through the threads to see the fiend clearer,

Until my fingers strike glass. Alas! Only a mirror...

Lost in the dark, tangled in silken threads

     skeleton fingers of gnarled oak twist,

     leaving empty spaces between lunacy

     and distorted visions of obsidian darkness.

Mourning in cobalt skies of midnight hours

     forest becomes the enemy of old wounds,

     stones knead blisters on quivering feet -

     confusion of illusions in dress of doom.

Muted energy splinters along my trail

     unraveling nerves in soupy congealed mist,

     rough sands of time lingering in deep recesses.

Fist of night pummels in long reach of silence

     an eroding numbness fading into nothingness.

     hovering moon swirling over river edge illuminates,

     following the sunrise into spirit of new beginnings.

Lost in the dark, tangled in silken threads...

My heart ripped to ribbons, my soul torn to shreds...

With memories like landmines, with secrets that stain;

Nightdwellers are prone to turn pleasure to pain.

Pent up emotions become violent eruptions;

We reap what we sow, and I've sown my destruction.

Do you measure your worth based on someone's opinion?

Have you acted out thoughtlessly for someone's attention?

Is the child who adored you now full of suspicion?

Welcome to my world, we've been deemed Unforgiven.

The days that I find myself lost in the memories,

Become nights I spin reckless, too much restless energy.

I make the worst choices when the future seems bleak;

When the mirror taunts cruelly, when remorse leaves me weak.

I wanna feel good again, for tonight, for a moment.

Add to my list of sins needing atonement.

Have you suffered in silence to avoid confrontation?

Have you blown up your life giving in to temptation?

Was becoming his fall back plan your heart's ruination?

Was your redemption revoked while you sought sweet salvation?

Destination unknown, I am destined to wander...

Wasted again, like the potential squandered.

But what does it matter? It's my blood that's spilled.

What matters to me is that my empties get filled.

If I clear the bong, take it straight to the dome;

The empties will stop trying to burn down my home.

If I snort this line, or an 8ball or more;

Maybe they'll let me get off of the floor.

And if my empties get filled with a bottle of gin,

I'll savor the silence, till they start in again.

Blindly, running wildly, I'm ahead of the pain.

But I can't outrun that which flows through my veins.

The wind strokes my hair like a lover's caress;

Icy, cold fingers slip beneath my torn dress.

Afraid to look forward, afraid to look back...

I'm frozen in fear as I brace for attack.

I look up at the stars, at the moon seeking guidance;

The stars blink, the moon winks in hateful black silence.

Confirming a lesson I learned long ago;

I've got no one to save me, and nowhere to go.

If you've accepted more apologies than given permission...

If giving your heart inspires panicked apprehension...

If every choice hurts, when there's no good decision,

Well, the road to hell was paved with good intentions.

How long can I run when I'm destined to fall?

Karma's a bitch, and she catches us all.

I give up, I concede, I collapse on the ground.

I'll take what I get without making a sound.

The Darkness overtakes me, and the next thing I know,

I wake up in a strange place that isn't my home.

Now I'm slinking away with my head hung in shame.

Full of self-loathing, but I have no one to blame.

Despite my best efforts, I'm still aware and alive.

Each day, my Day of Reckoning; my curse to survive.

Lost in the dark, tangled in silken threads

Caressed by the warmth of the night

Staring out over a slumbering city

Far away in impossible thoughts

Until I hear the softness of your voice

And you...

Muted blue against the cream of the moon

Shimmering in the threatening darkness

A silhouette made of satin and lace

Shadows replaced by the light of your face

A trojan horse for seduction and tainted games

Midnight waterfalls cascade your frame

And your fingers indulge mine

As lips collide and ignite concealed sparks

Tongues entwined between erotic remarks

The urgency of your hands at my waist

Clothes discarded in our haste

Pink traces of passion stain my skin

Until I’m enveloped within

On your knees with your hands on your heels

Aesthetic impressions mixed with a tease

As oil slides and glistens on moonlight skin

Highlighting erotic outlines of us

Pisces in our demeanour

I’m intoxicated by the scent of you

Captivated on your taste

As stifled cries tell me you’re near

Your body more rigid, more impulsive

Sincere…

While traces of saliva connect me to you

Refusing to yield until you succumb

To the hot wet caress between your thighs

Your mouth on me with muffled sighs

Inching closer to our own addictions of sin

Trying to resist the inevitable

Until we become one

A body of tactile addictions

Alive with carnal lust

Overwhelmed with endorphins

As you trace the tip of me

Push me to the limit until I’m empty

Your body reciprocates as hips rise and fall

The silence broken with sounds of provocative release

The taste of you lingers on my tongue

Shared in a kiss witnessed by the blush of sun...

© Richard Withey. All rights reserved.

Lost in the dark

Tangled in silken threads

The mind screams out

To know what is real

And what is not

Suspended in disbelief

In the gossamer strands

Of reality's web

It hungers to feel

Not just the

Searing pain

Of loss

And confusion

But the cooling flow

Of nurturing love

And the stability of

Sanity

What am I

It screams

Is this all there is

I can no longer

Suffer the dark

I must know if I can

Break free of these

Enslaving threads

And enter the light

Of my own volition

Moving toward what

And who

I choose to be

#nightdwellers #beginningline #challenge #mentalhealth

Lost in the dark, tangled in silken threads,

Stained red by the blood I've bled,

Soaked by the tears I have shed;

Away from reality I have fled,

And look what's happened to me--I am dead.

Lost in the dark, tangled in silken threads,

I struggle against the life I've led;

How many, like me, have been misled,

How many casualties left unsaid?!

So here I am, I think I'm dead.

(sonnet VI)

Lost in the dark, tangled in silken threads,

A nightly nightmare for each shining strand.

Tying my hands and constricting my head.

Try to disperse with a wave of my hand.

The more that I flail, the thicker they seem,

Demons attacking my weak, crumbling mind.

Weak like the knees of my worn out old jeans,

Succumb to embrace my satin demise.

Sickly stained sprites stringing threads all about;

Without a doubt, I've invited them home.

They dance as they weave, encircling my throat,

Blind in the deluge, 'cross my soul they roam.

From silver threads a noose shall be fashioned.

I'll dance and dangle; death be impassioned.

Lost in the dark, tangled in silken threads. Comes forth a legend of dread and learning. Hidden long ago to prevent war and chaos of the worlds that were separated for centuries. It is now time for the worlds to come together once again to fight together against the new threat. 

The legend goes like this: 

One day, the separated worlds must join together,

The unknown threat will gather it's strength over the years,

Then they will attack all the worlds,

The worlds must combine their knowledge and strength in order to defeat the enemy,

That is the only way,

One person who has not yet experienced war from each world will meet,

Together they will bring together the separated worlds,

Only then can the war be won

Lost in the dark, tangled in silken threads, the moon appeared at noon today. And with its antithetical appearance casting confusion upon the streets below its amniotic atmosphere of blurry distention, an awakening began.

They were the ones nesting in shadows seated upon the ledge of an open window to an underbelly reality wading behind the coiffured static. The majority thought of them as background noise, a disruption, a runaway train.

But they were the transposed insurrection of new consciousness.

Because the new

Always has been

And the old

Has been reborn

With mass dialogue shared in new tongue, their alphabet was reflected by their DNA tapestry. They were jugglers of the right and left mind, balancing humanity with an expansive reach.

And their process was contagious, but only to those susceptible to what was said in the beginning, though not in the sense defined by The Static.