Little Boy

I didn’t see him today
The little boy in the corner
The sad one
The angry one
The one that judges me
Taunting my every decision
Madness in my mind
If he’s real why can no one see him
But then I never saw him today
I hope he comes back tomorrow
There’s insecurity when he’s not here

Copyright: authorchrisbrown

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Just a Question

What is it to live these days?
I spend most of my time locked up doing the things that pays for the box I’m locked in.
And to make box more aesthetically pleasing, costs more money, and so spend more time working to afford the things I have no time to admire.
The friends I’ve made have become nothing more than recognisable text on a screen, that offer a worded “hello” or an emoji, that it becomes weird and awkward speaking, let alone seeing them in person.
My mind feels starved of stimulus, instead taking on board garbage from the television or radio, until my sanity snaps and I reach for yet another book.
Dark nights draw in early, weather’s still cold, and a warm duvet is often a welcome respite from the monotony of the day.
I miss laughter, the sound of pointless banter. I miss being sociable and getting together with like minded folk to discuss things of interest.
I miss hugs and I miss kisses.
Living alone, even with creature comforts of life, is lonely, ever so lonely.
So I ask again, what is it to live these days?

Copyright: authorchrisbrown

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A dark story of history repeating

A male child, born with no given name, to a mother than cried heavily at the mere sight of him. He was forever a contanst reminder of his father that forcefully planted his seed within her virgin womb before disappearing into the depths of night, leaving her shivering and broken. What chance did this child have when even his mother found the sight of him abhorrent? She couldnt love and nourish him, and so he found himself abandoned to the mercy of whoever could.

He was named Samuel by the elderly woman that would call herself mother, though he refused to accept either. He fought her love, rebelled against the sanctuary of homeliness she’d created for him. The years of his growing were a constant struggle, and yet she refused to abandon him as his mother had. Even when his school refused to educate him she stayed at home in order to school him.

He resented and despised her, and yet with each passing year an infatuation grew within him. There was something within his DNA that compelled him to obsess over being around her at inappropriate times. He would spy through the keyhole as she undressed, and yet would refuse to join her at the table come tea time.

It was upon a random evening late in the year, rain lashing down upon the panes of glass and the occasional flash of lightening illuminating the otherwise dimly candle lit room that he appeared before her as she was in a state of undress.

Instinctively she cowered away, covering any exposed flesh from his unblinking eyes, and yet he reached out and pulled at her night blouse. As she fought his advances, sharp nails scratched her breasts drawing crimson lines across them. Crying in shock and pain she could do nothing as he exposed them, his hands gripping tightly the area directly around the nipple.

As the tears rolled heavily from her heartbroken eyes, and her requests for him to stop went ignored, he forcefully pushed her backwards onto the bed. She knew what was coming next, and yet was unable to stop it. Pain soared through her body as he entered her. Emotionless he satisfied himself within her as she sobbed uncontrollably, her clothes torn and blood flowing from the wounds received as reward for her attempting to resist.

He said nothing as he left. A dark figure disappearing into the depths of night, leaving behind a broken elderly woman whose womb began preparing for the unwanted gift she’d been given.

Copyright: authorchrisbrown

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When

When your fears turns to tears, and dreams crumble into decaying debris.

When salvation becomes the barrel of a loaded gun and you drink your poison to numb the pain.

When every fibre of you soul is manipulated like a marionette’s strings, pushed and pulled beyond you will.

When a heart doesn’t break, but it cracks and shatters into millions of pieces lifting into the night sky to join the stars.

When the words have been spoken and all feelings gone.

That is when it’s the end.

Copyright: authorchrisbrown

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Finding Reason

‘Understanding’

To my left stands an Angel tending to my tears. “What did you do?” she asks soothingly.

On my right a Devil. “It’s not your fault!” he says rubbing my shoulder with his talloned hand.

Like an island isolated by a maddening sea, I stand resolute understanding their words, yet let them fall upon my ear, waves upon a rocky shore.

Copyright: authorchrisbrown

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Remembered

Upon your leaving,

A distinctive shape of you,

Remained gaping as you left my heart.

Time heals

Makes you forget

Then a passing figure

A glimmer of remembrance

Eyes that pulled me in

Distance parts you

Out of sight out of mind

But I remembered you

A twinge in my rebuilt heart

You walk away

Leaving me a ghost to my emotions

Copyright: authorchrisbrown

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Trapped

I feel the hurt portrayed in your eyes
The spiralling descent into nothingness
An abyss of depression
The fight lost
Over as exhaustion consumes you

The rut you were once in widens
Looking up from a chasm of constant similarity
Everything’s the same
The wheel of time turning
Fragments of yourself trodden underfoot

There is no anger to consume you
The fires of emotion extinguished long ago
An empty shell
Meandering along
Trapped like a slave to a life confined

Copyright: authorchrisbrown

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I’m done

I need to make them stop,

The voices and the visions,

I’m going deaf as well as blind,

Yet I cannot shake them.

So I call time,

Close the doors.

Perhaps when I stop listening,

Stop paying attention to them,

They will leave me alone to focus,

Because for now……..I’m done.

Copyright: authorchrisbrown

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Competition Entry #3

Darkest Fear

“There are some relationships that are worth lying for.”

That’s exactly what Grace had been doing for the past two years, lying to the man of her dreams, her soul mate.

It was only six months until the wedding and she’d still not had the courage to sit down and tell him the truth about why she hadn’t yet fallen pregnant, despite actively trying almost every night.

The very thought of being the size of a beached whale, stretch marks and swollen ankles frightened her. More so than any horror movie. Then there’s children themselves. Little dependent wrinkly crying breast sucking Satans. They were not much better getting older.

Could, or would, Grace face her fears for the sake of her relationship? Or would she let the man of her dreams walk away for fear of ruining her vagina?

Copyright: authorchrisbrown

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