Lost

Something hurts inside
When you’re lost and can’t be found
You feel so disconnected
From every sight and every sound

No place to call your home
As there’s nowhere for your heart
So you endlessly keep walking
Getting further from the start

Tears they fall around you
Like heavy rain on the blackest day
And the scars you cannot see
Will within you always stay

To this life of shattered dreams
You’ll be forever eternally bound
Because it hurts a little more
Each day you’re lost and can’t be found

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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Emotions

Emotions are strong things. We act blindly at times because of them, through hurt and pain, sadness and anger. Sometimes though, through these strong feelings of emotion, a poet will create some of his best work.

A pile of stinking putrid filth
A gut wrenching
Vomit inducing
Stench of decaying hopes and dreams
Tortured helpless minds
Ripped out souls
And empty shells
Zombies to emotions of once they felt
Limp and lifeless forms
Meandering
Stumbling through the cesspit of life
Let me join you brothers
The legion of damned
The unloved
Slaves to abandonment and eternal loss
As I say “Good luck you all!”
The lovers
Romantics
And all of those that harbour hope
For love is death upon it’s end
Rips out your soul
Rots your heart
And leaves you broken to the core

Copyright: authorchrisbrown

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Getting back into things

I wanted to write a little piece, just to see if anything would form in this supposed creative mind of mine, see if I was still able to make words flow and ebb like calm gentle waters over the minds of those reading.

I call this ‘Drifting into Seperation’

Two ships under a crescent moon, slowly parting upon opposing tides. Communications languish, until eventually all connections are terminally disconnected. Relationship ebbing away, like water through open fingers. Tears become now your passengers, and all your smiles have abandoned ship.

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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Saying Goodbye – contains Spoiler

It’s been a while, but back at it:

Jax tethered his horse outside the rather plain, yet exceptionally clean, Temple of Lyra. Where as all the other buildings within Blucester portrayed their age, with crumbling stonework, or patched up woodwork, the temple looked better now than the day it was built. Whilst it would never win any awards for its aesthetic design, it was certainly loved and cared for devotedly by those that found salvation there.

A muted yellow glow eminated from behind the two solid oak doors that were set open. A hint of juniper hung in the air, most likely from the incense burning within. Jax slowly walked to the back of his horse so as to lift the rolled up blanket into his arms. His heart was heavy, and though he’d been fearing this moment, he knew he owed it to his fleeting love, Yulien, a disciples burial.

“What burdens you traveller?” enquired a middle age man, seemingly standing sentry between the two doors.

As Jax approached the man’s gaze became fixed upon the rolled blanket, his furrowed brow deepening with curiosity the longer his question went unanswered.

“I ask you again traveller, what carry you to the doors of our temple?” Shifting his left leg, his stance became more defensive whist his hand hovered over the hilt of previously unseen mace. Still Jax advanced, until he met with the outstretched hand holding the cold steel of the guards weapon but inches from his face. “Stop and declare your purpose!”

Lifting his head, sorrow and heartache portrayed unashamedly within his eyes, Jax stared intently at the guard. “She warrants a disciples burial.”

“That is a matter for the clerics to decide,” stated the guard lowering his mace. “I will see if any are available to offer you audience. Please, wait here.”

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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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Punishment NSFW +18

Laid over my knee

Naked once soft white skin

Now red with handprint scars

Punishment for brattish behaviour

Tears cascading from pain felt eyes

Playing my emotions?

Large hands easing the pain

Firm powerful strokes across each cheek

A gentle writhing to guide my hand

Urging to be felt in places pleasuring

My hand falls heavy again

The imprint left in white

Upon her once again reddening skin.

Copyright: authorchrisbrown

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