aphonic

The Man in Black never dies, and has no lost loves or ones to mourn as he crawls, through the graveyard of sand, past the bleeding, or pained, moon. The lightening falls near the Man in Black, and thunder follows his every move. But he never dies. The endless desert and the crosses of none, nothing, but everything matters to him. Through the pelting rain and the blood washing away, the Man in Black carries himself further, never relenting, always chasing his prey through life. The Man in Black never dies.

Laying down, on starvation, against her horrid table with those demigods watching, lost in the saving graces. Lie awake, think of all the worries, following you to the pit, where the slaughtered roam, and the memories and, the thoughts cannot be obtained. Decaying knives stab in, taunting you with hunger in a foreboding hell. Sacred spells, forestall the death, delighted in this guise, of ancient deities who rule, and banish ones, to the dark region of the dead. Every direction, every precaution, cannot elude the punishment with the venom, dripping down, causing the cries of the slain, to hide beneath the shadow of the su

Broken glass lying under fallen leaves, shining slightly in the bed of orange, dying and changing, with each breath that the wind takes, stolen from the tree- now bare and naked, freezing as the autumn strips the tree more. Leaves race across the sidewalk, chasing the summer as it runs away, singing the only song they know with that crinkling laughter all around. Shattered pieces fall away, into the mud that tempted those leaves to jump in to follow that window of once-upon-a-time and trapping those guillible leaves. Snowflakes fall as the leaves wither, no longer the brilliant colors of fure but sharing the mud for a face as

Those dreams, once lied, now true With barely a whisper of anything but pain What I thought, may not be And loved you once but hate turns He wish me dead, along with you And I... wish me dead too

As you look into that rusty old mirror You can see every mistake you have made That relfection of you is here and there Lying about that saviour to you aid Misplaced scars from your past threaten your life And force you to remember what you failed As you fight that addiction to the knife Believing your future will be derailed Silent cries and scars that bleed they ignore Before the shattered mirror, watching you weep And you wish to be everything adored Risking your life as you fall in too deep Battling for everyone to approve Of all those illusions you wish to remove

I wonder if anyone has thought about me. In more than just the normal 'oh, who is she' way. These part few days, thinking about how many (or how little) friends I have left, I started to think, I really do need somebody there who will wonder about me. And I tried to think about who that person could be and I couldn't think of one single person. How sad is that when all you want to do is be next to someone or just imagine you are next to someone and it's blank? But why should there be someone there? There is nothing special about me even though I have written many things like this to prove that there is something. I am just a sixteen year o

Chapter One: Introductions of Nothing Hikari looked around the Digital World. She needed some time to think before returning to Japan. She hadn't seen anyone for so long, besides the dying population of the Other World. "Hikari?" a familiar voice asked from behind. She turned around to see her brother. His face was full of surprise and puzzlement. "Why are you here?" Hikari tried to think of an answer but she couldn't lie to Taichi, "I left the Other World because almost everyone is dead. Kurumi, Takeru, and I stayed there to try to stop the man in black from killing the survivors but his work is done. They're all dead." "I don't understa

There's a monster in my closet, hiding in the shadows with his blood-stained claws, waiting for me to enter. That monster is watching me, just praying for the light to flicker to pull me into the closet and tear the flesh from my bones. The monster laughs in the dark as I fight to stay in the light but nobody can see the monster- (he is invisible in the light)- hiding inside of my closet and they won't believe me about the monster in my closet. There's a monster in my closet and he wants to take me away into that grotesque world of his- filled with the smell of decay from the children he has killed. The monster stares out

She was a gypsy girl, traveling around to all of those poorhouses looking for somebody to love her but all she has ever known is loneliness and her vagabond ways (oh yes, those ways) She was a gypsy girl, singing along to that music that never stops playing as she walks that empty road without one word to anyone passing by and her vagabond ways (not only that) She was a gypsy girl, lost and alone through those not-so-endless nights and she is just a throwback to those old times when you believed and her vagabond ways (not quite) She was a gypsy girl, sensual no more as she dreamed of those better days that never seem to come

the boy trudge on through the listless air that can't be air at all with its squeezing and choking hands and the sharp fangs searching for blood but he continued, knowing all who died but not even that at all and he couldn't see through that green sea sinking down and crowding at his feet pulling him down to his very own grave just not his at all he knows he has to go on for himself and for everyone who has died behind him laying on the blood-covered dirt, all alone but that isn't at all and the boy continued to trudge on