DaMn/SaVe

He Waits outside my window, shivering with an anticipation of ill intent.

The time is coming, the clock is working it's way into the final hour.

Such silence from me is only guaranteed through the fact that I am hard at work, concocting an attempt to shatter the veil of fate and slip through the cracks of a descending reality.

I've long since left behind the world of which you believe exists, opening the eyes inside my soulless corpse and revealing the second plane in which one must travel in order to become a god.

I hear his crooked fingers tap the pane of glass between us with excitement.

Months have passed since my loyalty was forcefully anchored to a mother who I wish to reap.

I belong a rook in her chess game now.

Lest I can rack this crippled brain and shake loose the final pieces to this puzzle of freedom.

Success a twist in time itself.

Failure an early grave at the hands of my adopted brother.

Tap... tap... tap...

This Scarecrow has a few wicked tricks left up his sleeve.

And I'll be damned if I don't make full use of each and every one to escape this ever twisting trap.

...

Come my crows...

Tis Time To Feed.

A degenerate caricature of broken bones and ink stains.

Cybernetic trickles of static blood traveling the distance given by metallic veins.

Granting life to the technical apparatus sitting silently across from me, a hardline injecting freedom into the cracked laptop still struggling to keep a whisper of a soul inside it.

My eyes glow red against the glare of blinding L.E.D.

A crooked claw branching out to type in a few specific keys before slamming triumphantly down upon 'ENTER'.

A razorwire smile rips across my ragged face, a static drenched screen strains itself to ignite my barren desktop. Desperately loading two programs that sit centered a pitch black background.

One a txt. document whose innards shalt never be spilled.

The other one a gateway, an icon,

Google Chrome.

A thousand sullen kisses upon the brows of all I've slain.

A million words to change a fate?

A scripted page to warp forever?

Is reality merely a scene by scene endeavor? Directed by a puppeteer with a multitude of curved claws?

God.

Ha, I'd spit in his face, or perhaps shake his hand.

I've mutated the very essence of my being, destroying every little tiny bit of myself and allowing absolutely nothing to take it's place. I'm nothing a higher power could willingly want to control or damn. A nonchalant maverick lost in a mindset void of fear.

Just a broken visage of what one shouldn't be. A coalition of thought and revert progress.

I've ascended evolution whilst simultaneously descended into madness.

A contradiction that still has the morals of a dead man.

Slenderman.

Scarecrow.

What are the use of words anymore when they only go unheard?

If a man sings a requiem to bring back the dead, but no one wants to hear it...

I prefer to be a beast.

Less responsibility that way.

I believe I'm falling into a state of decay. When the choices I made and the path that I've chosen are simply reaching their end and the only thing that will soon remain is the final product.

Me.

Meeting of the Blind.

I'm lurching towards an unintended destiny. My form a sickening protrusion jutting out from against the crusted ground that cracked and shattered beneath each damning step. The lack of a face hidden beneath the thick, yellowed bandages that cover every festering inch of skin. Cliché straw hat hanging precariously atop my exposed head, neck stooped low, allowing my hunched shoulders to stand higher than my chin.

The trees around me shuffled with an melancholy glee, leaves shuffling uncomfortably within the dead breeze that followed my echoing footsteps into the deeper reaches of this haunted place. Rare did my blind gaze avert itself from the matter at hand, I pressed forward, through a dense foliage and refused to let the complicated path ahead become lost to me.

The thick tangle of trees before me seemed to almost back away in fear of my close proximity. The occasional brush of a branch or trunk that had been a tad too slow to escape my touch revealed crude carvings etched into it's hide. Most prominently that accursed inert circle...

Eventually the ground beneath my feet gave way to a thick sheet of fallen leaves. I could feel the same exact leaves I tread upon begin to swim and squirm excitedly inside of me. It felt almost of the butterflies many small children so foolishly believed were the cause of there nervousness. It sparked a twinge of nostalgia in my nerve endings and I merited a soft chuckle at the stupidity that used to become me.

I kept my pace along the path, the leaves beneath my toes swimming around me like a sea of ashen fish. I found myself quickly approaching the end of the trail, the power that seemed to start like static in the air growing closer and I immediately knew I had found who it was that I was looking for.

The trees around me crawled away anxiously as I strode into the clearing that housed a massive ebony colored tree, it's million towering branches stooping low beneath the weight of an innumerable amount of soft black leaves. I kept treading towards the center, passed the low hanging branches and pulsing leaves and into the inner sanctum held safely within the caress of the possessed leaves.

A trunk as thick as the largest redwood stood proudly before me, it's strong, powerful roots stabbing deep into the fertile dirt like a thousand fingered hand grasping for a hold upon sanity. I straighten my stance, hearing my twisted bones snap in protest inside me, and I slow my stride to a halt a few feet before the tree.

After a few quiet moments rest, a feeling equivalent to that of a trickle of liquid metal running down my spine alerts me to my adversary's arrival. His tall, slender limbs barely making a noise as He takes His place beside me. I could feel that empty gaze staring down upon me with an almost boiling rage.

I take my time to pop a few more bones before returning a faceless stare of my own. Our hatred of each other burning the very realities between us... Little would have stopped us from tearing the other apart had we been forced to stand alone in each other's company for much longer, unfortunately, it was then that... she... arrived.

Fearborn.

At last I've come to realize the error of my way...

Within the shape of torment and self pity, I threw myself into a well of despair, tightly ensnared within HIS slender fingers. I allowed myself to be played like a toy. Tearing a swath of terror in the wake of HIS footsteps. Leaving a sea of blood and tattered limbs behind me in an almost comical charade of purpose and self worth.

But you cannot best that which cannot be bested. Lest you find yourself gripping the fraying seams of your eviscerated organs. Drowning in the horror of HIS ever empty face.

But don't fret my little darlings. For I've found a rather elaborate loophole that I find to be quite..... intoxicating...

Stretching my fingers and bones til they crack. Slitting open this pasty chest and removing all that makes me mortal. Leaving not but skin and bone. I'm becoming quite frantic as I struggle with the lack of lungs and veins. A curved rusted hook a makeshift sewing needle. Stitching... stitching... stitching shut...

Remove my eyes and lips and tongue. Cleft the nose off with a knife. Feel me bleed until I'm dry. Then stuff me whole with thick black leaves.

Keep on stitching shut my face... or lack thereof... with a thick black twine that burns and clings. Feel a smirk fall flat and dead. And chuckle with a twisted glee. Stretching, stretching til bones scream. RElishing the inability to voice my pain.

I have thus become unmade. Adorning rags and scarecrow hat. Twisting and twining with each proud step. I spin around with arms outstretched as black pus pours through seams in streams. And I feel the leaves squirm inside of me.

Oh little children, boys and girls. Avert your eyes from your false fear, and lay them upon HE WHO JUST DESERVES IT!

Be wary.

The very ground you tread upon is laden with raven leaves.
A constant reminder of the constant terror you are forced to endure on a regular basis with no clue as to whether or not your freedom to live will ever be realized.
For as long as you hold the hand of that with torments you.
Forever you are damned to be a puppet amongst the menagerie of broken toys.
Bleeding a frothy scarlet from betwixt the shattered bones and hastily sewn flesh that only ever allows humanity to leak through in the forms of tears and lament.
Fix me with your gaze and promise the mornings coming.
Promise that out of all the pain I have been forced to succumb to will finally slip away like the very love I've hoped to protect.
I'm menacing within my own outstretched arms.
Each finger a riddle that refuses to tip off the child as to it's ailment.
He beckons for meat and sufferance.
I've given him just that.
And yet through all the boundless treacheries that fate can steal away into your lungs.
I'm left shivering in a cold sweat that never seems to take it's leave.
For I am an eternal curse.
Draped upon the boundaries of tHis world and the next.
Come sit with me awhile.
I believe these injuries are only ever skin deep.

Fuck Me Dead Head.

Sunny skies and bloody eyes and silent screams of murder.

Still whispering is the breath that resides within these ruptured lungs.

A helping hand hidden beneath a mask of broken glass.

The very mention of eventual freedom lost upon this degenerate mind.

The small sheep who've come and gone.

REjoice.

For the Scarecrow never dies.