Hades Heart

What words could melt my hades' heart,
what words could bring release.
He does not let me leave this hell
and my love; it starts to cease.

Through happy times I've blurted love,
only for my love to be left unopened;
I've let it fester, never to enter,
The steel that can't be broken.

I've tried to keep it to myself
but his rejection keeps me wishing,
yet every time I unleash my love,
Hades' warmth is always missing

And loving Hades' with all my heart, 
in the darkness of his den,
has made me question everything,
and how can love grow then?

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There are those that use their eyes to mirror their souls, and the latter to use it on occasion to seek the soul of the person who hast stirred their curiosity.

and what if i was to keep the use of mine as a medium of constant observation?

That no revelation could be had through the curiosity of others,

as i was always the searcher, and never the pool of thoughts that one could simply dip their hand in and retrieve the hearts murmurs.

I cannot think of one instance where someone has seen inside my heart.

If i were to leave it on my sleeve, vulnerable in the blackness of a pupil,

it would surely grow cold and wither in these mediocre conditions.

How can the average hearts that surround me, steadily beating within sleeves of frail cotton look into a heart buried so deep?

I can only presume that the love I feel should be kept within myself.

I love as if I loved with all my heart, a person in a last life which I never have to grieve.

A love so protected, no knife or daggered eyes could pluck it out.

These eyes have been on constant watch,

as if they were the everlasting ripple in the water of a hidden well,

and my heart, hidden at the bottom, could not be seen under such furious waters.

And if this water were to glass and mirror, and my heart be seen,

I think it should shatter to a million pieces.

Next Page

I keep doing this thing where I test fate.. I'll do things like not wear a seatbelt on a bus, putting my life in the hands of strangers. It's sort of like taunting whatever may be out there, just trying to give them a reason to teach me a lesson. I just don't understand it all. I know no one does, but I just think about the fact that I don't more than I should. More than the recommended daily allowance anyway. I keep looking at myself in the mirror. Seeing myself the way other people see me scares the living shit out of me. I'm just all skin and hair, I can't even form emotions properly on my face anymore because they've been so thwarted with all the thought thats gone into each of them. I look at pictures of myself when I was young, and I see this really genuine smile, and I have no idea how to recreate it. It should be the most natural thing in the world, and the more I want it, the further away it seems to get. It's like not having the tickles. No matter who tries to tickle me, in any place, I just don't laugh. It's supposed to be instinctive but nothing ever happens. My unconscious state of mind has just transformed into this robot that generates stream after stream of pointless thoughts and observations. I see people from this place I don't understand, and they're just in this vacuum packed loop styled in a figure 8 so it just keeps going round and round, and I'm trapped in this revolving door and I see the same things over and over again, and I keep doing it, because it's life, and you can't not live, unless you don't. It all boils down to that, you are, or you're not.

First Page

I used to have an empty outlook on an average life. Everything was invincible and safe as I was not gone and would not be until I no longer existed. I think that added to the boredom, It was never going to stop until I did.
Everything reeked of mediocrity. The people, the 9 - 5 life.
Every day i had the image of life, resembling a flat-line, green and monotonous, powering through everything. There was no skipping of heartbeats, no shuddering, shaking, shivering or yelping. No flicker of life like there were no flickers of smiles from my mouth.
Just a faint dull trace of hope, guiding my blindly like an auto-pilot through a clear blue sky. With nothing to distract me or inhibit me, just flying through the air to the time of a ticking clock.
The sunrises and sunsets were as unimpressive as the Grey mist that clouded my mind.
I felt like i would be flying on this flatline silently until i reached an unequivical end, and ammmounted to absolutely nothing. When I say used to, I meant I still do. I tried to start out on a depressing note and then unleash a wave of positivity and plenty of glasses half full, but I can't bring myself to do it.