Ennui is a State of Mind

Just laugh it off, they always told me. It’s a stupid concept. True love? Soulmates? Relax, they always told me. They don’t exist. They’re just manufactured. Something to believe in for lack of a better choice.

So when the judgment day came, I figured that it wouldn’t be a bad time to ask if it was true or not.

So when the angel came for me, its glowing sword in hand, asking for a final request before I was redeemed, I had to ask: “Does true love exist?”

The angel, taken aback by my question, simply responded “Of course it does.”

“And then,” I continued, “what about soulmates? You know…people destined for each other.”

The angel was quiet for a moment. It looked at me solemnly, pensively.

It lowered its sword and came closer.

“Not everyone has a ‘soulmate,’ as you call it. But yes, this concept does exist.”

I swallowed. Nervously, I spoke again: “Then I have to ask if there was a soulmate for me. Before this world is over, that’s all I want to know.”

The angel, its radiant wings waving gracefully in the gentle winds of revelation, raised its sword and placed it on my shoulder.

“All in due time, my son. But now, be purged of your sin and evil. The rapture comes.” With this, the angel plunged its heavenly blade into my stomach, and I felt not pain but an immeasurable warmth. A light enveloped me, and my consciousness was lost.

When I next awoke, I was in the city. It was sparsely populated; few people walked the streets, but all had a look of determination and pleasure on their faces. In front of me, I saw a woman walking at about the same pace as I.

I ran ahead, and called out, “Excuse me, miss!”

The woman turned around, and in her face I saw that angel’s countenance. I was filled with a richness and warmth that did indeed match the same warmth of my reckoning.

She looked at me expectantly, smiled, and simply asked me, “Can I help you, sir?”

I held out my hand, nodded, and replied, “Yes. Hello, I love you.”

inspiration has struck. i’d be surprised if this play doesn’t get finished by the morning.

I have an idea for a play. For the first time in a very long time. I’m excited.

ennuipoetry:

Each night I dream—
I think I do—
of Elysian fields.
Of oceans blue.

And shattered is
my quaint repose,
by morning light
that subtly flows.

Sun’s taunting beams
burst through the panes,
and greet me for
the next day’s strains.

Each day I wake—
I think I do—
and leave those fields.
Those oceans blue.

I’ve made a writing blog, located at http://ennuipoetry.tumblr.com and if you are interested in seeing my writing you should go there! I’ll probably reblog some of it to my personal, but for just the writing, head on over and give it a follow!

can’t you see you’re tearing this family apart?

i’m sick and tired of being sick and tired,
of looking down the sights and being stabbed in the back.
when i hear the sounds of dripping water i just
want to leave the room, and not seal up the hole.
i could never fix the damage that’s already done,
and i don’t want to make the effort.

i can see the way you feel now, opening the way
and closing it just as quickly. i’d say you led me on
but the only person leading anyone on was me.

i led myself on, and maybe that’s just enough to
kick me in the pants and let it go.

sometimes you just need an outlet, and
i’ll be damned if i don’t. here is my outlet,
here is my absolution. cry, write, read, learn.

and sometimes, it’s just better to leave it alone.
i’m learning now. i won’t make those mistakes again.

Waves crash silent on the shoreline
bringing home that distant song
of love and loss and empty faces;
who’s done right and who’s done wrong.

An open window calls to me,
its gentle breeze on which I dwell.
The light outside is bright and dazzling.
From the sky an old star fell.

And in that star I saw your eyes
a cosmic void in which I gazed.
A nebula of comfort, warmth,
and sadness kept me. There I stayed.

Don’t you see what I can see?
The careful mind you hide inside
has opened here, at once, at last.
The love I feel inside me now
will blossom further even still,
I hope I never feel it pass.

As the sun began to rise
I knew the colors soon would dim.
I took you, star, back to my home
so that you’d never lose your vim.

I took you, star, back to my home
so that you’d never lose your vim.
I hope to always hold you here,
and sing to you a lovely hymn.

Your starlit eyes enraptured me,
so much so I would never leave.
So much so I would never leave.

Flowers dying, fading fast in winter under snow
a petal born of ice and strife will take one final blow

And in the distance songs will play of dismal day or night
a bitter twilight symphony that fills their hearts with fright.

A waking wind that carries on it balance and a song
a time long past that they all know will never last too long.

The hues of red and yellow seen in sunlight fading fast
will teach the dying flowers that they were not built to last. 

I wasn’t born under a lucky star

the sun never shined on me

black clouds were my deliverence

night approaches this calm silence

break the dawn with open arms

fall into an embrace

of molten love and tension

that melts your shattered mind

ride the wind back home

serpents in the sky

clouds will warn you of the days

coming, passing by

wouldn’t you just like to wait

slow down, slow down

stop

and strike back again

it’s not the way you look

or the way you feel

that drives the world back

to a primal home

ride the wind back home

serpents in the sky

clouds will warn you of the days

coming, passing by