The Four Horsemen

The Four Horsemen

As he lie down to sleep,
Out of the dark, did they creep.
The four creatures ever so grim,
Born of the darkness that was inside him.

First came Grief,
A surge of white-hot pain.
Then came Anger,
Red-faced and vain.
Soon followed Guilt,
Black clouds of dismal gale.
And finally Regret,
Turning everything grim and pale.

White, Red, Black and Pale they came,
As the Holy Book did name,
Rising from the abyss,
The Four Horsemen, the heralds,
Of his own personal Apocalypse.

First Meeting

First Meeting

They stood a few yards apart.
Facing each other.
Widest grins plastered on their faces.
Few moments passed by, neither moving.
Then she ran into his arms.
They hugged, they kissed.
Two parts of a single soul united at last.
This scene of their first meeting,
Which never happened,
Played for the millionth time in his head.

Down the Road

Down the Road

Down the road lined by trees,
He walked.
Behind him lies the world,
His world.

Down the road that disappeared into horizon,
He walked.
Where was the road taking him?
He asked himself.

Away from the world he lost.
Away from the broken promises,
The uncovered lies,
Abandoned masks,
The myth of love.
A world of pain and loss.

Down the road to oblivion, he walked.
He did not weep.
He did not complain.
He did not curse.
He just walked.


An excerpt from George R.R. Martin’s The Second Kind of Loneliness

“And then there is the second kind of loneliness.

You don’t need the Cerberus Star Ring for that kind. You can find it anywhere on Earth. I know. I did. I found it everywhere I went, in everything I did.

It’s the loneliness of people trapped within themselves. The loneliness of people who have said the wrong thing so often that they don’t have the courage to say anything anymore.

The loneliness, not of distance, but of fear. Continue reading “Fading Away”