Die Writing

The goblin poet

Posted in Uncategorized by erdaron on January 25, 2012


This song, it has me and it kills me.


The goblin poet’s words reached out gently to every ear. His lips caressed his future admirers across the room. His hands seductively measured out their shoulders even as the stage separated them. A cloak shrouded him. All that was present of him was the innocuous fabric and the honey voice. The sound wrapped the women in a warm glow of fresh love and turned them back into young and foolish girls. It was not the lyrics of his spoken-word songs that drew them to the spider’s web. The words were as a mask, concealing the power of his poems, the unstoppable force of his voice.

This goblin poet, this vile vampire spoke with confidence and foreknowledge that at the end of the night, in the welcoming shadows of the theater’s wings, he could brush by one of these women and she would be completely, abjectly his. By then, his disfigured self would no longer matter. The mere touch of his hand would send shockwaves of scorching fires through the woman’s heart. She would forget her plans, her friends, her husband… give herself utterly to this creature without regret or reservation.

The trysts were not conquests. To feast with abandon on their beauty was not a prize. To the goblin poet, this was the poem. The woman’s sighs, the aching lips, the scattered hair – they spoke more beautifully and more potently than he could ever dream. Yet in the end, he knew that though this was given to him – completely and freely – these hearts were never his to keep. These bodies and souls were given to not him, but to his poems, to the specters summoned by his words. The goblin poet himself was merely present to accept the sacrifice.

This would always  drive him out of the bed before the sun would rise. He would dive back into the night, the anonymity of empty streets, cloaks, and the horrifying physique. The goblin poet would leave to mix his tears with the bitter drink of a lonely and abandoned man.


Everywhere, all over everything

Posted in Uncategorized by erdaron on January 24, 2012

She was gone, long gone, and yet he had to constantly reassure himself of this. She was still here. Her words and looks piled up around the small apartment. It was hard to make so much as a step without getting stuck in the swish of her dress. She’s cried here a couple of times. She wrapped herself in a blanket in that armchair. Once, she leaned on that chair and stared out the window for what seemed like hours… Her absence has become delirious and unreal.

He tried to hide it, cover it up. He bought more furniture to fill the space, the squeeze out her air, but the new couches simply floated on the mellow waves of her fragrance. The painting was supposed to cover up the invisible drops of her passion sweat on the wall. Instead, the drops fused with the painting, and now whenever he looked at it, he felt her hand grasping the back of his neck. Sometimes other people would come over and talk, but it was hard to hear them over her voice, her stories and her jokes still permeating every breath in the room.

He would stand, alone in the dark apartment, and try to reach out across time, across the sheets of time that made no sense. She must be near he thought, even though she had departed his reality in a manner final and ultimate, she is near, he would think. Such were those moments, so filled with with every last unburned piece of his heart, that perhaps the reality did reverse itself for briefs instants now and then. Perhaps the warmth he felt on his skin really was hers, emanating across the universe in utter contradiction to the universe itself.

A circus dream

Posted in Uncategorized by erdaron on January 11, 2012

I had a dream the other night. It was such a fantastic dream.

There was a great darkness, and flashes of light that sparked against that darkness. The sinister shadows flowed from every crack, flooded the sky. Yet the sparks refused to yield. They held on and blistered the night around them.

I saw a man and a woman on a wire as they walked precarious toward heaven. Great winds and thunderclouds tore at them, but they could not be shaken.

I saw a monster cry over its lover as she drew her last breath in its arms.

And then I saw a brave little mouse draw its sword against a mighty dragon.

It was such a fantastic dream. But it left me so very sad.