Orange Sky

 

It sucks being a writer sometimes. You could think of a hundred different plots and not be satisfied with any of them. The hardest thing about writing a novel is finding something you enjoy writing about, and be willing to further work and elaborate on. Lately I find myself interested in Crime Dramas, because of the raw emotion and realness they portray. I’ve never written anything longer than 10 pages, so I won’t be hypersensitive to any criticism I receive. 

Lately I’ve been brainstorming ideas for plots and characters and I finally devised a quality story line that I can put my heart and mind into, here is a ‘dense sample’ of the opening.

I sensed a turbulent essence the moment I arrived into town, the endemic aura was too strong to neglect. The extreme heat and dense air pounded my face relentlessly. I looked up at the sky and it was coated in orange, layered with undertones of black, red, and yellow. It was like a mushroom cloud radiating through the sky, disposing of all the blue in its way as it took over. In that moment everything seemed unnatural, like something extraordinarily terrifying was about to take place. For a moment I debated turning back around and getting far away from this place, but as an atheist I have little faith in anything. I convinced myself to disregard that feeling because of how far fetched that idea seemed. Little did I know that disregarding this warning would be the biggest mistake of my life.

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Reasons…

So I knew sooner or later that I would start getting questions about the whole title and set up of this blog, and why I use the name “MidnightWolf”, so let me explain. It isn’t me trying to hide or being afraid of something. I try not to make this blog completely about myself. I don’t want my face to be remembered as I want my words and posts to be remembered, I prefer substance over imagery. I also like the sleek and kinda mysterious feel of the blog, I think it suits me a little bit. Someday I’ll probably upload a photo of myself, but for now there’s no point, why change something that seems to be going so well, and is augmenting each and every day.

Vermillion (Poem)

I’ve been listening to Vermillion Pt. 2 by Slipknot lately, and one day I was just inspired to write a poem based off of it. Hope you guys enjoy it.

She sleeps in white but dreams in black
Stepping on grass and shards of shattered glass
He sky is faded and void of color
Her dreams are filled with her vanished lover

Her once pure dress is covered in dirt
The one that she has worn since birth
It flaps in the wind she doesn’t feel
She lives in a world that isn’t real

She sings the song that nobody else sings
Wraps the gifts that no one else needs
She keeps everything locked up inside herself
She’s the victim that nobody tries to help

It’s spring but she feels colder than winter
She is a deep and hidden splinter
Stuck inside of me that I can get out
She’s silent even when she wants to shout

Plastic (Poem)

I feel like I’m made of plastic
Sewn together by strings of anger and pain
And tied up by a tight elastic
That attempts to keep me sane

It just pains me this is how I’m living
Like a shattered man on a sinking ship
This car of pain is tired of being driven
And I’m too weak to tighten my grip

I’m starting to accept this depression
And that’s the thing that scares me the most
I’m too broken to give a good impression
Dead enough inside to be a ghost

I hold the shattered vase of my life
Wondering when did it break
I stare on the table at this sharpened knife
Wondering how much life there’s even left to take

The Man in Black (Poem)

I’ve really been getting into writing poems lately, and I just thought I’d share one of my first’s.

The man in black just trudges along
Forever walking down the haunting road
Wishing that he could finish his song
But his soul is just too cold

The man in black walks by the crooked tree
Worn and withered by the never ending wind
Wondering what it’s like to be free
Wonders how life would be without so much sin

The man in black walks the path of crows
Segregated from life and isolated from hope
His cut is even deeper than it shows
But he has found a new way to cope

The man in black just stares at the tar
And finally feels that he has a true friend
The man in black has walked so far
Hoping soon he’ll make it to the end

The man in black simmers under the black hole sun
And stares at it until his eyes start to bleed
He has a different definition of fun
He’s just looking for the next opportunity to feed

The man in black hides in plain sight
Hoping never to be found
And every day he waits for the night
Because that’s when all his friends come around

The man in black has learned from his past
He depends on nothing but death
Always wishing that his next step is his last
Always wishing one day he’ll be able to forget

The man in black is starting to fade
And he feels a numbing feeling of content
He has finally found black’s darkest shade
Finally found the place to which his soul will be sent

The Man in the Chair

The man just sits in his chair, thinking of love, he has that feeling of wanting someone, but also feeling a prevalent uneasiness, getting number each day. The man just sits in his chair, counting the days he’s been lonely, counting the number of times he’s felt shattered or broken. The man just sits in his chair, watching all his friends and all who are close to him spending times with the ones they love, feeling more depressed every day, trying to keep his wall of happiness from crumbling. The man just sits in his chair, not caring about the time or the day, the week or the month, or anything but the one he needs, he just wonders when all of his pain will be washed away.

How I Feel (In Detail)

Life is intricate, life is beautiful when it’s at its basic state, its deepest root, but there are aspects that affect and distorts its natural innocence and beauty. There are good times and there are bad times, but right now I feel like I’m stranded in a tunnel void of hope, happiness, and life. Like i’m stuck in a freezer, my heart just keeps getting colder and colder the longer and further that I’m here. I feel like I’m encased in a cage of sorrow and emptiness. The way I’m feeling right now just tears my heart out, but numbs me at the same time. Writing has always been a channel, a place where my emotions can flow and I can just state my feelings and emotions, but it can help me dig myself out of this hole that I’ve found myself in. That’s how I feel.