Ceridwen Arawn's blog: "Ceridwen Arawn... Bleeding In Eternal Serenity"

Confess to me your sins,
Sing to me your sickness.
The sound of beating wings arise,
Miffling unheeded cries.

A parody of deception and lies,
Stalked by the wolves of demise.
Little learned is little gained,
When the important signs a fool disdains.

Destiny shifts to Fate's desire,
The paths converging to split once more.
A thread is cut as a new is woven,
The doors slam shut yet a window opens.

Light is strained as darkness pools,
The shattered fragments revert to whole.
Shadows solid to stroke your face,
Yet your wandering hands find naught but space.

A vacancy here and a candle lit,
A bridge broken over river styx.
Hushed whispers rise to keen,
Eerie wails still cold blood in veins.

Hyperventilate within fight or flight,
Walls close in, shadows thicken to form.
Fall to knees within the snare,
Futile cries for none to hear.

Soft soothings cloud the mind,
Filling the cracks with soft lullabys.
Sweetest dreams in desperate moments,
Horrific nightmares in serenest seconds spent.

Confess to me your sins,
And I'll help you dig your grave.
Sing to me your sickness,
And I'll seal your lips in stitches.
The sound of beating wings arise,
As a peaceful smile replaces anguished cries.
All the while I'll hum with wings,
And sing to you one last lullaby.

 

~~~

 

>Written and Published this past December<

 

 

 

This is actually one of my favorite pieces, I wrote it late into my Junior Year. It may be morbid but I love it. tick tock watch the clock eyes wont open don't look so shocked the clock stops the pendulum falls glass shatters babies cry dreams die and darkness kills the light hush now settle my dear quiet now as the needle works stitch stitch through the lips, then the eyelids strain in vain against the chains cry tears of blood scream muffled shrieks sob and weep until the filth feel the dirt and smell the earth feel the softness that lies beneath beg and gravel but no more mercy dwindling space darker still gasp for breath in your lungs only filth calm now no more protest weak and silent slip into sleep's deepest hush now settle my dear feel the knife the edge cuts deep scream and screech another slash bawl, weep squeal, squeak flowing tears pleading gasps sharp point pressed to tender flesh starts to spin burrow deep trickle blood, flow and seep scents the air tease the taste now the end no more fun time to die time to part silver blade thrust in deep through the ribs underneath twisted quickly blood runs thick silence now, not a peep restrained arms limp and relaxed then wrench to life at a piercing shriek tick tock look at the clock wide awake ten o'clock great breaths, gulps of air a single tear pain or fear? slowly calm and look around cool and contained lay back down small glint in the dark reach and touch lift the dagger, blood-drained face a small sliver of blood marks the blade a sting in your side your night gown darkly stained touch the slash shallow but long and one single thread hanging from the corner of your mouth shaking hands release the knife curl up eyes closed tight whispered prayers and silent soothings sweet dreams my dear one last good night

I used to write about butterflies, About peace and love rather than demise. But now all I dream and all I see, All I write are of visions of stitches in lips and eyes. Blood and gore and dirty whores, Worlds of pain and rage. Twisted thoughts of my estranged. Gone are the butterflies, In their place have come graves. I write of lies…. Of deceit and of a child's anguished unheard cries, Of a mother's loss and a man's betrayal, Of a friend's sacred bond torn and shorn. Of a faceless god, Of a feared ancient creature, Of the Anti-Christ. Of things you fear and things you crave, Of lust and trust…. Of a pile of dust. A circle of ashes, And a well of loss. A withered rose in a field of flames, Falling posies scattering the ground. A time old power crumbling to dust. And so it grows and swells, Thickens and decends. A layer of pussy crust, An infection spreading, Through the cut of those refusing to accept… What they fear as the end is merely where we begin. I used to write of pretty things…. Silk and lace… kittens and ribbons. Peace and love of a contented mind. But now all I dream, And all I see, Reflected back when I peer into the cracked mirror… Are the scars of my stitches that once were there, The scars of where I clawed them out, Tearing tender flesh and lashing out. But the worst scar… the one no one can see but I still can feel, Is the brand of betrayal seared into my soul. No more sweet dreams, Of a world serene. Just haunted shadows, Dwelling and lurking below the surface. Just barely cloaked, Just barely unseen. A jagged abyss, That devours me always. Swallowing me whole, Just when I get close to being free. Constantly dangling, False hopes before my face. Adding more perverse unpleasant detours, Warped and bitter in their ways. To this already doomed and destined fate. Damned I may be, But at the end of this path, More than hell awaits. What I sought I found, Now the fox no longer the hound. My price I've paid but not yet in full, My undoing is my own, My bed or grave it's all the same. I have made it well and soon I'll end the game. I used to dream of things so sweet…. So soothing and pretty, A gentle breeze- a calming rain… Of a perfect life in a perfect place. No stitches no pain, Just a calm illusion of a wistful, long gone dream. Now no sweet dreams, No illusions of what once was but never will be, Just harsh visions and knowledge or the coming reign. One last play, One final hand. A parting shot… One more piece to complete the puzzle…. To end this game. One chance is it, My final bit. Before I depart, My final vow, Before my thread is cut. And my soul shall remain forever unfound.

What you seek is never clear Conveyed in riddles to you ear In your mind you must uncover But step lightly or your doom you may sear Great caution here I do advise For a delicate thing is a mortal mind What you see may be your undoing What you unearth may become your demise My blessing upon you I bestow For thin ice you tread in your implore Inquire lightly with vast care Or great consequence awaits your error Riddles here and a puzzle ancient Unsolved for centuries never deciphered To unravel this thread you must be wary Else you shall learn much more than your query Primeval knowledge dwells in depths forgotten Unknown to most but revealed when provoken To be naive will seem a gift Should you have to live with what you've woken Heed my counsel as it is given freely Forewarning to stem what may impend As free will is a precious thing to be treated reverely Take this as you choose to see it For my riddle has arrived at it's end

Can one feel the secrets a willow whispers, As her leafy fingers stroke the earth? Almost as if in a lovers caress, As they twirl around one in the lightest of embraces. Enticing the senses to lull into lucidness, With every sweep of her graceful limbs. All else forgotten as one rests among her roots, A dreamlike haze in the tranquil peace. Soft fleeting touches, Of a shy breeze's hesitant affection. Amorous utterings of an untold devotion, Sheepish admissions of a gentle nature. What but this serenity... This essence of true somberness. Of a calm unknown and alien to that which is our norm, Could so put at ease all discomforts...any disquiets? Any uncertainties fade, Dissolving, wafting off in the mild vapor. For a small moment time ceases to be, As her secrets are spilled unto unconcieving ears. Thus the willow forever weeps, Ensnared in her everlasting adoration and misery. Always charmed by those who rest beneath the security of her branches, But eternally unable to share her rapture and thus inducing the anguish for which she weeps.