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|  | | Figure Eights
Fear has a new name. It wears no disguise. Prepare yourself to enter a world where the dead reanimate and souls disintegrate — the bowels of pure terror. Werewolves, mummies, vampires, ghosts, and serial killers take advantage of their victims. Each yarn has a twisted end, thus, given the name, Figure Eights.
Enter this room — storms of fear. We are all victims of our own exploitation. Nevermore, the sun will persist. Nevermore, we will stride to exist. Dreams are blackened by shadows unaware. Souls left wandering in the midst of despair. We are all mortals, therefore, we die. Terror is a representation, a mirror to cast a reflection that, be it as it may, our innocence defines. And be it as it may, our sovereignty confines. Life is ephemeral. Death is eternal — perpetual — infinite — the riddance of pain — heroin in the vein. | |  | | Lines of Distinction
Between the soul’s eye and the mind’s eye there exists a center point. It is divided into two sections: Good and Evil. The only way to determine each element and classify their distinction is to cross a line. However, once crossed, the mind and soul connects causing confinement to the element chosen. These elements are the lines of distinction.
We live our life beneath the hand of God----bound by his glory. As we grow, from toddler to adulthood, we are given a path. Spiritually, we jaunt amongst the everlasting way. But sooner or later, we come to a fork. One way can lead you to darkness to where the other can lead you to the light of heaven. We are required to decide on what path to follow. You can only choose left or right. Jeff must have kept on walking . . . straight down the middle. |
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In the End: Apocalyptic Poetry
by Debra Kraft
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 In the end they'll all be dancin'--all them ones that didn't die.... Dance with me in the shadows amidst the lightning and the thunder, and all that nu-cu-lar debris. See the big bang from the other side, and then open that cellar door. Go down into |
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