Anna Torres
Bio
I’m a 39-year old mother and student. I love reading, metal music, and writing. I have begun writing again since 2021
Stories (163)
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Pain Remains
Shadows fall, pain remains. Darkness lies, we’ve gone insane. This internal war isn’t fought with bloodshed. Its mastermind is all I’ve never said. I try to extract the truth but only pain remains. Is starting over again an option? I’ve seen enough to want to try again. Banish these evil thoughts, kill them all. Exhume and erase me, I can’t go on. Collapsed thoughts pushing me into the ether. I’ve looked for signs of an arrival sent from the skies. But no saint or hero will deliver me unto myself. I challenge the power you have over me. A spectacle in shackles with no right to grieve. The splinters of me lay splattered on the floor. Broken spirits are all that’s left behind. The ground is neutral but it’s me I can’t seem to find. I close my eyes and let myself unravel. Unwind into the unbecoming. Bending radical laws into self-soothing techniques. Restoring that which is minimal. Reconstructing that which is gone. The other versions of me prevail. They aren’t withered down by weather and time. I pirouette constantly and continue to rotate without purpose. I’ve live to die just to die everyday. Dead inside, there is nothing left to mourn. If I could extract the truth, I would but only pain remains. Why wake just to watch the rise and fall of everyday? I let the fickleness of monstrous deities liquify me. I allow the weight of the sky to simply fall down on me. The shadows create their own storylines while I follow the same outcome. The indecisiveness of left versus right. The lack of conviction between day and night. Resistance has become surrender, crushing the singularity I am under. Doomed reality giving birth to an apathetic future. This timeline is useless. Riddled with pain and stricken by vanity. It will all come to dust, one way or another. They’re out there somewhere, the other variants of me trying their best. It’s a world where I simply could care less. I’ve tried to extract myself but only pain remains
By Anna Torres3 years ago in Poets
Byzantium
Conversion, evolution. A cycle of primeval going down the drain. A primordial abduction with everything to lose, nothing to gain. A poison on the tongue with venom piercing through every open vein. I’ve witnessed the world going down in ruins and it’s driven me insane.
By Anna Torres3 years ago in Poets
Fathers are overrated
I am the product of a once angry man. I am 36 years old and still harbor a grudge over my father’s frustration at life. If I could sum up him up in one word it would be: provocable. It didn’t take a lot to stir up his fragile emotions and get him riled up enough to yell at me and my 4 sisters. Including my mother, there were 6 women against 1 man where the man dictated everything.
By Anna Torres3 years ago in Men
Tsarina
We didn’t use typical code names from Resevoir Dogs like I assumed we would. This isn’t my first bank heist but it’s theirs. They wanted to do it on a Friday but I knew better. You do it when they least expect you to: we pulled the job on a Monday. They used titles like King, Duke, Caesar, and Emperor. I was the only girl so they called me the lamest name I could imagine. They decided on the disguises and the getaway plan. They chose the weapons and the inside man. I took it one step further and made sure that man was my brother. They would have no idea they were played until the end. If they ever get out of prison and pull off another scheme, they would know not to assume stereotypes. I was the female who had no input on anything. So they made me the getaway driver. I made sure to wear my sparkling crown when they realized how screwed they would be. I wanted to be there when their lives flash before their eyes but my brother said it best: a Tsarina has to keep her hands clean. They will remember my name.
By Anna Torres3 years ago in Fiction
Defy
I let you walk all over me but these wounds are superficial. With hostility to match your ego, I name you artificial. Don’t be so shocked when I nail you to the cross, babe. This ugly obsession is a mystery that will not fade. These angel wings will not fly me to safety. Your Mercury cures live only to plague me. These medications don’t heal your arrogance. With your abundance of bitterness, there’s so much I can’t rival against. Let me take you down a notch or two, honey. Come back down to earth and see what I see. Let me crawl all over your crooked stones and rocks, dear. I’ll meet you where our future disconnects and the end is near. Hold back your tears as the nails penetrate your wrists, my love. I want your fear as you face your agony from above. Why did we sign up for this wretched insanity? I can’t imagine a more hollow existence than the one we are living. All the hurt you caused was all the pain I took. All the hysteria you created matched the faults I overlooked. Beware the curse of the cross and the nails that bear your name. There’s a spot on the very bed where we were one and the same. I learned that there is no universe for us anymore. I wanted to break free but you just wanted it more. I come in close enough for the nails to kill. I wanted you all to myself but now I’ve had my fill. My love, my dear, my husband, my hate. There is no us anymore, there is only cruel fate.
By Anna Torres3 years ago in Poets
A Bipolar Playlist
.38 Special-Hold on Loosely When I was young growing up in San Antonio, Texas, my family and I took 3 road trips to Disneyland in California. My dad would be the main driver and he played many random songs on cassette along the way. This is the song I remember most and whenever I hear it, I reminisce about those road trips I miss dearly.
By Anna Torres3 years ago in Beat
Culpable
I’m sorry my love but your sacrifice is needed. There’s a time and a place for us but not here, not now. The throne calls to me. I seek a crown of fire. A dragon I’ve become and now the moment is dire. My sword is my covenant. A kingdom borne of trial and tribulation. Oh discord, dismantling everything we’ve built. You stand tall while my spine shrank, melting into the covers of a lovers’ bed. I’ve met the devil but he’s got nothing on what I’m about to do. My avarice is a cunning device meant for mutinous self-destruction. I’ve traded my submission for comfort over and over again. The fates control the world but I hold your life in my wretched grasp. There is no ending with the both of us still intact. My dear, you’ve taken enough out of me. Nothing we’ve accomplished results in equality. Uneven squabbles and perilous greed. Everything you want is nothing I need. It’s not enough to deviate from this recklessness. I must remove your identity entirely. All manifestations of your face will be shattered. Stricken from books, erased from memory. You’ll end up like all the others, forgotten and lost to indifference. Time is not an ally. Time is a countdown, announcing to all your upcoming removal. I’m sorry, my love, for not being sorry. I apologize for my lack of apology. Our love has come to its inevitable demise. A marriage erupting from the chaos within. A pact imploding from the passion inflamed. I’ve said my promises but I’ve renounced them. I take back my vows and my commitments. I chose me over you and as I walk over you for the final time, I am grateful for your sacrifice.
By Anna Torres3 years ago in Poets
Immurement
We all know you’re dead, you just don’t know it yet. Bones will become brittle, blood will evaporate. Tendons will hardened, skin will calcify. A coffin above the ground. A sarcophagus that lies in wait. History will judge you and finally seal your fate. Was there any doubt in your undeniable guilt? Your tomb will lie undisturbed and unraided. Bedouin tribes will keep your name silent. The desert will claim you as a lost traveler. Nomadic wanderers will leave you in forced peace. This denouement will climax and abruptly cave in on you. Future theives will never know you existed. Your origins will simply convert into energy and vaporize. It will be the last thing you ever do. Your gift to humanity is not your confession but your absence when we are finally rid of you. A vanishing provoked by hostile hands. You made your bed and we will strap you down to it. A gradual decline in your capabilities. Imprisonment is not enough punishment. We must rejoice in your eventual decay. Your years of torment have ceased and we look forward to a world that no longer exists with you in it. Your sentence will echo in the chambers of the pharaohs. Silent are the voices you took. Silent is now what becomes of you. This world is finally through with you.
By Anna Torres3 years ago in Poets
Tundra
A hike off the infamous trail. A perilous expedition, a journey off of the glorious path. These footprints keep going nowhere again. I have reached the inevitable end just for me to turn around and do it all over again. I have crossed over frozen ponds and hiked over treacherous terrain. You hold custody over my body but I keep trying to break free. I have ventured northward over hundreds of miles all for a smack to the face. I have gestured to the south all for an assault to my senses. To the west lies a broken wrist that prayed for an end to your madness. An eastern wind gave birth to a revival but you stomped it down to debris. I watch the sun peak over the horizon but you still are only eons away. This tundra is a blessing away from your thunder and rage. I have to return home eventually but this trip is annual now. It's a perennial power you use to abuse me. To prove my love, I must do all of the above. Domestic tranquility is a cover for violent genius. I haven't achieved maximum clarity yet. I do all of this for just one toxic embrace from you. A pilgrimage I believe will cure me. A hope that may never die. One day you will love me the way you were meant to. For now, I must travel abroad to demonstrate my loyalty. A devotion to a volatile god, unreciprocating and unrequited. Balancing on a jagged blade, tiptoeing across a dried up reservoir. You are the tragedy that sparks my resolve. You keep on giving then taking away your temperamental love.
By Anna Torres3 years ago in Poets
Scythe
Heaven doesn't want me. Hell has no place for me. No haven awaits me. It is you that I cannot do without. I can live but it wouldn't be so grand. You're both the bane of my existence and the lifeline I cling to. You're the failure I made and the achievement I sank. You're the breath I hate and the heartbeat I love. You're the cause of all my suffering and the center of all of my endeavors. You bring me to the edge of my sanity and keep me safe from my unconsciousness. There's not a corner of the earth where you can't find me. There's not a place in the zenith where I won't look for you. We are trapped in the firmament together. We are wedded in the chaos forever. I won't let you go even when you've worn out your welcome. I'm not leaving even when I've had my fill. We will reign for as long as there is a kingdom. We will flourish as long as there is time left. You don't see the imperfect design that is me. You don't care about idiosyncrasies. Unflattering flaws, peculiar downfalls. You see me in all my ignorant bliss. We will burn together in this beautiful necropolis. I don't want a life without you and your patience. It's a burden where I won't accept anything less.
By Anna Torres3 years ago in Poets
Dear Son
Dear Luke, I’m sure this news will come as a shock to you. I have tried so many times to figure out how to word this carefully so here it is: I’m not your father. I raised you for the last 15 years just for the paternity test to tell me you are not my son. I love you just as much as the day I first held you. I have loved you since were knee high and now that you’re taller than me, my love has only deepened. If you will have me, I will continue to be your dad because I don’t see you as anything else but my child. If you do not accept this, I understand. I didn’t know how to text you or call you or even email you this information. I sat down at my desk and the words flowed out onto this paper this afternoon. The universe made me your father and a silly DNA test doesn’t change that for me. Please know I don’t hold any grudges against your mother. She has nothing to do with my responsibility to you. If you want to keep going, please let me know. I love you, son. You can always count on me to be here for you, always.
By Anna Torres3 years ago in Poets
