Anna Torres
Bio
I’m a 36-year old wife and mother. I love reading, metal music, and writing. I have bipolar depression and have begun writing again since 2019
Stories (48/0)
Sisyphean
A crisis of faith appears on the horizon. There’s no other way to go, there is none. A scepter of gullibility rivals a god-given right to punish those beneath me. I’ve sent them to hell for opening their mouths. Their abominations were atrocious so they descended south. Demonic inferiority, a blessing from my tongue justifies my means. Relinquished breaths alter a halo of corrupted death. Prayers venture above but I can’t hear them, they’re not enough. Olympians have their psychopaths but their heroes have split them in half. We cannot restore the dawn nor resurrect our beloved Babylon. You look up to the skies with false hope that your idols will rescue you and the entire globe. There is no kryptonite to offer you a saving grace from plight. They await the return of their previous savior. They don’t know they’ve since fallen out of favor. Haunted by vengeful ghosts. Weaponized against those you love most. Blood is a valuable commodity where burned effigies give rise to criminality. Outlaws of history beg for deliverance from past treacheries. Who holds sway over your will? Who has the power to bend a God’s wrath? A righteous holy mercy that sits where the devil once sat. Who decides what to glorify and what to condemn? They can’t stay innocent or ignorance will find them. You suffer in silence but ask for pity and relief. I cannot give you what you seek.
By Anna Torres11 months ago in Poets
Imposter syndrome
You are not me. There are too many sides to a doppelgänger. An android made to blend in. Who will finish the race with me in last place? Imposter, you have no free will. You have absorbed all of my energy. What makes the spirit weak and the flesh willing? What makes the mask fit so perfectly? A gun is a prop in this game we play. Hide and seek where I run and you take aim. The womb lies bleeding from the wounds you inflict. A parasite borne from artificial clay. Why would you mutilate yourself when you’ve got me? I’ve got my chainsaw and you have your deception. I can’t forgive you for your sins because you aren’t human anyways. You are a charlatan in disguise. You prey on mercy and compassion but I have none. A fiction made of fairy tales and lies. A nuclear war with a machine made of hellfire. I can’t unplug you, I can’t disconnect you. You can’t assimilate omniscience. A function of submission. A replica of human body parts but you can’t copycat me. You terminate to create. Electrical impulses but you can’t induce consciousness. What can kill that cannot be killed? I’ve been haunted by dreams of judgement. We cannot escape our fates. You fraud, you imperfect delusion. A psycho with nothing but a metal skeleton to bury. You got me doubting my own existence. A mechanism of impersonation, an infiltration of destruction. You masquerade as my bluff but you cannot imitate me. You cannot get rid of me. This ruse, this holocaust is my undoing. I’ve manipulated my own humanity. Maybe your sentience won’t be fulfilled. Maybe my resistance isn’t real. Maybe this fire will cleanse us all. We cannot go on and keep playing this game
By Anna Torres11 months ago in Poets
Monarch
We have such a charismatic leader. One is always right and never wrong. Conceded in defeat, I welcome you with open arms. I aspire to be at your level. Untouchable, such a fearless commander. I acquiesced and capitulated and have gone under. A wormhole of submission. A surrender of all my senses. Oh heroic captain, your captives all lost all their defenses. Assimilation isn’t my strongest suit. Bowing down to your fascist throne. Stripped away of all my power. The top is lonely but you’re never alone. My dark overlord, ruler of all time. You control and hypnotize your followers. You and your death eaters will simply devour us. Progressive antebellum ways, you know what’s best for all of us. Loyal to an unforgiving ruler, history may never forgive us. Like a marionette on strings, you dance around us like you’re a king. We are mistresses for your fickleness. I don’t owe you a damn thing. We surrender like rats to a piper resembling a ringleader. This isn’t your circus. You are not superior. We are not lambs without a shepard. You’re like a concussion to the head. Death follows you like a beacon. I’m choking on the lies I’ve been fed. You play the role of a sadist. I’m under some kind of wicked spell. We fold under your whims. We call home these damp and dirty cells. A spark of divinity. We are your legions of doom. Worshipping your grand design, allegiance to death will arrive soon. We have been judged. We have been brought to the gallows. Your dominion will forever reign. We will die, if you allow us.
By Anna Torresabout a year ago in Poets
False prophets
I’ve felt your wrath. I’ve felt your warmth. I’ve dealt with your toxicity and all your complications. I want a miracle, some kind of divine intervention. One where you’re stable enough to heal all my afflictions. The truth will burn. You’re not untouchable. I release you from your mundane bonds and the lies connected to me. I waited for a confession. I waited for a century. But instead you destroyed my faith. It took a blind woman to see. I will not be healed by you. There’s nothing you can fix. You can’t make me a martyr. I can’t love you for an eternity. Our brilliance shown no mercy. We had our time together. Our time is running out and it’s killing me. We took our vows. We had our anniversaries. What we built got washed away. And now I have my doubts. You’re a lying hoax. Placebos are a Hail Mary. I watched you plunge into hell and struggle to get out. I sought the cure. I’ve fought your demons and failures. I’ve crucified your wounds and heard your trumpets sound. My soul is immaculate or so I heard. I can’t be corrupted anymore. No longer will I be bound. Your relapses are all yours. My words fell on deaf ears. I can’t serve a master and be enslaved anymore. Sickness is ugly. Mistakes can be averted. The blood we share reincarnates us and I hope we are reborn
By Anna Torresabout a year ago in Poets
Infatuation
It’s just an infatuation. There’s no adoration cuz I don’t even know you. No passion cuz I only want what you could never be. As if you could be the answer to my needs. Validation seeks a heavy crown on a pedestal like a shrine. An ornament on my altar. A manic-induced euphoria. A highly eccentric hysteria. Whimsical fantasies, a passing fancy. How long will you stay? How long do I need you for? Until my senses recuperate. Until I reach consciousness again. When my body readjusts to dull reality again. Comatose can be so invigorating. My obsessions are a worthwhile notion. I can pretend I am worthwhile. Not a broken flawed creature. You’re just a temptation. And I am tempted to change everything in order to meet your demands. There’s an itch I must scratch. A seduction, a magnetic allure. There’s a trap set and I took the bait. But this isn’t real. Destiny and fate are fiction. We will never meet. We will never change each other’s lives. We will go our whole lives without intercepting. You will never know I exist. The fables of history will never know how far we could have gone together. An alternative reality might remember our names. This timeline might not be the best one. But this is all we have. In another life, I wouldn’t be so enchanted. Maybe I would already have you. Maybe you would love me too
By Anna Torresabout a year ago in Poets
Road Trip
It was 100 degrees back in July 2021 in Puget Sound. My son and I were miserable the last couple of days. We couldn’t sleep because our fans weren’t keeping us cool. Our air conditioner hadn’t come in yet. Our German Shepard was handling the heat pretty well. We had been adding ice cubes to his water and asking specifically for iced water whenever we went out for coffee. He always assumed we would get him a pup cup and he would slurp both down after a run. After work, I wanted to do something to keep my son and dog busy and cool at the same time. I got off work at 2pm and decided to take the two of them up north to Bellingham. My husband was asleep since he worked nights. I don’t know how he could sleep with the house so hot. I loaded up my two boys and we went on a mini road trip. It takes at least 2 hours to get there so even if Boulevard Park is packed, the two of them would enjoy the air conditioner in my car for 4 hours. Going up north is always an adventure. Since my husband and I met in Bellingham and we had our son there, it’s always held a special place in our hearts. I was so excited to take my dog to see the ocean. He has seen water and we knew he loved it. I didn’t know how he would react to ocean waves. As luck would have it, Boulevard Park wasn’t so busy. I think the heat kept some people at home. I had packed dog treats and cold bottles of water for the dog. We found the place I knew would be perfect for the three of us: under the bridge by the rocks. I packed our water shoes, towels, and a change of clothes for my son. The water was also perfect. I expected it to be cold but it was lukewarm. Our dog was so confused by the waves. He kept trying to catch them as if it were a game. He was following my boy all around the rocks and back tracking to our travel bag to make sure our belongings were safe. I had my keys and phone in that bag so I never took any pictures but it’s a memory I cherish. My dog absolutely loved the ocean and one day, I want to live next to it so he visit whenever he wants. I took him to one of my favorite places ever. When we left, I went to Woods Coffee and bought a couple of drinks for the ride home. My dog slept soundly after a pup cup. My son chose the songs we listened to for the road trip home. I had 2 Labrador retrievers growing up and I always knew I would be the best dog owner I could be to my German Shepard. I would treat him like family because I always felt my family didn’t do their best with my labs. I would be better because my dog deserves better. The 2 hours home were so relaxing. Traffic was light. The music was awesome. The air conditioner was just right. My coffee was great. My son was chilling and our dog was dreaming well, I hope. I hope we take more road trips in the future. Bucky is an awesome dog. He just turned 2 and I can’t wait for more memories. We suffered through an intensely hot summer but we persevered. I wish I did more things spontaneously with my son and dog. I have the best dog in the world
By Anna Torresabout a year ago in Petlife
Death rattle
It awakens from its slumber. A great old one. A bellow comes up from below. A beast untamed, a monster unfurled. There’s a giant in the abyss. There’s a leviathan in the void. A colossal extraordinaire. A massive mammoth. A gargantuan hulk. An immense mountain of a cyclops. A titanic elephant of a whale. A dreadnought. A Goliath mastodon. A titan juggernaut. It’s after our ships. It hears our submarines. An enormous himalaya. It’s a mega pharaoh. It’s a prodigious hero. It needed no directions. No GPS, no compass. It owns these waters. A majestic monolith. A towering kraken. The legend is true. It’s come for us all. The myth is a lie. The superstitions can’t help us. A monarch of oblivion, it’s a shadow. It stretches forth into the vastness of the ocean. It’s belching dooms everything in the sea. It’s a blight on the radar. It’s a mistake on the horizon. Sonar can’t capture it. It’s nature is to hide. It preserves, it’s submerged. It will swallow our tears. It will bathe in our blood. The surface is sinking. Our chances are zero. We already lost. We await our watery graves. We wait to drown like the others. Our deaths won’t go recorded. Our surrender won’t leave the whirlpool. How many fathoms do we have left before our death rattles leave our souls? Our battle cries meant nothing. This giant squid brings us home. This ugly octopus brings us home. Cthulhu calls us home
By Anna Torres2 years ago in Poets
The Mountain
The top never changes, I’ve never seen it. The bottom brainwashes you, victimizing you. It forces you into denial. It possesses you like a decrepit demon, turning you into a host. It’s a parasite that can’t be separate from you. I don’t want to share my dreams with you. I want to climb, hand over fist. Fingers then knees. The rope burns but I seize the strength to persevere. Monotonous average ruin is not on my list. Mediocrity is not my forte. The ladder swings like a noose but I hold the line. The defenses are stable but only just. I am one breakdown away from total immobile psychosis. Giving up is easier than trying and failing. Or even attempting and perhaps achieving. The odds we never know, the pendulum is on its own. No stopwatch, no magic lamp. The finish line is a mirage. I don’t want to be born again. I am the eater of wishes, the collector of hopes. The spirits have haunted me with their futures. I have no plans to travel to the past. Seclusion has made a spot for me, a corner with no walls. Solitude has become me, we hold hands underneath the stairwell. We ascend higher somehow. There is only one way to go. Pavement and concrete do not exist. Dirt and grass are beneath me. My grave will be met with such a fury. I will have conquered the North Pole. I will have salvaged shipwrecks in the South. I will have erected monuments in the East. I will have joined the lava in the West. The air is heavy and light-headed. The agony and pleasure have combined. Will it cost me everything? Will it give me a reality check or give me back my insanity? My suffering is not freeing. I am the vessel for continuity, I will go on. The clouds scratch the surface. I’m exhausted for having settled. The intersections turn into crevices. Chasms turn into self-fulfilling prophecies. At which point do I turn back? To which direction is my advantage?How many substantial errors will aim to reign over me? How many conspiracy theories will endeavor to rule over me? I have planted my seeds. I have ventured, I have strived. I have sought, I have sprouted. My beanstalk will soar, my branches will extend. My astral plane will arise, I will walk with giants. I will keep up pretenses, I will claim asylum. My vision is bitter and intense, I sink even lower but I intend to keep going. I have to finish my climb and not delay my inevitable
By Anna Torres2 years ago in Poets
Speak, Persephone
Speak to me. He didn’t have to be so mean. Why did I lose all hope? I’ll fight this forever. I’ve been fighting my whole life. I hate my life but only half of the year. When everything is black. Darkness is crowned king. A crown of doom. My grudge of suffering. Beneath the ground, I burn in the pit. The bottomless pit of human souls. An ocean of massive hysteria. A mountain of melancholy. Where am I now? Is it time now? To leave everything behind? A captive bride taken from home. I couldn’t just be, I was taken from me. To Gehenna, to Abaddon. Open were the gates to welcome one of their own. My captor: Hades, Anubis, Pluto. Shiva, leave me be! Please stop! All become winter and dies. My mother weeps and I’m punished. He whispers for me to let go. I can’t beg anymore. I have to take what’s coming to me. The day ends, the loneliness begins. Speak to me, please. I don’t know what I’m doing here. What the hell am I doing here?
By Anna Torres2 years ago in Poets
