Restless nights plagued by memories wrought of sheer madness. Standing naked, bathing in the moonlight, as the blood dries against my skin. Falling forward, and cascading out of the mind of an almighty, benevolent, seemingly malevolent, creator. Crashing down amongst the wreckage, like so many pounds of flesh and bone. Conscious thought abandons all hope, while the subconscious emits sparks of spiteful light. Who could understand? Standing in a whirlwind of purple, as the lilac spins around me, blanketing and protecting me, from the hateful, burning sky. Eyes turn white, as they turn in upon themselves. Skin peels and drifts lazily to the ground. What am I becoming? What have I lost? Luck fails as abandon wins through, yet foolishly, here I stand, holding out this golden horseshoe. Promising a heartbeat of a lie, taken from me before it had even entered conception. A whisp of a dream, tore from my mind like the innocence of the damned. Fare thee well foolish notion. I grieve your loss as if it were my very heartbeat that had stopped.
Monthly Archives: June 2013
The wind cascades and it feels like blades, are rending every inch of my back. Then I’m freefalling throughout space and time… slowly becoming as bereft of expression as a limbless mime. It confuses and amuses me, this numb feeling… I feel a trickling chill through my limbs… the sound of it sealing, dealing and trying to kill me. I am truly insane, said the preacher to his mute choir, but I assure you, your singing, is of the angels. I stood by and saw the pride roll over and out of their eyes. I felt it grow within me… for half a moment. The truly sad thing about moments, is that they are momentary, yet ever goddamned lasting all in the same breath. I saw a spark, turn to a raging fire, ranging from here, to forever more. I then saw the flames turn greedy in their eagerness, and turn in upon themselves, consuming their very lives, in their voracious hunger. All was dust and ash, when finally in the end the flames had finally eaten all that could feed. Barren is a word not often truly understood, nor is it one that can easily be described… in fact I will maintain it is impossible to do so. With nothing left, yet left adrift in the biting wind, I welcome the feel, of steel, as it glides around and through my back.
He sits alone in this room. It’s all a test. Greatness comes with madness. We all just choose our own poison of crazy I guess. Some have greatness and gain a madness of which is narcissistic and evil. Hitler had greatness and his madness…well…the Jewish people can tell you what his madness was. He stares at the pieces. The structure was built by other people, it was not to be trusted. Too many flaws in the picture. Too many fucking flaws. He feels the sickness of faith creep in his gut as everything he once knew becomes a fable. A story tale better saved for children night time stories. The pieces are here. Everything is in this jigsaw puzzle of shattered glass. The memories of childhood games. The rejection of everyone and the love of those who matter. Somewhere in these pieces are the picture he wants to find. The picture doesn’t match. Nothing fucking matches in this place. He wonders where he is. Was it his room where he fell asleep the night before? Was it the basement of which there are paintings on the walls? Was it the baptismal pit of which he was initiated into something that which will never truly be his? He can’t remember where he was last. Falling asleep, this has to be a dream. He starts to panic as the confusion of the puzzle pushes him to the brink of a full on mental collapse like Jesus just bashed his brains in. Hyperventilating, he tries to re-focus his eyes on the puzzle pieces. Then he finds it. The distant memory wrapped in a riddle tied within a dream. A place of which he wasn’t quite sure if it was a place. The fog ties his mind down as he reaches for the memory. He finds it slowly deep in his core where he feels the fire from within. The sun holding him in her warm embrace, caressing his being letting him know that he will be ok. That everything will be ok. That there is a purpose, we are just too narrow minded to know. And within the warm, orange, gentle grasp of the sun he finds peace. He sees that nothing is everything and everything is just right around the corner. He holds this cornerstone as he sifts through the glass. The edges of the glass hurt as the memory tears his mind open like brain surgery with no anesthetic. His hands get ripped apart by the pieces filled with heroin. So many sharp edges…so many cuts…so little time. Piece by piece this man slowly puts his mind back in order. Putting the picture together. Finding the pieces that don’t fit and throwing them to the shadows. This is where the story ends for the process is still underway. Permanent fixing is imminent. That’s the only way things go in his story. The pieces are shattered and they get put together again. Too many scars prove that.
I miss you. The words are easy to speak, yet the feeling behind them, impossible to convey. It will get easier with time, say the fools. I still remember every detail of your young face, I still remember the last words spoke. The pain has never faded, I feel inside that it never will. A tear, the first, running right through my entire being. The first fine cut, that started my innocence bleeding. There is no reconciliation with the dead, only with that part of us that dies when we see that box lowered into the dirt. I never learned to heal, only to cover up the wounds, keep them hidden away from the world. Never let them see, the storm that rages, beneath my clownish grin. I miss you. I choke on the words as they leave my mouth. I wish I could grab them and replace them with another lie. I’m not supposed to hurt. I’m not supposed to bleed. Everyone has the tendency to freak the fuck out when I do. Why am I not allowed to miss them? Why am I not allowed to cry? Why is it considered a sin that every fucking night before I sleep, I beg and plead with the creator to rewind time, and just let me trade? I’m not allowed to have these feelings? I’m not fucking allowed? What kind of lonesome place do I inhabit, that every day I must paint a mask upon my face, and continue to falsify my every fucking word? I’m drowning… muscles are getting weary from kicking against this furious current. The odds placed against me, are daunting in their near insurmountable height. Feet keep kicking. Lungs keep breathing. Just keep sleeping. Find solace in your dreaming.
A legacy, scrawled in faded metaphors and lost causes. Dangling guilt high overhead, hung next to gold crosses. Dreaming of myths, bathing in crimson pain. Strangling the soul, overfeeding the gluttonous brain. The heart, starved to the brink, due to the minds overwhelming ability, to overthink. As simple a task, as purchasing a pack of smokes… has him gasping, face turning blue as he chokes. Panic strikes, who could hold the key… to unlock every motherfucking inch of me? Who could wield death, just as gracefully as a cutting knife? What stranger… will finally end my life? Fear grips and pulls me, in beyond countless directions. I see you… I can smell all your goddamned imperfections. I can see you, drowning in a sea of self doubt. Read the sign on my head, let’s hear it, scream and shout. Like I really care who you are. You’re just as unique as the last shooting star. Beautifully struck across the night sky, bringing hope in the form of a cataclysmic lie. Two universes can never be one. So please… I beg… leave me be… turn… and run.