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Monthly Archives: November 2013

Running Lines

“Create, yet anticipate, chaos to rule over fate”

The warmth drains from my legs and rushes up, through the core, to heat my swiftly cooling head. The wind rages around me, intermingling,  indiscriminately, with this violent flurry of white. My legs go numb as my soul begins to catch fire. My shaking makes its way into a seemingly peaceful rebellion. I feel my last heartbeat just as my eyes finally pull open for the first time.

The overbearing choking smoke, meets my conscious thought the second it ticks on. The heat assaults my skin like the sweet embrace of an old lover and has me dropping to the floor, just in order to continue breathing. I feel my heart trying to escape its boneyard prison with the frantic pace of a man condemned to die. The carpet around me bursts into flame and my safety becomes my undoing. I soon can no longer feel the flames licking my flesh, but I can’t stop looking at them, for my eyes long ago lost the ability to close themselves to the face of this benevolent creator.

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Posted by on November 25, 2013 in Paradise Drift

 

Decapitate and Incinerate

It’s a sick revolution, this internal evolution, that spins a vortex around me, darkening every goddamn thing I see. It’s a twisted convolution,  that lays waste to my mind with pollution, if the beast only had a name, maybe I could finally win this game.

………..shove it in, shove it in……….fit dammit, you’ve got to fit……….

Follow the circle up then down, watching as the blood pools upon the ground, spreading in apocalyptic design, promising a fate that will soon be mine. A fire, a dissolutional mind mixed with desire, free flowing in crimson rainfall, hand in front of hand I continue to crawl.

………….I can’t see the bottom……..I must see the bottom………….

I feel it always with its incessant pull, gripping my body and confusing my soul. Promising hope at the tip of a forked tongue, stalking and whispering constantly since I was young. My only comfort as I patiently sit, just waiting for that bullet to finally hit, is in a few moments, you’ll finally give a shit.

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Posted by on November 19, 2013 in Paradise Drift

 

Anticipate and Antiquate

I once knew a man, with brittle calloused hands. The cracks seemed to scream of nightmares, and whisper of dreams. His knuckles appeared to know pain, and plans relentlessly laid to waste in vain. Scars stretched the length of his palm, damaged almost beyond, yet still they remained perfectly calm. He once spoke, in a whispered choke, of a dream found and a heart broke. He croaked again, of how he learned to shed his skin, in order to better understand his sin. He rasped, in gasps, of how love holds while devilish lust attacks, clings and grasps. His eyes rolled back, and in the wake of deaths attack, I shed a tear, to another love story returned to the black.

It’s often hit and miss, the distance between paradise and the abyss. There’s just so much noise, in a world with limitless choice, who would ever care to hear my voice? What can I actually offer, should I even bother, should I just continue to quietly ponder? Are my words just senseless and inane, cryptic babbles of ghosts and rain? I like to think they drift out, and get lost right about, the moment between a whisper and a shout. Then maybe they drift down, among the leaves on the ground. An Autumn wind, then blows in, and I watch their journey to you begin. Taken by the will of tomorrow, they exist in a place beyond fear and sorrow. Collected and protected, safely tucked away, intent to be neglected. Then again, however, I must admit. That I may, possibly, just be losing my shit.
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Posted by on November 14, 2013 in Paradise Drift

 

Mental Cascade

              A simple twist of variations on this page and maybe I could smile like you. Maybe with a different deck on a separate shuffle I could learn to forget that I’m dying. I’m holding two suicidal kings, a set of jokers and the queen of hearts in my hand, yet still I hesitate to take the bet. It’s not so much the cards that bring luck and fortune, so much as it is the hands that hold them. And my hands… well my hands are covered in blood.

              I remember feeling the magic thick in the air with the rising of every new day. I remember my first hat and the reason I bought it. I remember a carton of cigarettes on Christmas morning, divided out pack by pack. I remember a round poured and shared amongst friends with a toast to good times and even better people. I remember forgetting how to breathe, shaking in tears as I collapsed to the ground. I remember I will die.

             There’s a room full of people, and they’re all staring at me. I feel the accusations held in the face of every one of them. I stand shoulders slumped and inevitably my eyes turn to the hardwood floor in shame. They see it, held there in my eyes. I try to hide it but no amount of false smiles and half-hearted jokes can camouflage what gleams from my eye. My sweaty hands twist and turn nervously within the confines of my jean pockets. Perspiration is visible upon my pale cast face and my entire frame is visibly shaking.

             The blade slides across the flesh leaving a crimson trail to mark its passing. Needles tear a hundred imperceptible holes and the pain begins to feel cleansing. Fists meet concrete conclusions and bones crack uncomfortably. The head is put quite bluntly through the floor to ceiling mirror and the image of it shattered on the floor… will hopefully set the blind free from their own arrogant vanity.

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Posted by on November 12, 2013 in Paradise Drift

 

Moonlight

I’m feeling intergalactic and dyslexic, drifting through universes backwards. I took apart the damaged stars and nailed them on my wall, right next to faded memories of you and I. Dressed to slay and dreaming in cartoon colors, I blended into the night with in particular ease. Frozen roses explode in a pantheon of colors, I turn my eyes to the floor, unworthy as I am to behold this brilliance.

Legend carved into ancient stone, solidifying itself in the web of humanities collective mind. A tale of a telling nature, screaming to be heard, to be felt. Digression becomes second nature existing in a progressively distracting world. Webs cast to snag and to stumble, spiders await the vibrations of panic to begin. Cruel truths learned at the end of a blade, knowledge gained, naivete burned.

Blood, the power of the word itself is undeniable. Pain translated with a razors edge, like a paint brush caressing a blank canvas. Tunnel vision sets in crimson around me, and this hole doesn’t feel like home. I glance skyward and see the brilliance held in the night sky above me. I am marrying the moon tonight, and the stars shall be our children.

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Posted by on November 10, 2013 in Paradise Drift

 

Capital Punishment

Idols bread from horribly twisted misconceptions, stand tall aside statues of other golden gods. A world twisted by point of views and misdirection, infiltrating the very shores of heaven itself. Design layed out in the shadow, played out in the bright of day. There are wolves amongst the children of men, sheep are being taught to be devoured. Image. Sex. Pack mentality. All the while you sit in your tower of absolute morality. Meanwhile I just can’t shake free the mental shackles of mortality.

Inches from me, a soul traverses the gap between a blink and a heartbeat. Angels cry as devil’s dance around in sickening amusement. Not all the water in the ocean could wash your hands clean of this. Brutal beast, cutting lives in half, bred from the dark of night. Slavering and disgusting. Pathetic slave of the devil. Bondage suits you well.

I’m a blink in the eye of infinity. Fall farther… I’m a passing amusement, breathing only at the grace of time. Drift higher… I’m ashes from the condemned blowing through ages and empires.

The sky breaks a bright blue as the sun gives birth to a new day. A promise was given, and a toll was paid. Pennance hidden in a million cages, locked down tight, inches from your aching heart. Time allows for no redemption in the eyes of man. Forgotten actions take the form of very tangible present vision. There is no salve to hide the scars… every last one… is everlasting.

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Posted by on November 6, 2013 in Paradise Drift

 

Don’t Stop To Grieve

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Milk white eyes stare into my trembling frame from under water. I swim, but no matter how fast my body struggles, I never break the surface. I’m aware that everything is fine. I know I’m breathing oxygen. I just wish more than anything to behold the face that holds those eyes… those cold lifeless eyes.

I’m somewhere unfamiliar, yet insanely intimate despite the foreign surroundings. People are smiling at me and yet inexplicably I see no faces. Something changes. The faces stare at me in horrified expressions. I hear soft calls, pleading for help so distantly, it’s almost heard as a memory.

Ghosts from the path behind me, I cannot help. I cannot bend space and time and realign the stars accordingly. I cannot rewrite the forgotten histories of a million lives lead and a billion lives lost. Please understand.  Blood spilled can never be replaced. Innocence burned can never be restructured. And dreams had in the dark of night, hold no place under the blinding light of reality.

 
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Posted by on November 2, 2013 in Paradise Drift