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Monthly Archives: February 2014

Penitent Soul

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Hollow words arranged in a tapestry of doubt. Father, I beg you to set me on my purpose. Teach me to live as if I am unaware that I will die. Father, I can’t cry anymore. My eyes have dried up much like the oasis that had sustained my heart. Father, I don’t want to hate myself anymore. I want to believe that there is nothing that I could’ve done. Father, I know that’s a lie and it’s killing me every passing day. Father, I have wandered from the path and now find myself hopelessly lost among this hurtful fog.

Father, I’m sorry. I’m sorry that an apology will just never be good enough. Father, who has watched over me since my first breath, I am sorry to have squandered the precious gift. Father please… take the burden of guilt that weighs me down like concrete in the ocean. Remove from me my crimson hands, wash me clean in your righteous fire. Help me feel again… as if every breath is a blessing as opposed to just one more step closer to the grave.

Hollow words ring into empty space. Where there is no ear than surely there is nothing to hear, so am I just talking to myself? Please be there… please give me a reason… please… a reason to fight… please… a reason to live. Please Father… please.

 
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Posted by on February 27, 2014 in Paradise Drift

 

Random Tear Burst

“Kalahira, mistress of inscrutable depths, I ask forgiveness.
Kalahira, whose waves wear down stone and sand–
Kalahira, wash the sins from this one,
and set him on the distant shore of the infinite spirit.”

“Kalahira, this one’s heart is pure,
but beset by wickedness and contention.
Guide this one to where the traveler never tires,
the lover never leaves, the hungry never starve.
Guide this one, Kalahira,
and he will be a companion to you as he was to me.”
Thane Krios – Mass Effect 3

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Posted by on February 25, 2014 in Paradise Drift

 

Secular Romance Pt. 5

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“I really loved her, you know?” The pale man spoke in a cracking voice.

The past 24 hours seemed like a walking nightmare to poor Jonathan. He had woke up from the dream at three o’clock in the morning on a Tuesday. The nightmare had been much the same as before, with just one non too subtle difference… Ravyns killer had appeared for the first time. A pale man with bag leadened eyes and a lanky frame. Although Jonathan remembered the man to have shaggy black hair, from the many news articles he had been obsessing over, Jaxson Hardway now appeared bald in his dream.

The tree cracks with the volume of near deafening thunder. Ravyn waves frantically as the muscular man made of shadow drags her towards the shambling house, white eyes locked upon Jonathan’s. Something happens and he is no longer in his room looking at the painting, but instead he stands next to the roaring tree. His feet drag slowly through the dead wheat, pulling him, seemingly against his will, towards the half open door. His hand reaches out and he tries to quietly pull the portal open but it screams creaking protests the whole way. He’s standing inside a small room. A large television with a small screen sits in front of a shabby orange and green couch. Pictures hang on the wall of a young Ravyn with a heartbreaking hollow smile. He hears a scream from up the stairs on his right and he moves up them so fast he almost misses the trip. Jonathan. He hears his name whispered followed by another fabric rending scream, seeming to come from behind the black door now in front of him. His shaking hand moves out and slowly turns the golden nob.

An adult Ravyn lies bound and screaming upon the bed in the center of the room. Red satin sheets compliment the pool of blood that has collected in between her legs, staining the white nightgown she wears. The man of shadow stands in the opposite corner from the door with his massive hand clamped over the poor child’s face. His other hand holds a familiar revolver pointed towards the open door of the closet. Jonathan takes a step into the room so that he can see what the gun is focused on. Jaxson Hardway lies shackled to the floor with what seems like well over a dozen chains. His head is bald and his eyes bloodshot. A look of sheer terror is written plainly across his face and is understandable considering the stitches that hold his mouth shut. The shadow throws the broken girl upon the bed next to the screaming shattered woman and quickly crosses the room to stand next to Jonathan. He takes his wrist and pulls him to the closet. His hand holding the pistol moves so fast it seems a silver blur and Jaxson’s forehead begins to bleed. His white eyes turn to Jonathan’s and he slowly whispers his name. Jonathan reaches out and takes the pistol. He puts it against the pitiful monster’s head. The child cries. The woman ceases to scream and instead lets out a chilling laughter. “DO IT!” she screams maniacally. He pulls the trigger.

He woke up at three o’clock in the morning on a Tuesday. He died at four o’clock in the morning on a Wednesday.

 
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Posted by on February 23, 2014 in Small Tales

 

For Those Never Free

Conveniences, coincidences and collaboration. God my heart wants out. It feels as if it’s tearing through my ribcage with the desperation of a drowning man. Look closely and watch the tremors work their malicious way from the tips of my toes all the way up to my pale cast face. The die has been rolled and the story told, yet I still feel my muscles constant rebellion in your absence. I’m hating the person in the mirror more and more with each passing day, I’m nothing without you, I’m empty with you. I remember the way you tasted on my lips, my tongue left bitter in your wake. Take me my queen, please calm these torrential muscles, numb these self hating thoughts. Leave me empty I beg, for I’m done feeling as if I’m going to explode.

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Posted by on February 17, 2014 in Paradise Drift

 

Hazel Phrase

I’m dreaming….

I’m smiling because your face has just now pierced the fog and the details are solidifying themselves into an understanding smile. A hundred words pour from my far too eager mouth and I watch them clumsily make their way to your ear. I try to grab them and return them to my mouth but they move like so many flies in the summer sun and I can’t seem to grasp even a single one. I watch as your face begins to subtley change, the smile fades, and tears begin to fall freely. My head is pulled to the right, pulled away from your face, to a rather large television in the corner of my mind. A dimly lit street appears and I see my friend. I float above him as I let him walk right past me, right past me and into Gods arms.

I’m shaking….

Red floods my vision and stars burst all around me. I can’t see anymore. I refuse to see anymore. I walk to my truck and leave the flashing red and blue, buried in my rearview. I turn the dial and hear you laugh. I quickly change the channel with the expression of an adolescent caught with his first dirty magazine.  I find a station playing “Enjoy the Silence” and find myself singing along to every word. I pull my cigarettes from my pocket and am in the process of lighting one when I hear you ask for one from the passenger seat. I turn and find you smiling with your hand held out, looking lonely without mine in it. I pull another cigarette from the pack and light both at the same time. As I’m handing you one of them, I see your face break out in terror followed by a horrific scream. My eyes follow your gaze to the road just in time to glimpse the sheer rock wall ahead.

I’m waking….

They’ve labelled me a liar and have thrown me on their shelf. Right in between where they keep the thieves and the rest of the filth. What am I but a walking, talking, meat suit? Sometimes, I swear to God, I wish I could crack open my chest just to see if there’s a soul in there. Frustration is just a word and it does nothing. I watched the Playboy channel just because I wanted to live in a world where women were as replaceable as lightbulbs, yet nearly not as bright, if only for a minute. But the fact is they are not, nor should they be. So when I see your face in my dreams it doesn’t make me angry or sad, I think the only way I would feel that is if you just weren’t there anymore. I’m glad I’m still bleeding. I’m glad I still hurt. Because that just means that it was not always a dream, and that someday I’ll have the scars to prove it.
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Posted by on February 11, 2014 in Paradise Drift

 

Winter Melancholy

It was the only thing left to hold, when the world went white and cold. It was warm up until the exact moment, it was impossible to hold it. Historically sold down the river so wide, grasped by the ocean and tossed out by the tide. If only answers were as easily given as lies, if only truth could flow as easily as the tears from those eyes. I won’t hurt you, won’t hurt anyone, but as always that’s much easier said, than done. Words are worthless and solve not a thing, but I would end my life for the chance to hear you sing. Smile struck across a goddesses face, wind blown hair thrown wild through the chase. The summer night and the magic in the air, the scent of rain, completely lost in a stare. A faded memory outlined in crimson red, lost in the realm where things go to die, left unsaid.

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Posted by on February 7, 2014 in Paradise Drift