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Beyond the Sand

20 Jun

               Step through the crowded room and find yourself venturing boldy down an unfamiliar staircase. You step onto concrete and continue to swagger through the darkness. A muffled scream catches you unaware and it seems to be coming from under the stairs behind you. You stumble with hands outstretched towards the source of the soft crying that has followed the scream. There’s a tightness in your chest the closer you get. A fear that was not there minutes earlier has now gripped your beating heart with icy talons. A face begins to take shape in the darkness, almost seeming to paint its pale features into existence right before you. Your stomach clenches and you hit your knees in weak defeat. For the painted face that lays pale and motionless before your very eyes is none other than your own.

               Freak. Thoughts of famine and fatal fetishes can no more condemn than forgive. The darkest part of the night seemingly stretches forth to smother the suns heartbeat and leave the earth barren. Forgiveness is beyond the nature of the damned and peace is utopian fiction. After all, where would the processed be without the sacrificial lamb splayed out in neon by the side of the highway? Where would the masses ever find salvation then? Truth intermingles with shadows and robbers of the light. The clearest of waters have muddied themselves in the presence of these lecherous dregs. Love seems to hold out against the tidal fury of this maddening machine. It stretches its resources against the oncoming rush of fresh brewed filth and fearful hate.

               The dream is full of magic. There’s something stirring in the air like a hastily whispered secret. The darkness breaks and so does the sky above this. Bright flashes of rainbow lights assault the earth below and leave them dazed in absolute wonderment. There is magic there. It burns a hole clean through the mortal chains that bind. It breaths life of another order into being and creates a beautiful world. One where nothing is restricted and love stands triumphantly over the slain body of the hateful machine. It bends with the colors of passion and burns with the heat of hope. With nothing lasting ever etched down tenderly in loving stone, the incessant beat of forensic science pulls evidence, evidently out of nowhere, and puts a bullet in the forehead of this colorful creep that leaves the hope of eternity… in a bloody crimson pool on the concrete.

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Posted by on June 20, 2014 in Paradise Drift

 

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