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Monthly Archives: October 2014

Corrupt Confinement

Blood. It is an imprint of everything biological in me. As unique as each individual snowflake that falls like regret from the glowing night sky. It holds all of me in the single drop that rolls off of my finger and stains the white world below me. Thoughts are tossed out into the flurry and are smothered by the oppressive cold before they even have the chance to fully form. I hate this part of the evening as the vomit splashes into the small dot of red drowning the beautiful evening in my sickness. It continues long after the last drop of liquid has been expelled from my stomach. What was it all worth? What was I ever really worth?

I know I will never see the answers so long as I’m still oxygen reliant and that fact frightens the hell out of me. The unknown darkness that hovers just over the horizon frightens the absolute hell out of me. It’s the ultimate spoiler alert. It’s the fruit that was forbidden and in consumption has obliterated the innocence of countless of tiny lives. The grains of sand roll out of my hand and crash back into the beach, only to be washed down and away by the inevitable tide. I see a man hunting to provide nourishment for his family. I see a woman tenderly picking up a fallen child and teaching him to stand once again. I see the hourglass drain the last bit of its sand as all of them turn to ash, and are blown away by a swift eastern wind.

If I could halt the unrelenting flow of time, I would hold it captive until its creator came back once again to claim it. I would paint the sun blue and dye the moon red. I would grip the lecherous monsters and chain them in cast iron cuffs, to be tossed into the deepest parts of the oceans. I would bathe the world in harmony and separate them from the vengeance burning inexplicably in all of our hearts. Instead, I will turn to ash and I will be blown away.

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Posted by on October 26, 2014 in Paradise Drift

 

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Bipolar Mine Trap

The kitchen cabinet opens like the curtains on a disgusting play, and inside she is chained up much the same way a rabid dog would be, sitting on her knees with a face covered in running mascara and food. Her moans are pitiful and haunting all at the same time. He closes the cabinet door with tears streaming down his face and turns and walks from the ragged house in the middle of the crooked wood, leaving behind the only thing he never wished to see.

The pistol feels cool and comfortable in the palm of his hand, almost as if it was invented and manufactured for this very purpose. He inhales softly and remembers the cold stone catacombs where he left his childhood wonder entombed. Chemical dreams and restless wandering took over the sandbox and toy soldiers that used to be enough. Medicated and halfway through the point of no return he realizes that he long ago forgot that magic was real and ghosts could kill. His temples are throbbing along to the beat of his weary heart as he places the cold steel against his forehead. The gun clicks upon an empty chamber and he surrenders to the fact that even this he can’t help but screw up.

The faces of long forgotten acquaintances stand in a row on either side of the pathway he finds himself walking down. They smile and greet him with as much empathy and excitement as a porn star would muster in an actual Hollywood production. He can feel the fakeness along with the anger as he finds the brick door and pushes it open slowly. Inside he sees a room adorned with crimson curtains around bricked up windows and a simple bed covered in blood splattered white sheets. Laying in the middle of it so still and gruesome is the one thing that finally holds some kind of emotion for him in this strange land. Her hair is black as the darkest night and her skin as pale as January snow. He moves next to the bed and presses his finger into her wrist. The pulse is faint but clearly there for one such as him to find. He lifts the limp woman into his arms and turns to the door only to find it gone. She is placed lovingly and oh so carefully back onto the bed where he found her and then he frantically searches the four brick walls for a way out. The bricks are as solid as the mortar used to hold them in place, still he punches and slams his body against them until blood coats his hands and bruises decorate his shoulders. Finally he moves back to the bed and the woman so still upon it. He tries to find a pulse, but he already knows there will be none.

Once the tears finally run dry and he is able to pull his face from hers, he turns and sees the doorknob that was not available to him when he so frantically and fanatically had searched for it. It was not available while it would have mattered. Once again he scoops her into his arms, only this time she feels so much heavier and also unbelievably cold. The door opens, and he sees a vast green meadow, stretching on for as far as his eyes can see. A concrete path mars the landscape and seems ridiculously out of place among the shin high grass and wildflowers sprinkled throughout. He follows it for what seems an eternity, with the corpse of the woman he never knew tucked lovingly against his chest, until off in the distance he makes out the faint shape of a tree. It grows as he closes the gap and he sees that the path will end at its base. He hits his knees when finally he reaches the end of the path and sits his precious cargo against the massive trunk. The tree seems to come alive in that moment and opens up to pull the cold corpse into itself. Where the woman once sat, only moments before, there is only bark. He rubs his hand lovingly against it and turns back to the path behind him. His footsteps are heavy and his hands shaky, and all the while he fights the urge to look back.

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Posted by on October 15, 2014 in Paradise Drift

 

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Exorcise the Mind

Reworked metaphors built upon the ashes of infinite bodies hover like a poisonous cloud above us. I only ever wanted a clean slate but the eraser was rubbed dry and the ink wouldn’t budge an inch. I often wonder if it would matter at all anyway. The world seemed to softly fall into gorgeous bonds of nihilistic chains as the sun faded to black and the stars, well the stars would have shined if they hadn’t all overdosed on chemical dreams and fractured circumstance. My head hurts holding it all in day after horrid day. The crimson stain left behind was washed clean by the callousness of yesterday and the smile was forgotten the moment the twinkle died out from his eye. What could I ever fucking say to make this world right itself again? What could I ever fucking hope to say?

Attention? Fucking please. I would rather dwindle into dust with honor and quiet contemplation alone. All I’ve ever had is my mess of angst ridden thoughts and splintered disbeliefs. I was left alone and thank god for that. Thank God my cancer has been contained and nailed down with plastic smiles and hopeful wishes. I cast the reflection upon the surface of glass lakes covered with the mists of forgotten emotions and broken hopes. The tears ran dry, as dry as my corpse will one day rest at the bottom of a six foot drop, as will all of yours. So I should persue the golden goblet, I should clutch it to my cold chest and pray that it shall earn me redemption at the end. I should… but I never fucking will.

Admittedly maybe I’m more than slightly lost. Maybe I fell through the looking glass and was tossed out the other side with this malicious smile in place. Maybe I was born the maniac I was always meant to be. I rage against the nightmares that stalk me like fresh prey in a predators hunting ground. They always end the same way my life will. I wake blessed with one more day of knowing that I’m still fucking nothing.

Only the young die good and free. Just let it come fast. Let me end the same way I began… oblivious.

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Posted by on October 8, 2014 in Paradise Drift

 

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