Hollowed

…when there’s nothing left to be said. When the mind hides behind dreams of violent conclusions and drifting memories, what’s left to be explained? More importantly where does one find the words? It starts with the complicated end that fractured the will. Flesh. Weak meat tied up in delusions of self importance. I remember reeling in the fish and watching it choke… red and dark. Blue and red. Red and dark.

I wish to God I could find the words. It’s like a faded memory of something pleasant that comes with a scent on the wind. Images fade the waking mind but the memory is still warm and comforting. And no matter what I possibly hope to say, it won’t change the wane of the day. It won’t change the cosmos at play.

The dance began as a playful sort of innocence that blossomed beyond the control of either body involved. Love is like that. You can’t choose it and you sure as fuck can’t ever hope to control it.

The cement room is dark and musty and full of horrible memories of a childhood spent dreaming and ending screaming. FUCK IT ALL! FUCK THIS WORLD! FUCK EVERYTHING THAT YOU STAND FOR! He screams the lyrics at the top of his lungs as he feels the numbness spread. He takes another sip of cheap vodka and pukes a little bit of it back into his mouth. He swallows the puke because his pride will allow no weakness. He takes another lortab and beckons the devil in the corner of the room a little closer. The tears come from nowhere and are just as sudden as the laughter that chases them away.

Because I could write a million words and still never tear this goddamn disease from inside of me. I can’t remember myself before that night. Who the fuck was I to be so foolishly oblivious. They say what point is there to dwell on the inevitable? I say what is the fucking point of denying and ignoring it? Go ahead and bury that shit 6 ft deep in your subconscious, watch it dictate and control your every goddamn move anyway. I embrace the darkness. I have no choice. It swells and grows in me. Dreams of red. Dreams of black. Dreams of the faces of people I’ll never see again. Dreams of a truth better left with the dead, when there’s nothing to left to be done and…

 

Just Like Butterflies

               They hover around you for the taking. Like buzzing little bees. No. More like butterflies. You collect them like a child does baseball cards or even fucking comic books. Their strikingly beautiful colors dazzle you and entertain that inner longing for something new. Something beautiful and something strange. They’re bottled and put on display, wings half heartedly flutter against the immovable lid of your compassion, then finally give in and the little creatures tumble down. It’s the wings that so captivate you. The various colors and intriguing patterns keep you dazed and entertained for as long as it takes to look to the jar on your right.

             …..and as I stared into the neon lights I felt the magic of the night. I felt the drift and embraced the pull. Alone and stoned and walking aimlessly, drifting and grifting through alleys and souls. Gift the world and I’d ask for a receipt and a smile, because one was always infinitely more fucking valuable than the other. Then in the end it didn’t matter because chains of loyalty are just that, correct?

              Cotton balls and alcohol and a deep peaceful sleep for the collected. They fall light and quiet and feel a weightless extension of the tweezers. Fix into place and stretch wide the wings. Breathe deep and steady the hands as shaking shall bring only harm. Steady now, gently pierce the thorax and pin into place your most curious infatuation. Just like butterflies.

 

Boxing With Demons

               We were young and free so we did as we pleased and danced the night away. The world morphed and changed as the crimson explained a truth burdened with fear. The collapse of the past and the collision of the future expand like a solar flare. I’m so disconnected and it makes me sick because I just can’t grip the goddamn give a shit. Wooden benches that stuck the back and lessons that bled into the seems. I met the ponder with faith as one and felt the damage caused. I bled the damage caused. I burned the damage caused. In flames it went and in return to char as the skin would bubble and pop.  I’m so disconnected and it makes me sick because I feel to well at home.

               It’s in the eyes, the wise would say if only ignorance had spared their tongues. A breath and a wish, a moment of bliss and it’s always better in the eyes. Truth be told fortune rarely favors the bold but instead tends to mask the dead. For in truth there are lies and with a magicians disguise there is no telling what can be done. For though the bridge has burnt away at least the ashes will eternally remain. The scorched earth reveals the pain of love impaled upon a jesters knife. So split the hairs and locate a smile because to forsake it would be the ultimate crime. The moon reflects naught but the sun and so does your light hit even the streets you walk. If darkness encroaches, well simply smile as it approaches and watch the shadows flee. It always seemed to work for me. Love, Jaxxsin

 

Scribbles & Bits

               I can’t seem to find myself asleep tonight, for I can’t seem to find myself through these dreams at night. They thrash and scream like a distorted memory, and I’m all tied up in chains with no vision of a key.

               I found it hard to trap the rest of me, held down by a sickness with no remedy. I even pondered upon an apothecary, even he said there was nothing that could be done for me.

               I asked the dead to please forgive me, the past transgression’s taken hold of me. I found salvation in a battery, because it was the only thing that never seemed to fucking cut out on me.

               Random lines scrawled on an empty page. Thoughts scribbled in a flurry of motion. Words of wisdom are hard to find yet the proclamations of the damned can be found in bright neon by the side of the highway. When we were young everything seemed so splendid and new. The town was small but the minds contained therein even more so. I only ever thought of breaking away.

               Death is whispering within the wind. I hear him beckon like a missing friend. I try to find myself through. But the wind sounds like sugar in a deaf man’s ear and all that I can seem to find here is just more fucking fear and if salvation hides in the wind it’s clearly beyond my ability to fucking hear.

 

The 15th

               The rain has never smelt quite so clean and the moon has never shone as bright, as the young lovers dance amidst the chilly night.  He drifts aside her as the clean air pulls, they come together as one and shiver down to their souls. It’s a conquest met for some and a curse found for others, but none can deny the beauty in a pair of dream bound lovers. The world won’t wait for a second chance, so when caught up in the music never forget to dance.

               The breath of a moment and the grip of a rose, the vision of the day caught up in a vulgar pose. You see the thoughts are like vampires and ferocious as bees, they fly and sting and take until they bring you to your knees. I felt the fall as it happened and smiled despite the pain, no matter how hard I try, I still smell her in the rain.

               I feel it in my weary heart. I felt it from the very start. I feel it every time I dream. I felt when I made you scream. I feel it breathing like a fee. A tossed out image and a stolen key. I felt you feel me in my heart. I fucking felt it from the very start.

               Then the rain came and washed the ashes of yesterday back into the blue. Taking care to leave not a trace of life behind. The moon will shine as another empire falls. It will stand vigilant as a reminder that dreams lost have still been felt and that joy, though temporary, is indeed a real and tangible thing. So shine my midnight mistress. Shine on eternal and hold my heart safe and secure within your bosom. My angel of the evening, hold me till I wash away, and know that my heart will only ever beat for you and our midnight dream.

              

 

Fever Pitch

               I dreamt of the pull of sand and a distant drifting land. I dreamt of a grey faced man and I watched as he took her hand. I dreamt of a fire free burning in the sky as all of the children cried out why? I dreamt of a cold cast lie and the dream fell like tear from her eye. I dreamt of grinding stone and lecherous tombs empty of polished bone. I dreamt of a world with a sun never shown and watched as the darkness revealed me all alone.

               It’s a mess of thoughts that lead nowhere and I can’t even recall trying to care. I feel the fear of the coming frost and the distant discourse between the lost. And the ashes they just keep calling and in my dreams I’m always falling and my knees are stained red from all of this crawling and I can’t hope to survive this stalling.

               I thought that I knew your name. I even thought I knew your way. I felt the world fall as I heard the news. I heard the blood as it rushed it’s way from my beaten heart all the way through my eyes and felt them moisten in response. I knew the truth then. I felt the ice.

               My hands shake on the lighter as the flame scorches the memory. It is a temporary fix but I know it’s still there. Scratching at the surface like a trapped idea and wanting more of me to kill. I look down and see a hand in mine. It’s only for a moment but I swear I can feel it’s warmth. I can almost feel it tickle it’s fingertips up my arm and past my shoulder and brush my hair.

               I fell through the sky like a print in disguise and watched as it danced away the evening. I felt the moon’s caress and misused the motion and fell deep inside my mind. I dropped through the ocean and into the sea and felt the entire world forget about me! The depth of fear is vast indeed and it’s probable to redesign the seed but impossible for the crippled in need. I don’t want your hand holding me aloft. I won’t be your broken. And I’ll stand alone with my shattered plan. Because after all that’s all I had! A fucking shattered plan for a crippled man standing in the shifting sand. It’s all I am and all I had.

 

Ninteen Summers

               The clearing is beautiful and the perfect place for a camping trip. Alcohol and a lack of self control pave the way inside the fractured mind and isolation seems the safest course as it always does. The sky is clear and the stars are the second brightest ever seen, the moon is crescent and seems a sliver of a thing just barely peeking out. There’s a slight breeze flowing and the world is perfect except for one thing. A half soul is not much of a price and even the devil would need to be hard pressed to take the deal. Something seems to be missing from the moment and the grave calls just a little louder than yesterday, promising peace yet only ever promoting fear.

              

 

Old Habits

               It creeps inside like a trapped between lie, flexing and brushing as it worms it’s way through. Best defense cast aside and the child is shaking outside in the dark. Tears fall from his eyes as they stare through the wheat stalks, hidden by the innocence of youth behind the negligence of dreams and naive ideas. Staring up and out into the vast unknown, wondering on what wonderful things might be hidden in the countless twinkling lights. The night deepens and the dark becomes threatening. What unknown terrors await to trap and ensnare the unsure and unstable? Shadows flit and fly as his eyes continue their watery dance, all while the stars beckon and the moon forgives.

               His smile is represented in stone. It’s a tricky thing to talk about and even harder to think, when I see his eyes open in terror and then close against the fight. I feel the curse tightening daily and wonder at the theme. Benevolent creator save me from the knowledge of the end, I’m threatened by it daily and fear it always. Like a candle lit in youth and expected to last. Like a kiss from your soul that never lasted long enough. As the wax turns to air and the soul flees from thy side, so shall your smile too one day be represented in stone.

               Life flee me fast. Leave me dazed and completely unaware. Trace me from existence as a dying star. And love me all the more once I’ve gone.

 

That Night

               Years are stripped away as the familiar scent is drawn in through his nose and interpreted by his brain. The bright orange neon lights and the smell of a cigarette burning away somewhere in the night. He thinks of life and all the possibilities. He thinks of death in it’s absolute inevitability.

               He never meant to be so dark and he knew early on enough that it wasn’t normal. His peers never felt the darkness that was there from the beginning so how could they ever understand it? So he kept it all in. Sometimes he would break and fall to his knees and cry out to God. He needed there to be a God so badly. There had to be someone who knew and understood. He couldn’t possibly be alone. He has felt the calm that faith can deliver but it always came with a side of biting guilt that wrecks like an ocean upon hurricane shores. He always had his words though, his words and precious paper. These were him as much as I and we found comfort within our own bosom.

              I feel you breathing and steady my own breath to match your cadence. He turns his head to the left and looks down at her sleeping face and wonders if she’ll ever be his wholly. I feel the distance between us even though your head is cradled in my shoulder and your arm draped up and across my chest. He breaths deep and tries to suppress the shaking that’s beginning to take over his right leg. Ever since I quit drugs the fuckin thing goes crazy every goddamn night. He remembers the party and the neglect that wasn’t meant for him but rather for the rest of them. I still remember the subtle stares cast from shadows and the implications behind them, the dogs would stare at me like I had a piece of prime rib in my mouth that they really fucking wanted. His chest aches and his stomach fuckin turns, he crawls his way from the bed and steps as lightly as he can across the creacking hardwood and slips out the door and into the bathroom. I splash cold water across my face but it doesn’t do a fucking thing and my right leg is still spazzing out and I just want to be anywhere but here. He grabs his clothes and brother and leaves her in dreams. I’m drunk but wary and therefore have little concern about my capacity to drive home. He drives from her house next to God’s and feels in his heart something that he’s really known for months now. You will never be mine.

 

Truth in Color

Thoughts of violence and passive apathy clash like titans in a world drowned in silence. Metaphors get tied up in riddles so that none may discern the truth. For if the soul is shred open and the truth finally escapes, would it not be bathed in the myths of the ages? Would there indeed be no chivalrous Knight charging his way towards glory? If you would only take the time to speak to the ashes of yesterday and allowed the lessons to break through prideful walls and exemplary business models, well you might just find your mind swimming with the possibilities. Can you not hear the wind? It calls for you.

When the reward for some is the devil to others and when the world has come full turn. Will the snow melt away to reveal the spring or will the cold never flee? Will the sun shine on in silent judgement and watch as we drift into black? Will it ever have a chance to bear witness to our end or will this disease of hate send us spinning much sooner? Questions asked before the end only ever bring the pain of knowledge. Madman or not the end result is the same and ashes will be ashes and dust will of course be dust and the world will exist only so long as you can conceive it. Can you not hear the wind? It calls for you my friend.