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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.

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Posted by on February 9, 2016 in Paradise Drift

 

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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.

 
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Posted by on January 28, 2016 in Paradise Drift

 

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Drifting

I find myself far from home, floating through the vastness of space on a derelict spacecraft. I would fix it if only I knew what the problem was, if I only knew anything at all. I see so many stars but they are all just spots of light in the vast darkness that surrounds me and I’m afraid that if I don’t find out what the problem is, that I’ll be lost forever. The bed I sleep on is hard and uncomfortable and often I find myself just pacing the metal floored hallways at what I can only assume is night. Time loses itself in the absence of a life giving sun. There’s someone here with me but she never comes from the shadows and rarely speaks anything other than cryptic one liners that all equal out to the same five words. You are going to die. Her voice is soft and barely above a whisper yet it puts me back on my heels as swiftly as a roaring lion on the hunt. I know what she says is true. Know in my heart that it’s only a matter of time till the oxygen runs out. Know that if I were to be merciful to myself then I would move into the airlock and let infinity have me. I’m so scared of that thought and yet it only gets louder and more insistent. My ship mate must have heard me arguing with myself, for now she’s taken up a new phrase to whisper from the shadows. Do it without fear. It will be better. You are going to die.

Days or weeks or months pass. Like I said before it’s impossible to tell even the days out here. I have already scoured every room of this vessel that has become my home, just trying to find a clock so I can know how long I’ve been drifting. I wish I could remember how exactly I’ve ended up here, but I can’t even recall my last name. Surely I must have been important. Otherwise why would I be here on this spacecraft floating through the empty black? Despite the warnings of my fellow passenger, the oxygen doesn’t seem to run out and why exactly is just as mysterious to me as all the knobs and buttons in the cockpit. The lights however do run out and I find myself spending every waking moment hugging the windows where the light from the stars outside make it so I can almost see. The woman gets even more insistent now, her voice rising from a whisper to a distant scream from some back corner of the ship. YOU ARE GOING TO DIE! Then comes a whisper from right next to me and I feel her breath against my face as she repeats once again the phrase that scares me most. Do it without fear.

I don’t know how this story will end, or even my life for that matter, but I know somehow that it doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter that I’m lost out here or that I will die out here. It doesn’t matter because I remember the puppy I accidentally jumped on when I was young. I remember it’s final whine as it lay broken before me. I remember running inside for my mother and through tears and gasps got her to follow me outside. I remember the tears that grew in her eye’s and rolled down her face as she realized the painful truth that the poor creature was dead. Only two weeks old and I had killed it. I didn’t understand why it couldn’t be fixed and why it had to be buried. I remember my mom explaining it to me and the end of my innocence. I know now that it doesn’t matter where I breathe, eventually the breath will stop. Be it by accident or simply old age, the woman in the shadows is correct. I am going to die. But this fact is not enough to sway me to the airlock. I refuse to give in. I will fight the infinite black until I am pulled there by force. And though the situation seems rather grim, there’s always hope for a brighter tomorrow. There must always be hope.

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Posted by on November 6, 2015 in Paradise Drift

 

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