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Tag Archives: Dreams

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.

              

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Posted by on March 5, 2016 in Paradise Drift

 

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Passing Grace

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Dreaming the day away with a sad sort of smile plastered against his face. He stares blankly out the window as drool forms in the corners of his mouth. The nurse is kind as she makes the rounds and dabs the spittle from his face. He offers her a barely audible sigh as a show of thanks, she gently squeezes his small shoulder before walking away. Then he’s back into that sacred home he has carved out in the corner of his mind, a haven from it all.

He is running. Moving with the speed of an Olympic gold medalist. He doesn’t remember when he started or exactly why he began to run. He just knows that he will never stop. He takes a deep breath and leaps thirty feet into the air and lands softly and nimbly. He breathes deeper the next jump, and he is floating softly all the way down to the earth below. The next time he leaps he doesn’t come down at all, instead he is soaring through white cotton candy clouds. He looks below and watches the earth get further, and further away.

A cry splits the sky and sends him crashing violently back onto the earth. Blood rolls from his eyes like tears and it stings like apathy. He can make out the faces of the people hidden behind the blood, and the crimson tears increase as a result. They were all taken before their own flight through a warm summers evening, through the ruthless autumn, and into a proper winters bed. Gone like the white cotton candy clouds and brightening night sky.

It was cold that day the concrete proved stronger than her fist, and his apathy was cured by the violent response. Pride dropped low and doors swung open. Its an instance that occurs in an instant, and is nearly impossible to find, let alone describe. It’s like a cool breeze on a warm summer afternoon. It’s much like a drive through red and orange mountains in the crisp autumn air. It’s almost exactly like curling up under a heavy blanket on a biting winter night. It’s almost just like… letting go of everything… and becoming weightless.

 
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Posted by on November 9, 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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Image from geektryant.com

 
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Posted by on October 8, 2014 in Paradise Drift

 

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Microburst

The light wind sheds sweet air through the tent as the chilly air numbs the nose. The fire that appeared dead just minutes before bursts into life cascading warmth into the morning.

The demon dressed in gray wades through the open water trailing crimson in his malicious wake. A small smile is curling its way onto his bone white face, almost as if the whole world shall soon be his.

The snake had struck from nowhere entirely too fast. The venom had already eaten away most of his ankle when his internal organs began to fail. Staring out into the vast expanse of sand before him, his crawling ceased as he surrendered to his back. The stars greet his eyes and infinity peels back her eyelids to accept him into her bosom.

A congregation dressed in black and grey gathers at the shore. The small urn is passed amongst those with the wettest eyes. A man with an important looking hat whispers a few words into the heavy wind and sends the ashes of yesterday into tomorrows waters.

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Posted by on September 13, 2014 in Burned.

 

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Hand in Sand

Inevitability shall run its course and the courier shall bleed out and turn to dust. Eternity is vast and complicated by human hubris and bloodshot pride. The bullet resting in the chamber is getting more than bored as the sun sets on another dysfunctional day. The bird struck the mouse and no one will ever know his name, no one will ever really care that there is no name. God it’s so damn feeble and fleeting, much like a star shooting its way across an open night sky, burning so bright, only to fade away.

Calm yourself… breathe deep and feel the air…  focus on the rush of the blood… bathe in the rush of life.

I would be here if I wasn’t there and I may possibly not push at all, if all you ever did was pull. Because the middle ran dry and was laid bare before the desert sun. The wind and sand wore the smiling thing down into unrecognizable stone and bone. A single petal from the first bloom could have saved the mind.  It would have saved the mind. It should have saved the mind.

So fight the burning hole pulling you beyond current vision. Understand that you will never understand and continue to blindly hate. I was what they made and nothing in between. So I stand apart from you because you can’t handle the reaper hanging around my head. It’s written plainly in my seemingly “passionate” eyes. A mystery wrapped in black and accompanied with crimson subtitles. You will never know for you shall never see… this vast black hole… that has swallowed the core in me.

 
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Posted by on August 30, 2014 in Burned.

 

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My Kiddie Pool

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Home becomes a distant promise as the sand increases its speed daily. Children of his blood stand abandoned and alone in an empty wasteland. The choking has begun as brittle bones slowly begin their collapse into the roses of yesterday. The villain captured the victim and with Frankenstein like brilliance, fused the poor bastard into his mind. Fresh perspectives and broken faith cause a sense of twisted euphoria in the shade cast from death’s perilous shadow. What is there for the weakened when all that’s left is a broken promise made in heated embrace?

And when the venom was flowing he felt the fangs pumping it into his open heart.  Worn like a traitors mark upon his open sleeve he dreamed of drifting through torn airwaves and open streams. She held his hand with a grip built upon an urgent need burning inside her torn heart. She led him through the crimson bath and opened the door to his redemption. The bullet tore a hole through the open door as broken waves crashed upon a desolate shore. Betrayed by convictions and closed faith, there’s no smile he can find beyond this shaded empire. Paint the clown in plain view and they still never seem to fucking see you. They can keep the truth locked and bound but they will never manage to fully cage light.

So keep your crimson bloodshed and shove it straight up your ass. You know nothing of truth and honesty nor love. It’s a broken concept in the light of your self-righteousness and your hypocritical crowns. Take your golden treasure and burn it while you hit your knees in prayer for your souls safe return. Remember the eye? The eye of a needle? Remember the meek are that way because you can’t break the unimaginable. You can’t grip dreams in your hands nor burn hope away. So bash the flesh and disguise the plan. Keep your coffers closed and hold the worlds salvation hostage behind gold-plated doors and granite walls. The Lord cares nothing for your buildings of brick and bone. Love is his currency and forgiveness and judgement are his offerings alone to give. He hears me when I cry, and he shall also embrace me when I die.

 
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Posted by on August 4, 2014 in Paradise Drift

 

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