Aliens and Vodka

2012-01-19T22:20:00.000-08:00

This is dedicated to G.R.R. Martin and his obsession with exterminating characters with, I assume, a smirk upon his face and a spinster's elongated cigarette holder sticking up from his taut lips. Ha-yuck, yuck, yuck, he chuckles with a jutting jaw. I will beat you senseless with plush toys if you've done this for sheer shock value, Mister Man.

2012-01-17T11:15:00.000-08:00

I saw a face when I closed my eyes.
A crooked face with wrinkles blooming from the corners of her features,
like miniature florets of folded skin; a garden abound upon her face.
When she spoke, motes of dust formed pillows surrounding her lips,
searching, as if hungry, for a confined space in which to wallow.
Outward, slowly ascending, her words tangled together obstructing my view,
like a swam of bees en masse, kicking up a raucous noise that soon distracts me.
What was I searching for?

2011-12-30T00:36:00.000-08:00

I want to put this vapid world to a torch and warm my hands by its flames.
Sometimes, I wonder what keeps me so sane.
My thoughts straddle the line of insanity, dancing on either side in a cruel jape, but what keeps me sane? I have no idea.. My thoughts turn more and more violent as each smile flashes across vacant faces, meaningless. I am mortal. Yes, that's it and I'm going to change that.

I reckon I should tuck myself into bed and just excuse this as a minor fit of injustice.

2011-12-02T23:33:00.000-08:00

Leaves broken in two as if split by an invisible wire upon their descent; into their new arrival to become one with the earth. Some say that it's every leaf's journey to make, but what do we know of the trifles of the shedding of seasons or the toll it takes on one's identity? To be broken for months and thus renewed. To be stripped and vulnerable. To be mocked until one dons that striped umbrella again, that decorative coat, or sequined headband. I admire your leaves but I treasure your limbs. The only constant and sacred thing about you, my dear.

2011-12-02T23:18:00.000-08:00

Shame-faced and rosy cheeks.
You're a pretty, little liar.
Hung up on slender wires.
Drunk on others misery.

2011-11-29T12:35:00.001-08:00

The days go by in waves of stimulation; in a clockwork mechanism that ticks the moments by-that tocks the days away, while I stand idly in the corner. I'm watching with dissent and profound detachment as the ones I've grown up with live their lives according to a biological plan; in a culture of blind acceptance and disillusionment.

Make your babies! Sing your songs! It's all so pointless in the end no matter which way you preach it.

Tell your tales! Boast of your superiority! It's all a rumble of fabricated lies.

Life is so vapid, in essence. I'm ready to go, to cease in existence and to float off into the void, but I stay because I find too much pleasure pulling thread from its seams, with malicious intent to throw something certain askew, with a pluck or a pinch of my fingers. Laughing all the while.

It is late. And dawn will momentarily break, but I want to shout--wait! For just one day. Let the darkness lull ever constant with the living world. Oh, what chaos would then ensue? How many hearts would stop from fright? How many screams would pierce the night? How many bodies would run and fall out of sight? I ask you Sun, please remain in your slumber, if that is what you're doing, for one day, and grace me the chance to watch the world crumble, while I kneel on bruised knees and broken glass.

2011-11-18T00:11:00.000-08:00

"I'll see you when it's over."
"Come back to me."
After the war he took her by the waist and pulled her in for a deep kiss. His sweet Annie. Her back arched as he pushed himself into her.
Rain fell from the sky in torrents of fat drops that molested every surface around Tom. The dream slowly dissolving with what little hope was still left. Her words still ringing in his ears, "come back to me." Tom lifted his heavy eyes from the growing puddles of mud surrounding him to scan the remaining soldiers huddled in the trench. Little streams-like veins- spill over the lip and into their sanctuary, washing away any sense of comfort.

2011-11-09T18:40:00.000-08:00

Trudging marauders with crooked spines, yearning to meet their maker.
Pulling ropes from the sky.
Tugging roots from the earth.
Disturbing the delicate webwork beneath the ground.
Bits of bark, of soil, float mist-like above.

2011-10-28T10:52:00.001-07:00

I have friends: Saramago, Marquez, Anthony, Martin, Homer, Nabokov, Pullman, Asimov, Card, O'Connor, Plath, Freeman, Chekhov, Poe, Wilde..

I'm set for life.

2011-10-26T19:20:00.000-07:00

The lonely youth, filled with pride and dissent.
Slinking through alleyways hungry and unpronounced;
Golden rags tattered and torn hang from their translucent skin;
Carrying clubs laced with wires and circuits dancing around molested metal, encased in a synthetic unknown.
We're losing it.
We're all slipping away.
And these kings and queens of the void are waiting for their turn.
Hunched upon garbage cans, invincible, blood and chemicals unite to keep the beasts at bay.
Look at what we've done,
to ourselves, and to our children.

2011-10-24T22:49:00.000-07:00

My foot tap-tap-taps the hollow pine stretched beneath my feet.
"Ohhhhh, you're gonna lose you soul, tonight" he croons above me,
While I twist and twirl in the embrace of the moonlight.
My dress floats in tiers of lace undulating from the movement of my hips.
A darkness looms from the corners of the room,
slowly sinking
ever growing
and soon the room begins to glow.
Hot breathe snakes down my neck as he comes closer,
with his lips of fiery passion,
coming to scorch my neck,
to lay waste to my innocence.
I raise my hands up into the air.
When fire meets water, our skins collide.

2011-10-24T21:08:00.000-07:00

Hollowed vigilante, what does thou make of your heart of stone?
So carelessly given
So evenly flawed
This is what he said to me,
As his sword came crashing down.
Through my skull with a numbing pain,
So profound that even the Gods above could feel me tremble.
The Gods below began to weep,
hoping that I would join them soon.

"I'm roasting melons in the oven," she said as she looked at me through flame-scorched eyes.

2011-10-16T12:31:00.000-07:00

Substitutions.
Dancing on a thin wire above a crowd.
Their heads thrown back in a bout of laughter,
slits -like rivers parting land- flow down their cheeks.
I look for an end
but all I can see are the contractions of pink followed by raucous noise,
like a vast sea, undulating without the tranquility of azure.
A wave forms beneath me as the beasts grow inpatient,
growing in size and fury.
I stumble and sway as the world shakes around me,
but balance is impossible when the sense of fear is heightened.
The wave grows larger, boiling, recruiting new layers to hold its base,
but their efforts are in vain.
I slip, losing my footing and losing my faith in everything.
My hands reach for a hold but the wire is too thin, too sharp.
Void of hope, of happiness, I collide with the wave
with a shower of red following in my wake.
The sea stills with a slow rhythmic rumble and I am devoured.

mewithoutyou

2011-10-12T10:24:00.000-07:00

"If you're still looking for a blanket
Sweetie, I'm sorry, I'm no sort of fabric
But if you need a tailor
Then take your torn shirt, and stumble up my stairs
And mumble your pitiful prayers
And in your tangled night's sleep, our midnight needles go to work
Until all comfort and fear flows in one river
Down on the shelf by the mirror where you see yourself whole
And it makes you shiver" - Paper Hanger

I forgot how much I'd loved them.

2011-10-11T14:41:00.000-07:00

Dying
Is an art, like everything else.
I do it exceptionally well.

I do it so it feels like hell.

-Sylvia Plath, Lady Lazarus

2011-10-11T04:49:00.001-07:00

I have yet to meet my soul mate but do I want to? I'm at the point of my life where I'm tired of lacing my emotions and life with someone else.
Yet, I do want to meet that person. The one who challenges me.. physically. You know, De niro style - "you looking at me?" If I put too much creamer in the coffee, the eggs are bland, the bacon is not burnt to a crisp enough to break a tooth on, and we'll rough it out like two guidos outside of a Jersey nightclub wearing jumpsuits. No offense if you wear jumpsuits.

Sigh.

2011-10-10T14:34:00.001-07:00

by and by,
what's one soul to the world?

2011-10-07T14:25:00.000-07:00

Last night, I had a dream that I was on fire.

I was lying on my side with my face pressed into the mattress, half awake, medicated, sick, when I felt a figure sit next to me. I opened my eyes but there was nothing to see, yet I felt the weight of a body next to me, peering over me, turning my bones to solid steel and making me slip into sleep. I soon felt a hand on me, I don't remember where it had touched me, but with a small flicker of consciousness, I was out of the awake state of being and falling rapidly into sleep, literally. Flames blazed up from all around me, covering every inch of skin imaginable. Such powerful arms of fire rose up and flapped in the air, as my body became heavier, sinking, pulling me down, down, down into this abyss. It didn't burn nor hurt, but the sensation of breaking through mass at such force was alarming. I tried to wake myself up, but failed multiple times; wake up! I tried to twitch but my body was unresponsive, giving in to the rush of flames. Wake up! With an effort, I opened my eyes. Oh, heavy leaded eyes! -and it was gone. Everything. The rush, the being, the weight, and the flames. I looked around the room for something but my eyes only showed me what once was before I slept.

I sat up afraid to fall into sleep again, so soon. I did not want to feel that presence again. I did not want to burn, silently, again. So I kept myself awake lying on my back staring at the ceiling. Sleep crept up on me unaware and soon I was sprawled out like a running man, but this time he left me alone.

2011-10-06T19:08:00.000-07:00

Darius Twin, www.dariustwin.com.

2011-10-05T17:57:00.001-07:00

Hello. I've waited here for you.

2011-10-04T21:52:00.000-07:00

Debbie Macey, 2003. "Between the Bars" Elliot Smith

2011-10-03T20:26:00.000-07:00

An innocent smile barbed with razors protruding from swollen gums, dripping blood, falling from metal's end, erupting on soft, pink lips. Slivers of skin hang where metal and skin have met, momentarily, weeping with a pestilent pus.

Baby, you have the most beautiful smile.

2011-10-03T20:14:00.000-07:00

We know now that in the early years of the 20th century this world was being watched closely by intelligences greater than man's and yet as mortal as his own. We know now that as human beings busied themselves about their various concerns they were scrutinized and studied, perhaps almost as narrowly as a man with a microscope might scrutinize the transient creatures that swarm and multiply in a drop of water. With infinite complacence people went to and fro over the earth about their little affairs, serene in the assurance of their dominion over this small spinning fragment of solar driftwood, which by chance or design man has inherited out of the dark mystery of Time and Space. Yet across an immense ethereal gulf, minds that to our minds as ours are to the beasts in the jungle, intellects vast, cool and unsympathetic, regarded this earth with envious eyes and slowly and surely drew their plans against us. In the thirty-ninth year of the twentieth century came the great disillusionment. - Orson Welles, War of The Worlds broadcast, 30 Oct 1938

2011-09-19T15:43:00.000-07:00

(AP Photo/Bela Szandelszky, Dec. 12th, 2008, Greece.)

2011-09-19T15:20:00.000-07:00

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2011-09-19T15:08:00.001-07:00

Peter caught the bus that led him into the south front of the city, where he would buy some essentials and continue on his journey. A child sitting next to him on the bus leaned in with a dumb face and curiously poked Peter's rucksack.

"How many animals you kill to make that?" he asked in a slurring demeanor, simply curious.

Peter leaned back to assess the child with a quick eye, "just one" he said, as he threw the rucksack onto his back and stood to depart at the next stop. A vivid memory hit him as if it had happened moments ago. Joss had wanted children at one time, and he happily obliged seeing how happy the little ones made her. But it was not to be, naturally, for her, she could not conceive and the grieving was immense for the next couple of years. The pain of the memory made his heart sick for Joss, but there is no turning back, until the end. If I ever get there, he thought as the fear and the unknown began to take over.

The bus inched to a stop and Peter turned back to face the little, dumb boy, tipping his hat goodbye. As he did, the child smiled a toothless smile. He swatted at his nose, as if warding off a fly, and turned to look out the window.

"Rockford Fountain Square" chimed the bus driver as the doors opened to the bustling side walks and streets.

2011-09-19T14:43:00.000-07:00

"The moon is red and the sky is green, in the loneliest place you've ever been."

2011-09-15T21:54:00.000-07:00

The clock reads 2:13 am as I slink out of bed, weary, to make a call.
The phone is hollow and cold against my ear.
"Speak," says the voice into me.
"I'm sick," I say with a weak, cracked voice.
"East, 10th and Pine."
"Thank you, Doctor."
I pull on old and dirty clothing to cover my slim, pale body. My makeup is smudged from sleep but I need not care, with blurry eyes I make for the window and crack the silence with the outside world. I sneak out lithe like a cat, gliding, skimming down to the ground, missing the limbs of a nearby tree, clearing the yard to soar into the sky. I'm on my way toward sanity.

Five blocks short of my destination, I meet a ghost. He's telling me to turn back now, everyone is worried for me. "What do I care?" I snap as I fail to heed to his plea, walking through him, a jolt of ice suppresses the flow in my veins and slows me for an instant. A sharp pain begins to bloom in the center of my chest, where I've felt youth, beauty, and love before. I walk on looking back to see two figures watching me go.

I see a dark figure looming in the distance as I reach my destination. Blood flows down from the the collar of his shirt onto the chest. He's been busy tonight, I note.

"How long do you plan to stay?"
"Forever," I say as I extend my arms, tilting my head back with closed eyes as if kissing the stars were that easy.
"We've missed you, sweetling, they don't worry like we do," he speaks softly as he slides a silky hand down my neck, making me break into sweat with pleasure pulsing through my veins, igniting my skin. He produces a black pill held deftly between two fingers and places it like a gem onto my tongue. He leans in and kisses me wetly on the lips, as the pill dissolves, I shudder and begin to fall. I watch through death's eyes as he fades and I sink into the ground, falling, feeling, falling, sailing, I'm going home..

2011-09-15T21:39:00.001-07:00

The shimmering slue of the midnight sky produced a star that descended earth to fill the hearts of lonely men.

Don't let me fall asleep.

2011-09-15T21:28:00.000-07:00

Shapeless beings dance fractions in my head, reciting poetic epitaphs carved into my bed.
Casket Queen, frown for me. Smile only to show them my misery.

People popping pills. Slowly, the world will fade away, like the coating on your candy hearts.

Don't let me fall asleep.
I don't want to meet the gremlins, tonight.

Old demons meeting the new.

2011-09-15T21:17:00.000-07:00

I have been at a loss for words. My mind is unable to function let alone piece together anything coherent and useful. It craves that sweet, powdered sugar that tingles my brain and builds this beast inside of me. Domination is the beast's intentions. Vile is the beast's vocabulary. Destruction is the beast's trail. I'll waste my body, beast, but spare me my mind.. I wallow in the filth and comfort within my skull. Let me keep my imagination and dreams.

2011-09-11T21:08:00.001-07:00

I woke from a dream to find myself in a nightmare.
A prison within the confines of my skull.

the death of my iphone.

2011-09-10T20:32:00.000-07:00

I jumped onto the bandwagon, I'll admit as much. I once held such a fine piece of technology in the palm of my hand. I'm not one for the latest and greatest, believe me, I'm old fashioned only because I don't give a fuck. But, I started to. I wanted the world at my fingertips, for once, and I attained such through an Iphone. I personalized to my taste and was happy. Such power, or so I thought.

It's as if my clothes were torn off from my body to be replaced by one single jumpsuit. I wore this ugly, gray thing around unknowingly.. I was yet another one. I became lost in the capabilities of my phone and the quality at which I could converse so freely with the world. The faceless world. The print seemed to get smaller and smaller with each use of my phone, soon my face was glued to the screen absorbing everything and ignoring the world around me. All I wanted to do was jump around from content to content, killing boredom, entertaining my mind, conversing with witty drones I called my friends. My phone slipped from my hand and barreled toward the tiled ground, colliding with it face on. A loud CRACK whizzed through the air and for a moment I felt scared. The front screen had shattered from the impact and proved uncomfortable to use, lest I sit there and continuously pick out small shards of glass from my fingers. I was forced to set it aside and what confronted me was astonishing.

People are faceless in public. We have our own worlds to go home to and we care so little about things outside of our world. Tell me, when has a stranger's voice soothed you or a smile made your day? How the fuck would you know? You're too busy looking at your phone.. This small, mechanical entity that is distracting everyone from the bigger picture. Maybe I just need a change of atmosphere, but I wanted to wretch. I wanted to gouge my eyes out at the sight of so many beings hunchback over their phones, ignoring the world, and shutting themselves further away from society. Granted, not everyone lets their phones take over their lives but it's all too easy to let that happen.

One night, after many beers and disgusted autopsies of the depersonalization of human interaction due to cell phones, I sat in front of my bathroom toilet ready to hurl. Ow, too many beers, my stomach ached for liberation and yet something else.. I wanted to be liberated. I wanted to slip into the void, unable to be reached, a mystery, a lone shark so be it. I took my phone and held it above the open lid. "Can you swim?" I asked it with a slur. It stared back at me innocently. As I blinked back tears, the shattered screen lit up with a text message. I could care less. I didn't want this. All of this. I want things to go back to how they were when people gained so much from human contact, from smiles and greetings, from interest in the people that inhabit this world. My hand unfurled as the phone slipped into the bowl making a deep, quick thud as it sank to the bottom. The screen lit up for one last time and was snuffed out for good. In an instant, I felt whole. I felt alive. I felt sick and that's when the beers decided to come up. The water in the bowl soon became a blur of vomit and my phone was lost to me for good.

Now, I see the world. I see everything ugly and beautiful and it pains me. I wonder where people are going and what they are doing. I long to know what makes the world tick, but I feel as if I'll be highly disappointed if I find out.. But most of all, I am apart of this world once more.

We're growing in numbers.

2011-09-08T20:59:00.001-07:00

Young sickle fledgling look at how you stumbled from the womb on two legs made of yarn.

Warmth radiated -not only from the flickering candle upon the wooden table that we gathered around, but also from our tongues as we shared our memories of home. We threw our heads back and howled at the moon with passion lulling beneath our tongues and strength in our lungs. The cold crept through small cracks within the frame of the dirty windows, with gusto, threatening to stifle the flame. But we burn. Burn. Burn on.

2011-08-28T20:20:00.001-07:00

such dark, dark monsters stirring inside of me.

put those hands away

2011-08-28T15:26:00.000-07:00

A scratch in the surface, what is the purpose?
And if I could open wounds and unravel scars, I'd do a pretty number on you.
I feel trapped.
I kneel before the King, I have nothing for you, he says, slamming his scepter down, a look of heavy dismissal pulling on his brow. The walls begin to close in as I'm pulled from his grace's presence. No. Please hear me. Phantoms of misery cast down from the ceiling, bound for my heart, my flesh, what little hope for humanity that I have left and it's gone, within a moment, not even a moment because that exercises a flick of consciousness from the mind to own some state of being, a sense of self, but I had none, no time to gasp, to throw my hands up to shield myself, to cry, to run, to plead, anything. If hopelessness was a physical entity that could fill a room everyone would choke on it. They would all fall to their knees, asphyxiated, with pain and confusion contorting the features on their face. In my decomposing state, I would hear their shrieks and cries, whatever could escape their mouths, and I will smile because now they know how I feel. Yet, I am for the better, I will stand upon their corpses after I pile them high. I will throw my arms up towards the stars and ask for the brightest spotlight to show the world what I have done..

Desire for chaos.

2011-08-24T16:56:00.000-07:00

Sleeping children weaving dreams of honeysuckle and games of chase through the small world that they call home. "Come play with us," shouts a little, blond girl with more authority than she cares to question. "I won't play your little game, but I know a better one," I say with an urge at curiosity and a wan smile. That's it. Yes. I've got them. I see their faces light up as if the city behind me has suddenly gone to flames, reflected in their eyes, and that's what I intend to do..

2011-08-16T19:42:00.001-07:00

Put me back gently, just where you found me.

2011-06-16T17:02:00.000-07:00

I was born in the wrong century.

2011-05-11T18:00:00.000-07:00

I can't take anything seriously.

I watch people sitting motionless behind the wheel of a car, bidding it to do their will - accelerate, brake, turn, follow a car obnoxiously close.. I have to laugh at it because the image and very nature of it seems so stupid. We've got this brilliant structure called a human body and legs that were created specifically to take us places, yet the average person spends most of their time not using them! Is that painful to anyone else? It makes me sick. Not necessarily the laziness, carelessness or so on but the sheer fact that they don't care! Do your body good. Care for the one thing that you own that will do you anything meaningful.

I wish I could be just like them, able to feed the bullshit and triumph from the game. All of these silly, mundane, almost pathetic social interactions like textbook that we keep ourselves tied to. I'm so sick of it all.

It has been raining for seven months.. Any means to an end is starting rear it's lovely head, while batting those long lashes and seducing me with a sideways stare. Oh, come here my lovely! - Anything to numb the pain, to stop the gray and to make it all go away!

A door opens in the molecules of oxygen before me. An apparition, perhaps? A way out, hopefully? A painful death, possibly? I'm through that door without a single glance behind me..

I just hope there is..

2011-04-27T10:15:00.000-07:00

My last two posts sound so angst-ridden. I apologize, I guess.
Sometimes I just don't see the point of anything.
I feel as if I've tripped and have stumbled off the path that is 'normal'.
I can't put up with the bullshit.
I need to isolate myself.
I can't laugh at your meaningless joke.

I'm turning to my creative side to help aid me through this misery.
Photo projects to come - after I find a new place to live.

2011-04-21T20:02:00.000-07:00

In truth, I hate that I was ever born..

2011-04-21T18:47:00.000-07:00

Life should be lived for all of the momentary tastes of happiness.
Fuck your money.
Fuck your career.
Fuck your material possessions.
Taste the earth - dance, dance - make music and smile.
Befriend the child in you and grow old together.
Drink wine and be merry.

Seriously.

Fuck you, the one who tells me to stay in line and how to live.
Humans were never meant to be so disconnected.
The modern world, I hate you so-very fucking much.

Dream One.

2011-03-31T11:40:00.000-07:00

I'm sitting in a room. It's small and unfamiliar but something about the confinement is comforting and I am at ease. The walls are a simple beige; nothing is stark in the room, all flowing together as my eyes scan the room and jump from item to item in perfect harmony. I have the sense that I am at the beach, but the window is too far away and the peace I feel is too strong to rouse me.

Moments later, the simple wooden door opens as my older brother walks into the room. "You can't just stay in here all day! -We're under attack!" He vents through tight set lips and heavy lungs. Under attack? But, that doesn't make sense.. I look down at my arm and see my veins pulsing underneath my pale skin. Tiny spikes like budding seeds poke from my skin, as if my veins are growing limbs and leaving me. The little limb zig-zags in curls as it finds its way through the air. My brother watches with content from the swaying doorway. His body is motionless and his face is void of expression. Hollow comes to mind. If I were to open the window, I would assume his body would just tip over from a gust of wind. How menacing that he should leave me now.

Within minutes, a swarm and tangle of veins have wrapped my body and the air around me. I resemble a blue tangle of sagebrush sitting on a plain bed, yet I am still at ease.. Like this was meant to happen. There is movement in the room as my brother regains himself and walks over to the mess that is me. He places his hands near my face and parts the swarming veins like parting the silky curtains of a window. My solemn face is revealed. I blink and look at him with heavy eyes. I am tired, I say, let the war run it's course. I must sleep.

2011-03-16T14:29:00.001-07:00

The spring is inching closer and closer.
Flowers are beginning to poke out from their winter nests, shyly blushing, somewhat hesitant.
But, please we need you! I coo softly touching delicate petals of sakura.

I really can't wait until the sun comes out.
The heat.
The happiness.
The adventures and more to come.

Midnight Hour

2011-02-27T13:25:00.000-08:00

The ward I am housed in has the means of vaccinating everyone against the nightmare that is to ensue at the stroke of midnight. This is not a Cinderella tale, so I advice the weary and weak to turn your heads now and walk on --do not read further. The vaccination is through a painful blood infusion. As the nurse empties the syringe into my arm, a wave of nausea and pain envelopes me.
I try my best to fight unconsciousness and succeed only slightly on my own. My heart begins to gallop inside of my chest and I'm forced to slow my breathing in order to calm the beast inside of me. As I begin to slip away, giving in to the pain and sleep, the nurse sticks a small brick of substance in front of my face. The impact of the smell, much like sulfuric acid, invades my senses and I shoot up like a rocket into a sitting stance. I'm awake. I'm alive. Is it over? What is this?

"Wash yourself with this, use all of it, it will numb the pain of tonight."

"Thank you," I say as I look at the bandage adhered to my arm. It has begun, I think as I carry myself to my hall on shaky legs. I walk past Blue, a pure-bred American Bulldog, lounging on a pillow beside the Administrator's doorway; one of the many canines that reside within this structure's walls. My legs come to a halt as I watch the slumbering chest rise and fall, the essence of life flowing through this little beast's body--my mind envisions the ravenous look in Blue's eyes as he rips my arm to shreds with his powerful teeth. My withering flesh falling in chunks, splattering the ground with crimson and fear. My ghastly screams are muted by so many others drifting through the ward.

I cringe and force myself back to reality, clutching the brick of soap tightly.
The clock reads 6:04 p.m.
I hurry onward.

I undress amidst a cloud of steam and the dulcet chorus of water dripping onto tile and down pipework. I let my day time rags fall to the ground, where gentle drops of water soon devour, changing the hue a shade darker. I watch nervously as the cotton gives way to the moisture --much like blood seeping from an open wound. Soon there will be blood everywhere; no inch of cotton will be able to resist. Rubbing the soap over my body has the similar effect as Tiger Balm, my eyes begin to swell and water. The suds send a ripple throughout my muscles as if calming them with a soothing backhand. It'll be alright. You'll be okay. Be calm, be well. Over and over until the last of it has melted away under the water. The timer has gone off and my shower ceases but I do not move. I cannot move until I watch every bit of water disappear down the drain.

I am quick to harness my fear as I dress in my night time clothes, drawing the string on my pant taut and tying it in a knotted bow. On my way to my dorm I am stopped by Miss Lianna as she makes her way to the showers, carrying more towels.

"Emily, doll, be a dear and give the others a bit of a heads up as to what to expect. I prey you'll do that for me. I am a bit overwhelmed with duties at the mome--" her words trail off as she continues to walk, in haste. I give her back an obedient nod as she disappears around the corner. Oh great! Me, the bearer of bad news. I reach for the handle and walk sullenly into my room.

"Em!" shouts Mary as she throws her hand into the air to greet me, "and I thought big Blue had eaten you already!" she smiles even though I can't help but frown.

"Not yet, at least" I retort as I eye the other girls above me looking around the room for solace.

I see little legs dangling from beds. The room bunks about fifteen girls all suspended ten to twenty feet above the ground in hammocks --to avoid menacing night critters. To strangers, these beds prove to be dangerous but we've mastered the art of walking the thin rail in between beds with a graceful ease. I'm up the ladder and next to Mary who has the bed closest to the door.

"I had to.." she says when she sees the stern look on my face. I continue to climb the ladder, feeling the cold metal against my skin --a dull sensation, due to, I suspect, the soap. I've always enjoyed the climb to bed. The biting cold aching my skin as I slink into bed, melting it all away with layers of wool. This time the dullness lingers, such as wool cannot melt away. I lean gravely over my bed and call out to the girls below.

"So.." I cough to clear my voice, gaining the masses attention. Small, curious eyes look upon me. "We've all received the inoculation, which means we'll all be alright in the end,"

Mary climbs into Tesh's bed to comfort her, wrapping a thin arm around the little girl.

"But as everyone knows by now that tonight is the night of our beasts betrayal. It cannot be avoided. It's like clockwork and unfortunately, we're affected the most." My throat has become uncommonly dry and it's like rubbing sandpaper together when I swallow.

"Will it hurt?" asks little Lilly as she clutches her pillow too tightly.

"It will hurt, the soap should help slightly but the inoculation does not protect against pain. This will most likely be the most painful night you will ever experience--"

"Why not lock them all inside of a room?" shouts a girl across the room.

"Because there are far worse creatures than the dogs out there! What do you think they're here to protect us from, huh?" Bites Mary.

"Mary is right. Without the dogs the night critters have nothing to hold them back now. Our biggest concern is them." I pause to rub my shoulder for comfort.

-- to be continued --

Idle hands.

2011-02-22T21:18:00.000-08:00

I feel so disconnected from everything.
You know that overused scene in movies where it shows someone standing still in the middle of a rushing crowd. Well, that's me right now. The world and everything in it is spinning around me at an ungodly nauseating speed, while I am idle, staring towards the horizon scouting out dust molecules. I don't know. I want to wake up. I want to feel normal again.
On the bright side, things are slowly improving. Slowly moving forward. Slow. Slow.
I am contributing blood into the massive black hole known as the pharmaceutical industry. I hate that I've turned to medication to alleviate the pain and emptiness, but it's working when I didn't have the strength to perform the alternatives.

"A troubled mind = pharmaceutical gold mine"

Good-bye To You.

2011-02-10T22:37:00.000-08:00

Past the point of no return, the final threshold.
The bridge is crossed so stand and watch it burn.

..And I'll be waving my hand watching you drown,
watching you scream, quiet or loud.

Both set of lyrics best depict my life, right now.
I wish painful affliction upon the jealous.
Your kind make the world obnoxiously vapid.

(Lyrics taken from "Point of No Return" by Andrew Llyod Webber and "Clumsy" by Our Lady Peace. Both songs warrant appreciation.)

[Untitled]

2011-02-08T00:51:00.000-08:00

I've done it again; I've angered the queen. Here she comes stomping through the flower beds, kicking up the flora and moss; her face contorted with rage; temples pulsing like the sparks of a fuse, getting closer towards the explosion --closer towards me. In my ignorance, I've done it again. I've angered her so, but what have I done? She spits a lattice of words in my direction that swarm around my fragile neck, wrapping around and pulling taut. She dances in place to the words of her control and power, swinging her arms up into the air--

I close my eyes.
Darkness; an infinite abyss before me.
A comforting silence impregnates my ears.
What do I feel? Courage, fear, ecstasy?

"Open your eyes."

Alarmed, I obey. The darkness is broken with a scenery of a vast expanse of exposed rocks and plains. It's dusk and a subtle pink swims throughout the sky, colliding with the ominous black of the oncoming, nighttime sky. I take a breath. The queen is gone. I take another deep breath, superficially, out of selfishness but choke when I see my summoner. Standing before me in a well-tailored wool suit, a wolf with a proud look and a keen knowledge in his eyes. What do I feel? Awe, fretful, enchanted?

"Welcome home," the wolf deftly speaks and extends a paw toward me.

I reach to meet it with a cold hand, slowly warming with elation. With a strong paw, he pulls me closer linking an arm through mine while taking me off to explore the scene. A peaceful, rhythmic rumble vibrates from his chest as we walk together into the dark; the stars are brightest companions; the sky an ocean of beauty and calm.

"Are you my lover?" I ask with a gracious tone.
"I am not."
"Are you a foe?" my muscles tense as I idle in the path.
"If I may be so kind to grant you a little clarity and relaxation with a simple explanation. I am your watchman, my dear. I am the safe-keeper of your world. I make sure any and all unwanted souls are never to pass," he says as he brings me close, kissing me gently on the forehead, sending a ripple of warmth throughout my body.

We continue to walk in silence as the stars bathe us in spotlight.

"I'll miss you when I wake up," I say as we walk into the heart of the world that I have created.

I don't want these memories.

2011-02-05T03:38:00.001-08:00

My mind has been dwelling in the past, as of late. I do not have the strength to get it out in one piece. It hurts to realize all of the things that went wrong; how helpless I was in the past, as a fragile, little girl.

I remember quiet vividly the time my father went insane, my mother ran away, and my brother failed to protect me. My best friend involuntarily collided with the back door, the thick glass shattered as if to tell us that something was horribly wrong (with us all).

A steak knife is jabbed into the Devil's palm, and I laugh as I watch him bleed. I laugh and laugh until a hand closes around my neck and my head begins to swim with a familiar heaviness. I close my eyes with a exerted grin while a stream of blood runs down my face. This is going to hurt the next day.

I can't apologize for the things that went wrong. I always watched, mostly too scared to move. I prayed to God for a better life, but my pleas were rejected, ignored, lost in transmission. Cease communication! Let this girl be damned!

I hide things too well; try to find them. You never will.

Unknown title.

2011-01-16T21:40:00.000-08:00

I don't want to exist any more; I want to drive this fork -that I'm holding- into my eye, twisting it around and around, gathering more flesh and blood around its tongs. Pain and fear will begin to pulse rapidly through my nerves and veins. Welcome home! I will say to myself. Into the dark! -Let's rejoice! Weep wounds weep! Rid yourself of this putrid body! Go, be free!

I can't let him stay. He's going to leave me, only because he has something better to offer this world. I have nothing. Nothing but sad little words, a fake smile, and a weakening ambition to experience life, the universe and everything.

I think I need help. Although, I don't know what anyone can do for me. I'm the only one that can help myself and I seem to be lost in the woods. It's approaching dusk and darkness is about to open its sleep-encrusted eyes. In my idleness, during Darkness' nighttime games, my feet grew roots that dug deep into the ground. I struggle with sanity in this reality of mine. I need my saner half but she's nowhere to be seen. I hear her crying out to me.. Softly.. And she's gone until I lay myself down to slumber. -That's when the voices come. I dream of trees; of dirt and the open sky. I need to find her. I'm preparing myself for what is to happen next.

If I die in the woods, keep me there. Do not bring me back to this meaningless jungle, with all these haggard faces and repulsive noises.

This is why I hate shrimp.

2011-01-13T23:44:00.000-08:00

Condolences, my putrid prince.

2011-01-09T17:04:00.000-08:00

Expired manifestations of what once was --treasured, life --long lost and forgotten, placed before you is a single wilting rose. Its' petals yearning for something gold. Something bold. Something to make its' young veins feel anew. Shriveling, as of now, beyond repair. --Look at what you've done! Its thorns gasp stiff and protruding and remains the only life this flower will ever know.

Please.. I plead with blurred eyes to the moonlight, to the stars, to the towering figure above me. I cannot go on, this reality is to much for me, not enough for me. I dream of something bigger. A heaviness grows in my veins as two droplets slide down my cheeks with a purpose. The looming figure shudders a sympathetic bow. He leans in to me and places his lifeless lips upon my quivering brow. I sigh, a thankful sigh, a pleasured sigh, as a tinge of ice shoots through my nerves. Thank you, I gasp into the stirring wind, as my body goes limp and falls to the ground to move no more.

Thoughts: collective.

2011-01-06T20:18:00.000-08:00

The gentle slope of a growth in progress. The fragility of newly acquired hair, bound by an elastic band; dark drapes for lashes, open and close, revealing a set of curious, golden eyes that are fixed on me. I have a moment, here, sitting across from this fragile, little girl as the train rocks my body, gently, side to side. Your innocence frightens me, I think to myself. A frown becomes my main expression, as if the world has been placed upon my lap.

Sleep deprived to feel something, anything, that takes you away from reality, the norm. The normal. What is normal.. Stuck inside this crypt-like skin. Let me out, please! Let me out!

Colors and shades. It's safer on the bottom.

I feel evil, angry. Something awful must have spilled; dripping itself onto me as I walked unguarded through the streets. Seeping into my skin and toiling through my bloodstreams, making my smile fade and my eyes squint like two slits; eyes of a maddened bull.

Balloons dance elegantly with the wind; a tango that we're not meant to understand. One, two, three.. One, two, three..--look! They're dancing!

"It's wide, open and free like you want to be. Up in the clouds, nothing is loud."

Once Upon A Time

2011-01-06T18:33:00.001-08:00

Footage from Sender Films. First Ascent, Dean Potter.
"Dying to flying"

..

2010-12-12T08:10:00.000-08:00

What did my lover say, Mister mail man? Mister hot-shot know-it-all! Saunter over to me with that heavy gift bag. Tip toe over those feathered lone spires of green, to me! -Alas, alas. My blood boils with anticipation, reverberating spasms of ecstasy from cell to spine, from shingle to concrete, shaking the confines of my body -this silly, elastic skin. Nothing today, Ma'am, he says as he tips his awkward hat atop his dapper, sun-kissed face. Galloping past me, neighing almost in mockery, as he spindles his web throughout the neighborhood.

Excerpt from Lolita.

2010-12-11T16:41:00.000-08:00

This daily headache in the opaque air of this tombal jail is disturbing, but I must persevere. Have written more than a hundred pages and not got anywhere yet. My calender is getting confused. That must have been around August 15, 1947. Don't think I can't go on. Heart, head-everything. Lolita, Lolita, Lolita, Lolita, Lolita, Lolita, Lolita, Lolita, Lolita, Lolita. Repeat until the page is full, printer..

Dying, dying, Lolita Haze, of hate and remorse, I'm dying. And again my hairy fist I raise, and again I hear you crying.

Four Minutes.

2010-11-25T22:24:00.000-08:00

Up to their ears.
Up to their necks.
It's for the curious.
It's for the hopeful.

I'm stuck in a song. A simple yet beautiful song, with eerie notes circling my senses --tap, tapping something melodic against my skin. It brings me in with a steady drum, as if looking into my eyes with a sideways glance. I'm hypnotized, something bigger lingers just beneath its surface. Two notes on a boisterous guitar jump into the dance, hooking its' long, mysterious fingers around my waist. It twirls me 'round and around as I sink deeper in to. I close my eyes as the organ daunts its haunting lament and I'm completely lost in pleasure as the notes molest my every sense. Too soon and it's over. My eyes open and I am alone.

Leave the road.
Follow the path.

Winter.

2010-11-24T12:55:00.000-08:00

A whimsical dance, my lover and I, through snow flurries and frozen leaves, plastered to the ground in their autumn coats--radiating beauty with an effervescent, orange glow. Through parks and buildings we dance, hands entwined, eyes glazed, and hearts ablaze. Oh, starry, winter night do your worst! For I have his arms to keep me warm!

Sad, satin doll.

2010-11-16T15:59:00.000-08:00

Tick, tock-tick, tock--make it stop! Stop the noise, she screams as her agitation vibrates through her chest, sending a rumble throughout the room. Jelly man saunters over to her, coming up from behind. His jelly hands slide down her sides, silencing her anger while turning her cheeks a bright shade of pink. The noise is too much, she whines as she twists her feet together--his jelly hands crawl into her young lap--open palms against taut skin. Sing a song for me, the Jelly man says to her, crooning softly into her ear. Her eyelids grow heavy and are pulled together into a close, to ward off the world before her; her legs relax as they are pulled apart.. She begins to hum a verse from her favorite song.

Restless, on fire.

2010-11-03T17:16:00.000-07:00

I ache with the dire need for change, a big bang, so to speak, to erupt and shake myself from the dull gallows of normality. Let's try something new this winter. Let's see how much trouble one little girl can get into.

Another Dream.

2010-10-09T13:24:00.000-07:00

We are two crabs, basking in the still, deep waters of the ocean, entwined in a cuddle of limbs, shell, and warmth as the current moves peacefully around us. Looking down on us, in this moment, I'm imagining a slow-turning music box twinkling a tune that calms the heart and warms the blood, in all its simplistic beauty. My sleep has graced me, finally, with a pleasant dream.

A sense of pride comes over me as I think of my favorite spot in the ocean. My clumsy claw reaches for yours as I encourage you to rouse from relaxation. Claw in claw, we slowly make our way to shallow water, where a large rock juts from the ocean floor. The sun's rays bathes the top of the rock as it sits just feet from the surface. I look at you and look around us. This is what happi-- I blink and I am alone, human, kneeling on hot sand overlooking a vast savanna. Slow, rhythmic rumbles fill my ears as I take in the massive creature laying en masse before me; a pride of lions napping the fierce sun away.

My heart fumbles and forgets its sole purpose, slipping and skipping, unevenly, within my breast. Where are you? What happened to us? A slow and steady change in the breeze slips me out of my self pity. The rumbling harmony of sleeping lions begin to stumble as, no doubt, their nostrils have sensed my stench; my pores releasing fear induced perspiration, warm blood flowing violently through my veins, giving life to my tender muscles and limbs, my breath becoming more rapid as I watch these furry bodies stir before me.

Two females quickly pounce to their feet and begin circling me, clearly hunting, anticipating a kill. I am done for. I am alone. I slowly turn to face the sea, looking for you, whom I've left below the surface, in peace. I sink to my knees in despair. The waves lick the sand before me in a gentle routine. The water's surface sparkles like a million hidden gems in a lover's eyes-- I am thrown onto my side-- a flock of migrating birds skim the distant surface of the sea, squawking in unison and familiarity as they keep hope for their arrival afar-- a piercing sensation wraps my neck as a swelling pain begins to pulsate. Everything comes to a halt, slowly spinning in place, as I close my eyes with the beauty of the sea still imprinted on my mind.

End of Summer.

2010-09-24T17:52:00.000-07:00

It's abnormally quiet outside, on the streets of my neighborhood, at this time of day. The weather is at its finest and I'm sitting with my chin resting on the back of the couch, staring out of the window smudged with grime. My eyes are locked on a rose bush across the street in an estranged neighbor's yard. It towers high above the nearby shrubs, screaming with its' ragged appearance, the need for a trim, or for any sort of attention whatsoever. A fly slowly makes its way across the dirty glass just inches away from my eyes. The fly's movements resemble a mechanic of some sorts, like the inner workings of a clock; little spasms or twitches of movement that slowly but surely bring it across my plain of view. Yet, the fly is not the focus. My eyes are still trained on the rose bush. A black dot only slinks across and disappears.

What am I looking at?

Nothing.

A rose bush.

I finally blink, after who knows how long, when a little girl frolics through my sight. Her hair is a mess as she looks around, pulls down her dirty shorts, and squats right next to the rose bush that I have been molesting with my gaze. Like some barbarian, she looks around as if scouting for authority of some sorts, and to her success she is alone. A stream of piss escapes between her twig of legs, her bare bottom just inches from the dirt, she finishes and jumps to her feet while pulling her shorts up. She hops a few steps and runs off to the other side of the house, yelling, as if continuing the game she never left. The piss that never happened. The rose bush gazes longingly after the girl, and then down at the steaming pile of piss in the dirt.. Its first act of affection all week.

:poke:

2010-09-19T12:58:00.000-07:00

A realization, a heavy fog that has been lifted.
I wander the paths laid out in my head and the paths across this land.
One way or another, I walk alone and I will come to an end.
There, I will be forced to make a decision at a halt, ending my existence as a wanderer.

For years I have felt so hallow, so void of emotion. But today I sit here with absolutely nothing to do, and I'm thankful for the times that I carry too much upon my back. I've realized that I am full to the brim with emotions. I go day to day ignoring how much I feel for the sake of my sanity. If I stop to wonder, I just might tip over and spill. Today, I'm overflowing. I feel so much right now that everything hurts. My hands tingle with longing, my chest aches with love, and my head is swimming with highs and lows. My legs ache from the burden I put upon them on a daily basis. I wasn't hoping for this, nor did I really see any of this, but I am open to it and I am accepting it.

Today, I will lay in my bed and imagine where you are. Sitting beside you on your adventure. I'll read and become restless, entwining my hands through handfuls of bedsheets, imagining your fingers laced through mine. I could do something to keep my mind distracted, but I won't because I like the way you make me feel.

I miss you.

The Devil's Tears

2010-09-06T10:05:00.000-07:00

"He said I am the Devil Boy
Come with me and we'll make many storms
He offered me the universe but inside my heart there's a picture of a girl
Some call love a curse some call love a thief but she's my home
And she's as much a part of this broken heart see broken bones always seem to mend

I'll taste the Devil's tears
Drink from his soul but I'll never give up you
I'll taste the Devil's tears
Drink from his soul but I'll never give up you"

Angus and Julia Stone.

Me, I'm a thief.

2010-08-10T20:41:00.000-07:00

A man extends his coarse and age-battered hand to me, while I walk the filthy streets of my hometown. The filth has been masked with flower beds, long legs, and youth. "Please," he begs but has not the heart to push me further. Shame crawls across his brow as he lowers his hand and eyes with a heaviness that I have never known. The man assumes a cowering stances as I slowly reach out my hand to him, entranced I take a few steps forward, bringing my hungry hand closer to him. His "please.." turn into pleas as his tattered feet begin to stagger back, one after the other, drawing him back against a brick wall. There is something in his eyes, far beyond pain and desperation, something that I've never known, I crave. This man is far from innocent and has seen many years of suffering, but also a love for something..

My pale eyes glaze as my arm stiffens, extended, my fingers glide across his trembling chin, through scruff and dirt-- skin upon skin that ignites a spark. I creep forward bringing my face just inches from his. His stench of grime and gutters fills my senses and tickles my nose.

"Please.. Please.. No more.."

I feel his hot, sticky breath brush gentle gusts against my lips. My fingers curl through knots of hair on the back of his head. I bring his pleading lips to mine, hungry, aroused, unforgiving.. A kiss. His body relaxes after a fit of tense convulsions. His skin begins to wither and turns to ash before me, gently flaking away as the wind blows. Five more seconds and he is reduced to fragments floating in the wind. My hand falls to my side as my fingers restlessly drum a tune against my thigh.

A surge of agony hits me; a despair so profound that is aimed at the human race; the strongest feeling of pride and wealth; a love for the smallest gestures; shame for the things I've done; blessings for the warmth of the sun; a venomous guilt for the pain that I've caused.. I sink to my knees as his emotions flow through me; the most human of us all, I have become..

Tongues and needles.

2010-07-11T02:24:00.000-07:00

Silently wandering.
This place could be heaven.

Stepping stones littered upon a burning land, casting shadows where there is no sun. The burnt limbs of dead trees creek eerie tunes in a poisonous wind. Boulders placed upon boulders, laugh at me from the other side. Grime encrusted mouths flap with disdain, telling me that I'll never find paradise with those heavy feet of yours. Everything around me shakes and breaks, unwinding at its fragile seams, unfolding like a budding seed.

Cry, cry, cry, whine, whine, whine.
One day I will die and leave nothing behind..

Into The Dark.

2010-07-01T17:17:00.000-07:00

Confusion lingers and mottles my thoughts.
I'm not sure that I like this anymore.
I'm not sure that I want anyone to know me.

What if I walk into the mountains and never come back?

Speculation.

2010-06-26T16:14:00.000-07:00

I'm sitting in a chair that is too big for me. Its blood red, vinyl skin feels cold against my exposed legs. I throw my arms onto the table as my fingers search the surface for something to play with. This is weird. This situation that I'm in. I don't know if I want to explain, but considering why I'm here, I feel that an explanation is needed. Things like this should not happen, I think to myself as he walks through the front door, slinking into the bar and making his way to my table. I'm not happy to see him so my face produces a half-ass smile. Good evening, he says with a smirk, tilting his head slightly. Good evening. Yeah, this place is hip.. If you're forty-five, which he is and that's when I feel the wave of nausea bubbling through my veins. He sits in my booth taking the chair across from me. He seems to fit the chair. Damn. At this, I seem to slouch, sinking further into my chair, looking like a frail little girl. Well, it's good to see you, did you find the place alright? He chirps in a soothing way, his tone wavering slightly as if he can't tell which mood to convey. I found it alright. I say, peeking above a menu at him, trying to distract myself from looking his way. But I can't look at this menu forever and I already know what I want. So, I suck up my nausea and unease and release the curiosity within me. With narrowed, cautious eyes I lower the menu and confront him with my full attention. He's resting his chin in his hand, pushing up his cheek in an unattractive way. His hand is littered with freckles as they spill down his wrist and onto his forearm. Holy shit, he has a lot of freckles, they keep going and going up his arm and to his -okay, I really don't want to continue this so I throw my gaze around the room. My mouth mumbles something that fills the silence between us, but you know, means absolutely nothing and I couldn't give less of a shit about. Yeah, so what do you like to do when you're not working? He mumbles through his hand awkwardly. I have to think for a moment, because I don't know what I like to do. I just do whatever pleases me at the time. I could enjoy something one day, in one type of mood and hate it the next. So I ponder while I click my tongue on the roof of my mouth. click, click, click. I notice his eyes as they read hunger. All my friends were right about his intentions. I know this. Don't think I don't fucking know this. I roll my eyes as I shake off an unwanted thought. I like to write, I say in a voice that's much too low to be my normal voice. Ahem. I swallow and clear my throat. Oh, cool. What kind of writing? He throws back instantly, trying to sound very interested. I don't know. I say as I shrug. It always changes nor have I given it too much thought. I write what I feel and I write what I see. -How are you two doing today? The waitress butts in with a bubbly demeanor. Hello. I sink lower in my chair. Doing well, doing well, you? He says lifting his face from his hand to give the bubblegum drop, lemon head waitress a warming welcome. Doing well thank you, now what will you two be drinking tonight? Her shadowed eyes pierce mine searching for a friendly fire. I sit up, slightly warmed by her presence, hoping she won't go away. I'll have a Coke, please. I lace my fingers together and look up into his eyes. For a second they look confused. The waitress turns her head. And you? I'll have a rusty nail, please and thank you. She smiles and hops off to fulfill my wishes and desires, hopefully not his. So, that sounds interesting. Are you any good? He asks, making me aware that he's not an artist and most likely not someone I'd get along with. I'm awful. I say with a smirk, laughing at everything for a second. A Coke is placed in front of me. My hands hastily pull it closer, straw in mouth, sucking down carbonated corn syrup and artificial coloring. I look up as he chuckles at my answer, clearly amused. Sure you are. He continues with his awkward chuckling.

Mt. Shasta Summit!

2010-06-16T17:28:00.000-07:00

A 360 view of Mt. Shasta's summit, 14,162 feet.

(If viewing through facebook, link will not show, click here to view.)

Summer Project:

2010-06-10T08:37:00.000-07:00

The Human Story Project: A collective of short, detailed biographical information on various strangers, friends, and family.
Questions to be answered: from basic, creative, historical, character analysis, philosophical.

I've realized that I want to get to know the world; I want to see what people live for..
My goal is one story a week.

:) Stay tuned..

Another Daydream.

2010-05-28T10:19:00.000-07:00

A windowless room is where I have found myself. A gentle sound wallows through the walls. I press my brain against the confines of my skull and listen with a curious ear. It's telling me to forget everything I know.. I am but a little girl with so much to learn. My body keeps me from becoming all that I can be. I stagger away from the wall with dizziness dripping from my pores. Staggering and slipping on multicolored beads of sweat pooling on the ground. A plain, brown bird darts at my face, knocking me down as I become parallel with the ground, a wave of panic swimming through me as my heart pounds violently inside of my chest. The bird flies clumsily into corners, spilling feathers as it tries to escape. Thwap, tweet, clunk, tweet. I cover my ears. The despair I feel is immense, knotting inside of my stomach and sliding up my throat. With a final collision with the wall, the bird drops to the ground, still, dead, free. The pressure of the room lightens as if someone has opened a window. I force a deep swallow and climb to my feet, hands still connected for balance, I slide around in a crawl searching for this window. Searching for a way out. "Forget everything you know" bounces from ear to ear as I try to make sense of everything. I come face to face with a wall. My body stiffens, my reflection stares back at me, young, scared, pitiful little girl, "you can never leave." I feel my body wrapped up by something unknown, taut around my skin, drawing me closer towards the wall. I press my face against the cold, solid surface and stare.. I see forever beyond the walls. Forever, and everything that I want beyond this cage. Everything beautiful dances for me, waving their limbs in invitation for me. "Come play with us!" They seem to sing as iridescent orbs leap from tree to tree, illuminating foliage and color. Engrossed, I press my face harder against the wall, greedy and envious of this outside world. A pressure begins to grow behind my eyes but is easily ignored as a flower blooms in front of me. Its golden petals radiating beauty as dew glistens in its folds and pores. In a moment, the pressure takes a hold of me and turns to blackness. A blackness that spills over my eyes and body, severing my sight and feeling. An emptiness fills my body, so empty that it hurts. My body stiffens and goes limp at the same time, crashing to the ground with a horrid sound.

I am still, dead, free.

Lost in the places I've been.

2010-05-23T13:39:00.000-07:00

The constant drip-drop sound of water coming from the ceiling wakes a beauty from her sleep. Once again, another day with her own worst enemy, reality. The pills from the prior night, worn off, leaving her with a throbbing desire to drive a piece of broken glass into her skull. The thought of death is merely a minor comfort to her; she fears the thought of leaving something interesting behind. So, she ignores the headache with a smirk and a twinkle in her eye as she grabs her journal and a pen, jumping out of bed and out the door. Leaving her home in the same clothes as yesterday.

She walks, dragging her feet across age old pavement, destination unknown -whatever calls her name. The daylight kisses her face softly, pulling her out of sleep and darkness. She extends her arms up towards the sky -as if the kiss the sun with worn fingertips- smiling, feeling beautiful for once. Life seems to stop in this moment; cars halt in their mid-noisy scramble across the earth; the unnerving whine and destruction of lawnmowers frozen in place; a bird stiffens and blends into the backdrops of trees in a frozen dive towards the ground. Everything is still. Everything is quiet, allowing her this one moment with the sun. A smile, the purest of happiness, is born upon her face as she glides her fingers through the sun above her. The motion of her fingers send ripples through the sky, blending golden rays with sky blues, while sending a tinge of warm flowing through her limbs.

Birds begin their choir once more. The symphony of machines begin to roar in the distance. The lawnmowers pick up their earth-shattering tantrums and continue. She drops her arms as they swing idly beside her slouching body. She lowers her gaze in disappointment as she picks up her heavy feet. Breathe in, breathe out.

...

2010-05-19T18:22:00.000-07:00

He took a breath, exhaling deep regret upon her face. Her expression frozen in fear, forever, cold and unforgiving. The blades of the willow tree, looming above, begins to sway as he kisses her cheek for the last time. I'm sorry my dear, you did your best. He croons into her deafened ear as he wipes his hand across his cheek, -a scratch mark from a struggle- evidence that will heal.

Her body becomes one with the earth, buried deep under the ground. The ground that life walks so carelessly around on, unknowing. She flutters her eyelashes as muted footsteps scatter above her, dissolving into a painful silence. Her hearing is back; thighs are sore; neck is broken. She blinks rapidly, trying to rid the dirt from under her eye lids. Her heart -once frozen with death, still with stiffened, thick blood- begins to pump heavy spasms that shake her body, throwing her breast violently up and down. Her hands claw towards the sky in fury, breaking the surface of her grave. Radiant moonlight pierces her skin as she takes her first breath in days. A ghastly noise, mixed between a gasp and a howl, escapes her mouth as her body shudders in relief.

A dream and wake.

2010-05-06T00:47:00.000-07:00

Walking barefoot in the desert. I saw you running toward me, through mirage and the high noon sun, with knives bared like teeth; fingers splayed out scraping the scenery; pillows of bruises floating underneath your balmy skin. Run away, run away. Turn around, turn around. I am no match for you. Beads of sweat drip from my swollen temples, colliding with the broken ground making it tremble and making me sway.

Everything is steady, everything is slow.. Bottled up for the world to show. Clicking bottlenecks against the fencepost, she throws her head back to laugh. The sun bathes her pearly face as she forgets the joy of the moment. The bottle slides from her fingers. Her lips curl into a devious smile as her feet begin to take her away.. To something foreign and new.

Hands, oh hands.. Precious, beautiful instruments of our minds, with the power to create and to destroy; to love and to explore.

I finally did it..

2010-04-18T17:54:00.000-07:00

A 360 view from the summit of Mt. Hood. April 18, 2010.
So, when can I go again?!

Observation of the Day.

2010-03-19T17:28:00.000-07:00

Sitting within darkened rooms in an illegal state of mind.
Ancient people with their flesh coats dripping with slow motion death.

What once was..

2010-03-19T16:57:00.001-07:00

I danced for you, like the cascading frost in the early morning.
From leaf to flower; from bird to tree; from house to pavement.
All the while, trying to prove myself to you.
A pirouette, a leap, a dip, a curve, a smile.
All the while, trying to prove my beauty to you.

You watch me curl and bend with ravenous eyes, with a hunger fit for a King.
With a smile and a gentle hand, you lead me into a field of thorns.
Where I will dance no more.

A yearning.

2010-02-26T14:51:00.000-08:00

Portland encountered an unusual taste of spring last week, with temperatures in the 60's, bright, blue skies, and a beautiful, nurturing sun shine. People woke up from their winter hibernation and waltzed around, shedding off their winter coats. Smiles were not hard to find as an unyielding cloud of joy wafted through open doors, open windows, around fences, through car vents -which is to say that no one was left untouched. Individuals turned to their estranged neighbors and greeted them with a wave and a hearty, hello! During this blessing of a week, cherry blossoms began to bloom, flowers and plants started to poke out of their seeds, reaching up towards the sky, bathing in the Sun's effervescent rays.

Excuse me while I cut this short.

Portland encountered a very unusual taste of happiness last week.. But we should have known, we did know, that it would not last. We close our curtains once more to ward off the thick gray that looms over the city. We've wrapped ourselves up in our personal cocoons, once more, our neighbors remain just strange faces in the distance.

I wait patiently by my window for you again, Sun...
My face shall be the first face to greet you with a smile, when you return.

Transitions.

2010-02-02T06:24:00.000-08:00

Matthew's Death:

Gloria holds her husband's weakened hand as he lays in the street, surrounded by worried and invasive eyes.

Ten feet away, a man frantically explains the situation to a stranger on the other side of his cellphone. His words are clumsy and his palms are sweating, "he's losing a lot of blood -oh, God, there is a lot of blood- can you please send some help?" .. "Help is on the way, sir. Can you tell me if he's breathing, please, I need to know that asap." The man swallows a lump in his throat, "just barely" he says and covers his mouth with his free hand.

Gloria gasps for breath, her lungs pressed heavy with love and fear. Why did this happen? she thought, as my eyelids flutter. "Stay with me.." I keep hearing, "stay with me.."

Her pleas send me back to the time when I fell in love with her, seventeen years ago, at the ripe age of fifteen. It was late and I walked to her parent's house to try to coax her out for a night time walk with me. I was unsuccessful because it began to rain, and her room was on the second story of their house. She whispers her fear of falling out to me and I blew her a kiss and walked home. Late that night, I get a call from Gloria and she's asking to see me. I can hear her swallowing sobs as they threaten to escape. I'm over there within minutes and climbing the deck, rail, gutter to get to her window. She looks magical with her hair a mess and her face stained with tears, free of make up. I treasure this sight of her, completely unguarded towards me. She is Gloria, simple yet astounding.

My eyes open to a blinding light that pains my temples. I blink and adjust. I look up to focus on the face of my beautiful wife, and a smile breaks across my face, so wide and so warm that I feel myself rise. "I am here, my dear," I whisper to her as I sit in front of her. Her eyes cast down and lift for the slightest moment, as if in reaction to my words; her deep, blue eyes are swollen and tear-stained; her expression blank and unforgiving. The crease between her brow has been intensified by sorrow, as it dances it's way across her face and through her eyes; spilling out of her eyes to continue it's dance on the ground, mingling with my blood. She weeps and allows her head to fall into her lap where my head rests.

Instantly, fear takes a hold of me and I began to feel uneasy. I have something to do. I have somewhere to go, and it is not here in front of my honest wife or my dead body. My dead body.. A wave of nausea and fear hits me, and probes every nerve in my body. I will never hold Gloria again, as she weeps over my body, I have to turn away.

The world that I inhabited begins to fade away. I turn back as the scene of my death begins to blur, like a pastel drawing submerged in water. Within a second, everything pools and drops to the ground in a mass of color that washes away, like a stream. It flows downhill, although, what that means on this blank canvas is uncertain. The only certainties are that the water flows and has washed away the world of the living; Gloria is gone; I am dead.

My fear begins to ease as a new feeling nestles it's way into my nerves: wonder. The ground on which I stand turns a deep shade of green, with patches of moss adding a nice contrast, here and there. Thick ceders begin to rise from the ground, growing feet by feet, within seconds, until they reach a satisfactory height towering high above me. A gentle breeze flows and tousles the branches with a wave that smells of cinnamon, once it reaches me, my senses are engrossed with familiarity, love, and warmth.

-------------------------------

Jezebel's Death:

The light of a soft dawn breaks through the trees. The light wraps itself around my lashes, skin, and lips, encouraging me to rouse and greet it with a sleepy smile. I do. I stretch towards the sky as the dawn bathes me in spotlight. I run my pale fingers through the tangles formed during sleep, with the gentlest of movements, the knots are free and my hair flows in fragile waves again.

Jezebel had slept in her father's old cabin, again. It was nestled deep in the woods about a mile from the home she shared with her mother. Her family owned the mile stretch of land, and her father had built a small, wooden cabin when Jezebel was only a baby. It had a cot with a heavy blanket --a smaller one for a pillow, a small wooden table with a drawer stuffed with pens, pencils and paper, one large window over looking a meadow, outlined by high trees, and a book shelf full of her father's favorite books.

She got up and walked to the window to catch the first movements of the day. She lifted her hand and gently touched the line of books along the shelf, the wooden table, the various drawings in piles left by her father. She said a prayer for him as a tear fled her eye. It dropped onto the top drawing of a lark drawn with immaculate detail.

Her father had died three years ago while walking home from the ale house in town. It had rained that night and the paths were soaked and slippery. --Some say my mother had cursed him to his fate, for she had shed no tear for him, while her daughter ached with pain and longing for her truly loved, and heavily missed father.-- He met his end when he slipped and his head discovered a boulder hidden in the dark. Granted, his eyes were blurred by the rain and fuzzy with ale. An unfortunate death.

Her mother had never known of the cabin hidden in a fold of the forest. Her father had built the cabin to relax and become one with nature, through his drawings, which was a passion for him. Her mother had disapproved of the drawings, saying, "what a waste of time.. The shingles need patching, the garden needs tending, the cows need milking. Make yourself useful!" He was an artist, everyone had known that. He lived in the trees with the birds; he saw the greenest of greens in the bed of flowers, clovers, and moss. Her mother had once known this and loved him for this, but she grew bitter after years of marriage when she had not become his muse. She was just a wife to him. He had loved her passionately and dearly, but he loved nature more. He had lived for nature, until his daughter was born, giving him a new beauty to wonder at in life.

Jezebel pressed her fingers to the glass of the window in the cabin. She gazed at the edge of the trees to see the morning birds cleaning their beaks on twigs and branches. A memory invaded her head and she was sitting on her father's lap, she was six years old and brimming with happiness, her father and told her to keep quiet as he picked her up and set her on the dusty ground of the cabin. He tip toed to the cabin door and slowly opened it with a gentle hand. He placed his finger to his mouth, to shush her, and tip-toed out of the cabin and into the meadow. Jezebel threw both of her hands to cover the giggles that were about to pour from her mouth. She sat on the ground hugging her knees, amazed at the warmth brewing around her and in her. Her father's head popped back in the door's frame and a hand beckoned her to him. She quietly joined her father outside, still covering her mouth for the fear of disappointing her father.

"Look at them Jez," he whispered as he lifted an arm, commanding her attention forward.

That's when she saw the fawn taking its first step on its new set of legs. Still wet from birth, it stumbled around in the comfort of its mother. She licked her newborn tenderly as it adjusted to its new life. Her head lifted every now and then to scan the meadow for danger, then continued to lick when she found no threat.

Jezebel squeezed her father's hand as he held her close, breathing as slowly as she could, fighting against her thumping heart.

The fawn had managed to stand steady on all four legs.

Tears streaked her cheeks and she let out a gasp that startled the deer.

The deer urged her newborn to run and they scampered deep into the meadow.

"That was beautiful," she whispered into the wind turning to see her father smiling at her.
"So are you my girl," and he picked her up and held her little body close to his. He felt her heart beat against his chest was thankful for life and for all things living.

Jezebel was brought back from her thoughts by the chirping of morning birds. She often lost herself in memories now days, and the absence of her father had left a gaping hole in her chest. She dried her eyes with a swipe of her hand and straightened her back, holding her head high. She would be brave for her father. She would be thankful for her father.

***

The dawn was starting to climb into the sky. I was starting to worry that mother would be awake, to hassle me for details of my whereabouts. Claiming she'll castrate the boy and disown me if I became pregnant. I laugh at her assumptions but I always kept her guessing. She could never know about this cabin, it was only for father and I.

Mother was too bitter and angry these days, she would surely burn it down if she knew. I had often caught her muttering obscenities at me under her breath, "little hussy, coming home in the morning, I never raised such a daughter." She would jut her jaw and turn away from me and walk out the room. I would sit there hurt and in rage at her jealousy of my father. She had become such a hard shell that he poured his love and energy into raising me in the forest, away from her sneers and glares of disdain.

I tried the door handle to the cabin but it would not budge. The door felt stuck by a force unknown to me, as if the hinges we frozen in place by the wrath of night against all things warm. I scratched my head, puzzled. I threw my body into the door and it finally gave way and open into the dewy morning. The cold bit me at once and I wrapped my light shawl around my shoulders to keep warm. I had slept in the thin, white, cotton sun dress I wore the day before when I came to the cabin. It provided little to no insulation against the morning air. Goosebumps littered my exposed skin and the light, blond hairs of my body rose like stiff spikes.

Most of the walk home consisted of tromping through the forest, but some spots I had to cut across the man made roads. There was a bridge up ahead, about half a mile from home, that I liked to cross. The road ran over the bridge and I liked to look over into the rushing water below, with the slight sensation of tossing myself over to become one with the rapids. Father always held on to me and let me look over, too nervous to let me look over the ledge myself. I saw my father in everything beautiful. He was in the trees; in the birds that flew between them; in the bugs that crawled over my toes if I idled in one spot for too long. He flowed through my hands as I lifted them toward the leaves to feel their flesh on mine.

My father had died when I was thirteen. For sixteen whole years, I lived with my mother as living proof that my father loved me more than he loved her. I grew up passionate for life, caring for nature, and full of innocence and joy. All things my mother wished she had never lost; wished that my father had kept alive in her, but were long gone and long since buried deep within her soul. She had let her jealousy and anger consume her, for years.

At the precise moment when I approached the bridge, my mother was standing at the foot of my bed cursing my absence, cursing me for having to provide for, cursing my beautiful face and loving spirit. The tears of my mother flowed hot and sticky down her face. She closed her eyes and wiped the emotion from her face and turned to leave my room. She began her morning chores by heating a large pot of water over the freshly built fire in the fireplace. She would think of me no longer that day. She began to wash me from her thoughts, with housework and boiling, hot water.

A thin fog rose from the river below the bridge, casting an eerie blur above, making it hard to see the danger ahead. I let my right hand glide across the rail guard as I walked across the bridge. I stopped in the middle and placed both of my hands on the rail and I faced the raging river as it flowed below me --and I felt it flow through me, giving me peace and I felt my father with me. He was tugging at my heart. Like a deer, my head shot up into the air as I heard the laughter approaching me. From my left, two hefty men were approaching the bridge stumbling over their feet, and slurring their words to each other. One of them spotted me in my thin, white sundress and stood up straighter. His right hand swung up to hit the chest of the man next to him, as if alerting him to my presence. With a curse, the other man followed his friend's hungry eyes to my direction, and he too stood straighter, with a purpose now. Their minds in sync --attuned to the same channel. They must be men from another town for I have never seen them before, but I've seen that look before. That look of lust and hunger, covering their face.

My heart froze, and for a second I thought it had stopped. My eyes never left the two men as I tried to read their reaction and assess the damage they could do to me. I collected myself and took a few steps back, ready to make my run for it into the forest behind me; the forest on the other side of this monstrous bridge, the side that held a happier fate for me. I felt two large hands close in on my arms from the back. There had been another man on the other side of the bridge closing in on me. He held me from behind and placed his rotten hand over my mouth to muffle my scream.

With no effort at all, he carried my kicking body to the other side of the bridge where his friends waited, grinning as if they had just captured their prettiest, meatiest game. I was thrown up against a brown truck as one of them ripped my dress open at my chest. My heart was pumping in fits of fury and fear, I thought that feeling alone would kill me, but it only distracted me from what they were doing to me. Through tears, I saw snarling teeth chomping at me; red, swollen eyes eating up the features and contours of my body; giant claws ripping my clothes to shreds, gripping my skin, and tearing my flesh.

I heard laughing, grunting, and a close panting in the air. I felt someone's hot breath against my neck, making my skin moist where it brushed against. I was able to free a hand to claw the man that had mounted me on the ground. I broke the delicate skin beside one of his red eyes and it started to drip with blood. There was a shout and an elbow closed in on my face, bringing about a pain so deep that it seemed to lock my joints and muscles. I was tossed from my back onto my stomach, where one of them continued from behind. My face was deep in the mud beside the truck, on the side of the road, by the bridge, next to the raging river that made the ground moist with it's fog.

With every thrust, my face sank deeper and deeper, and I swallowed mud and water in my attempts of escape --in my success in failure. I felt heavy and hollow at the same time. By the time the last man was done with me, I had swallowed my last mouthful of mud and it had stopped my heart. The blood in my veins began to thicken as they lost warmth and circulation. I watched one of the men pick up my stiff, naked body and toss it over the side of the bridge, where it crashed into the hungry rapids of the river below; the river that I felt like leaping into only an hour before. I had felt a heavy presence of my father then, when I was gazing into the rapids before my death. I now realize that he was warning me, hoping that my wild heart would overcome and bring my body with it, for once. I watched, from where I had died, as the men climbed into the truck, throwing my ripped dress and dirtied shawl into the back, where one of them was sitting, lighting a cigarette in his dirty mouth.

Later, he will throw my clothes from the truck.

Later, someone will find my clothes on the ground where the ceders line the road.

***

A lark flies from tree to tree until it comes to a halt on a branch near me.

I watched the lark as it cleaned its' beak and ruffled its' feathers to shake out the dirt. It began to shake drops of water into the trees and onto the ground. Where those drops hit, the color and texture would turn to water, that would spill to the ground to form a puddle. The world around me began to melt into tiny dew drops. A puddle formed --at my feet-- of the colors of the forest, even the white and blue hues of the river, were in the pool; the brown from the mud; the rust and steal colors of the bridge; the dark red hues of my blood, from my ravaged body were all in puddle at my feet.

---------------------------------

A Revelation, of sorts.

2010-01-11T07:35:00.000-08:00

In my dream, I tasted gold. Not in the sense of material wealth, fame, or power, but emotional fulfillment; a sense of belonging; a strong feeling of being alive. I felt my blood pumping, boldly through my veins, and I saw colors more vivid than anything I had seen in the past. In the wake of my awe and happiness I saw flowers bloom: carnations, daisies, azaleas, magnolias, and primroses, all reaching --with every life and being-- out towards me, soaking up the energy and the life beaming from me..

In reality, when I sit down to think my mind clears and I see images. A little girl in a thin, periwinkle dress stands by herself against a backdrop of deep, green grass. Her golden curls cascade down her shoulders, weaving in and out of ribbons bound by bows. She looks down at an object in her hand, her long golden lashes catch the sun's rays and look translucent, her skin a perfect shade of pink pearl. I try to make sense of why she's occupying my thoughts and mind space. I think; beauty, youth, innocence, life, family, house, noise, lawn, music, dance. As I tie words from the English language to this image in my head, she then breaks loose from her moment frozen in time, and begins to jump up and down, on a blanket of grass, holding an object in her cupped, delicate hands. She shrieks in excitement and hops toward me with a beaming smile, lighting up the darkest corners of the earth.

"What do you have there little Miss?" I say as I lean over her cupped hands in anticipation.

She's giggling, brimming with happiness and pride at her capture of nature. She feels, for a second, in complete control of the world and all of her surroundings, as if she carries a secret far greater than any adult on this earth. She bites down, softly, on her lips resembling an old women fighting against her conscience.

Her hands unfold to reveal a small Monarch butterfly resting against her skin. It gently flutters it's wings in content, knowing it will not be harmed in this young girl's presence. The white dots lining the wings cast a light upon the black, like distant stars in a clear, midnight sky. The autumn orange of the wing's body acting like a sun, giving the butterfly warmth and energy, and radiating an untouchable beauty to my eyes. With a gentle effort --too small for us to see-- the butterfly takes off and flutters into the daylight, climbing higher and higher.

An unguarded laugh escapes my mouth and I feel young again. I look down at my clear, glittered jelly sandals --the ones I wore to ruins as a kid-- and my faded, grass-stained denim jeans. My hands are small and fragile, caked with mud and dandelion stains. The little girl, in her periwinkle dress, extends her little hand before me. With an innocent smile, I take her hand and we skip together into the thickets behind.

"I know a place that serves the best mud pies!" She squeals, skipping.
"I know a place where the fairies nap!" I squeal, unevenly, skipping.

Ask me what I'm thinking and you'll receive a shrug.. In reality, I am exhausted in a way. I can barely account for actually living and experiencing life for myself, but in a way I am satisfied, for I see and experience all sorts of life and wonders in my head. I see families grow up strong; bridges being built over raging rivers; stars dancing together in the skies; a brother and a sister fighting for a watermelon slice; a unicorn slaying a lion with it's horn. I see everything, in my head. I live inside of there with them.

I'm sorry if I seem distant or boring. I'm sorry if I am awkward and shy. In my head, I am the queen of the world --the good kind that will fall to her knees to help someone dig a meaningless hole. I converse with king's men and knights as they strategically plan out their next invasion. Everything is adventurous and beautiful, daring and bold, dangerous and fantastical.

A part of me will never be happy in this life, because life does not mirror what I see inside of me. Is it so dangerous to lose yourself? I wonder...

Plague

2009-12-16T05:58:00.000-08:00

(Continued from a previous post named, My Sweet Prince.)

Hand in hand, the Demon and I walk through our land, scouring the bleak horizons for some fun. A constant darkness looms in the skies and plagues the land below. Side by side, the Demon and I circle our prey; a child, left behind with nowhere to go. He's crying out with red eyes and a sore throat, reaching into the sky for something to save him. His instincts calling out for a savior knowing that his time has come. A gentle growl escapes my Prince and I step in to take the claim. He's mine, I say with my blackened eyes and extend my arm to block his path. My Prince gives up his hunger and allows me the kill, but I do not kill. My hands caress the child's fragile skin and I stare into his eyes that spill water so freely. How does it feel to cry? I wonder, such a delicate, small creature, what nourishment would he offer? The boy wraps his hand around my stone finger, and I'm pained with a memory that I cannot find, like a shell of something but hollow inside. My Prince growls once more above my crouched body and I take one final look at the pearl-like baby in front of me. I kiss his little cheek and marvel as his body turns to stone. I pick up the little demon and hold him in the cleft of my arm, as if the spot was made for him. We continue our walk through the plagued lands, The Prince and I, and my little demon looking for his first meal.

The beast, the dragon, adored.

2009-12-07T06:09:00.000-08:00

The hole in my chest grows as I walk the boulevard lined with Spanish Oak. Life bustles around every corner, in every entryway, on every bench around me. The panic begins to rise in my chest, and I place my hand on my heart to calm it. I duck into the next alleyway and my body falls onto my feet and pavement. A sob erupts from my mouth as I tighten my grip on my chest.

A curious static hums from my right and I look up to see a blur next to me, as if staring at an angel in front of the moon. A blur the size of my body suspended in midair, like dead air, like a window.. Behind the blur life goes on as it does with or without you. I extend my hand as it disappears and sends a ripple through the blur. I'm convinced. I throw my head back to stare at the sun one last time. I expose my vulnerability to everything living and a gasp escapes my mouth. I walk and disappear through the blur in the middle of the alleyway, and it dissipates after me.

A scream erupts from my mouth as I fall from the sky. The air pulls at my cheeks, and throws my hair and limbs in twists all around me. A dragon, with scales made of emerald and jade, catches my fall and carries me on. It's muscles tremble under my legs as the power of flight moves from head to tail. A giggle erupts from my mouth as I throw my hands up to comb the violent breeze above me.

Carry on my stalwart savior!

The world fades below me, like blowing on chalk scrapped onto the pavement. I tighten my hold on the dragon as my heart pumps excitement through my veins. "I'm ready," I say, "for whatever lay ahead."

Words

2009-11-15T20:04:00.000-08:00

The road is the only way to go
casting shadows on the moon.
Mother and child laying in the woods
waiting for the chance to run.

I saw you in the sea reaching out for me
that's why I tried to save you
but my feet tangled in the reeds.
They brought me to my knees.

I followed you down to the water bend
you cupped your hands
and called to your friend.
The water rose from the stream with ease
and wrapped you in a lover's fold.

I'm sitting all alone
filling my head with emotions
just to feel something.
I'm sitting all alone
pricking my finger with a needle
just to feel a thing.
-so the story goes.

One, two, three
Jimmy throw down your pail
help us build this factory.
This pyre will feed your children
and their children to come.

Trying something new.

2009-09-30T16:19:00.000-07:00

I'm going to stop the random postings on my stories to help encourage myself to finish. So, stand by. I'm working on a pretty epic piece. :)

Lexume

2009-09-30T15:06:00.000-07:00

The further existence of humanity depends on one key piece of information.. Something written in a small, delicate journal bound together with a withered piece of twine.

Do you ever get the feeling that it's just not your day? Well, I know right when I wake up and take my first conscious breath of chilly, morning air; today is not my day. I push myself onto my elbows and the migraine follows shortly; a pounding, reckless driver inside of my head. My teeth begin to chatter as I notice two things simultaneously: my window is wide open and I'm naked. My skin is almost blue. I wrap my thin comforter around my icy body, with teeth chattering, I get up to thaw out in the shower. I make my way across the room with painful tip toes as I try to move with the blanket, accomplishing a waddle, really.

Something is not right, I think, as I reach for the door handle. I look up to see a sloppy note stuck to my door with a very thin blade. My heart jumps at the oddity of the blade and it's violence towards my poor, wooden door, or myself if I had been awake.
"Meet me at Fountain Square: 3 p.m. sharp.. X"
I don't know what X means nor am I excited to find out. I crack my door enough to stick my head out, "mom!" I yell once, twice with persistence but still no response.

First things first, I'm late for school.

I step out and take a look at my surroundings. Section 9, is the place that I call home, unit 28a. It's a mile stretch each section with units on both sides of the street. It's an easy walk once I get out of my Section. There are 40 Sections to our District and they are laid out like toothpicks surrounding the city. So as each person takes their commute they walk straight into the heart of the city from their Sections. The Governmental Forces of Lexume worry less when they can keep an eye on everyone so easily.

I pass by the Gardener's home, unit 20a, and a chill climbs the back of my neck. He always seems to know when I pass --I get a glimpse of the upstairs curtain rustling. "You're quick for your age!" I yell childishly at the window as I keep my pace, eventually passing the blasted house. I've never been on good terms with him, no matter how hard I try.

When I enter the city I decide to take a slight detour towards Fountain Square. I slap my forehead as I realize that I forgot the note. "Blasted!" I yell at the ground as I hold my forehead in my hand, still stinging from the sudden slap. I reach the Square and find the nearest bench to stand on to scope out the view. I admit, on top it's not a better view, it's just that I enjoy the air of power the height brings.

Around this time the Square is littered with commuters. Young to middle-aged adults bustle through reading papers or chattering with their partners. Women pushing their young in strollers along the paths lined with wild daisies. A young couple sit side by side on the fountain's edge eating cookies from a paper bag. I sigh as I take in the handfuls of life happening before my eyes. That's when I see him --dark hat casting a shadow across an even darker face. A long black jacket with a raised collar so high that it shields his view on all sides. He's standing on a bench opposite me on the other side of the Square staring in my direction. My heart begins to palpitate and I choke on my breath. Something about this situation and image is completely horrifying to me, but I can't place it yet. All that I know is this is not good. He brings his right hand to his face and holds it there for a few seconds, as if speaking to his watch. He steps down from the bench and proceeds into the middle of the Square. I leap over the back of the bench, catch my footing, and take off in a sprint towards the school.

My instincts keep screaming -never run into that man, again.

I arrive at school with heavy feet as the exhaustion engulfs me. Not a particularly long run but the adrenaline has arrested most of my energy leaving me feeling rubbery. I drag my feet to class, which has already started. The creak from the classroom door halts Miss Tenneco mid-sentence and she glares at me through round-rimmed glasses. I ignore the 20 sets of beady eyes following me to my seat. My chair feels like an ice cube and it pierces my skin instantly through my clothes. I clench my jaw from the shock and a giggle erupts to my right. --Vivian Hart basks in the glory of making anyone feel uncomfortable in their own skin. I shoot her a glare only my horrible morning can produce and she throws her gaze forward. Miss Tenneco scoffs and adjusts her glasses atop her tiny, yet crooked nose and continues with her lecture.

All morning I lose myself completely in my silly day dreams. This morning in particulate my day dreams bring on an uneasy feeling of fear and confusion. I'm recounting my distant, yet personal, encounter with that strange man. Then there is the note..

Are they related? Is he X? He couldn't be, really, because this stranger in the Square was something to fear. X left the note in my room personally, if he was something to fear he would have cut my throat while I slept, avoiding this silly tag-your-it game. Why couldn't this X just wake me up to talk with me? Coward. Wait, creep! He was in my room.. Who do I know that hates me? Oh, silly, that's impossible to narrow down. What kind of name is-- BUZZ-BUZZ-BUZZ.

The lunch bell shakes me back to reality and the air is filled with loud shuffling; anxious children patter towards the classroom door to fill their bellies or to catch up on the latest gossip. I wait for the rush to cease and grab my things, stuffing them into my bag with a dazed and absent mind. I forgot a lunch, I think to myself as I make my way out the door. Without looking up from her paper Miss Tenneco utters, "be on time, always, in the future" with a stern and dominating tone. "Yes, Ma'am," I mumble under my breath.

I sit in my usual spot for lunch under locker number 322. I'm snug, across from the second set of doors opening into the crowded cafeteria. From here I can watch everyone at a safe distance, eating their food, gossiping, or throwing things at unsuspecting victims. Why do I feel like I'll never belong? Amelia interrupts my cynical thoughts by shoving a slice of tuna sandwich in my face.
"You're a savior, Ame. I forgot a lunch today." I say as I wrap my fingers around the sandwich, salivating, just a little.
"Like always. What's your excuse this morning?" She pushes her glasses further up her acne-ridden nose. The thing I love about Amelia is that she's not perfect nor does she even try. She's Amelia, simple and astounding. "A pack of rabid wolves break into your room in the middle of the night to crown you their leader?" She grabs her side and giggles into the puff of hair bound to the side of her head.
"Cute, Ame. Today was weird.." As I begin to tell her about the note and the man in the park, a darkness rolls over the skylights and daylight seems to turn to dusk. A loud click of metal rings through the school and for a moment everyone looks up to the sky; eyes of confusion cast up searching for an answer or reassurance. Simultaneous clicks sounds off through out the school, as if all the doors are being locked. The intercom clicks on and sends a vibrating, low static. Ame and I look at each other for the last time in fluorescent light, our fear etched on each other's face, and then the lights shut off. The screams come and I'm on my feet pulling Ame to hers...

Awe.

2009-09-21T17:13:00.000-07:00

There is this one song I've had for years on my computer, but I never listened to it. As if by a calling, my mouse simply floated to it and double clicked. A haunting strum invades my ears and I open my hands to it. I extend my arms and allow the song to completely take hold of me..

It's beautiful and it's giving me the image of dancing on icebergs, twirling graciously around as they float through life, silently, colliding with others.. Making no sound whatsoever, because who is there to hear? Absolute solitude. Beautiful whites having a dance of their own in water so blue it makes me want to cry. The breeze is animated with little, white curly-cues dipping and curling through the scene. Here, the stars are your best companion.

(Drifting off in the water with no direction whatsoever.)

If I opened my hands to you what would you do?

Please tell me: What is happiness to you?

Tip of The Iceberg.

2009-09-20T10:40:00.000-07:00

Her breath twists and turns, forming into solid lies that float into the breeze.
She makes her home in the snow flakes; her skin as translucent as the ice she dances on.
"We are a lonely breed," she sings to the stars at night, in solitude.

Stay, don't go.

2009-09-13T17:37:00.000-07:00

Sensing your distress, shaking it off like a piece of dust.
An old man places his wrinkled hand on my chest and mouths the words, "you can breathe again" into the air. My mouth glues shut as I try to warn him, but the shove comes too soon. "I can't swim, sir" I yell as the water envelopes me taking me to it's world down below. I wash up onto a forbidden shore, blue and yellow, from the beatings of the waves. A little, naked boy runs up to my limp and bound body. His foot meets my chest and he giggles and runs off into the tropical growth.
The bubble will burst.
I throw up the contents of an aquarium on the beach; colorful fishes, various plants, and grains of sand passed through me. I lay on my back with bile running down my cheek.
The bubble will burst.
The bindings on my body slowly melt under the hot sun; dissolving into sizzles of smoke. Fragile smoke people start taking form, joining hands and chanting up my legs to congregate on my stomach, "wake up, wake up, wake up!" they chant in high, shrill voices. I throw my my arm through them with a start and they break and swirl into nothingness.
The bubble will burst.
I lay my head back down and let the sand swallow me up, taking me to a new world.

The Harpy

2009-09-10T20:23:00.000-07:00

Every instinct and intuition awoke in Ly and she quickly opened her eyes to an eerie darkness. Her eyes adjusted with protest and a faint screech lingered in the high skies. She was laying in a bed of high grass as dead as the sense of safety right now.

The wind whipped across her face in sporadic gusts- pushing her body, slightly, to and fro. The silence was deafening, like two unforgiving hands pressing each side of her head together. She got to her feet, which were bare, and took a few steps into the grassland. The sound of grass beneath her feet was barely audible.

Where are my shoes?

A high shriek pierced the silence above her. A dark figure loomed in the sky, circling her with massive and powerful wings. Confusion and fear enveloped Ly and her feet faltered, tripping over one another as she began to run -heading anywhere but here. The figure lowered into view and Ly saw- with a gut-wrenching realization- what was hunting her. A massive harpy, half-bird half-woman, with blood-matted hair spilling over her bare chest. It's breasts sagged with age and horror; eyes red and bloodshot; mouth chapped with crusted blood and bile. The stench of the harpy wrapped itself around Ly who was still running, panting, heart beating like a ticking time bomb in it's final seconds. Don't stop. Don't slow down. She told herself.

One last glance behind her shows the cracked claw of the harpy outstretched inches from her head, it's mouth open and salivating.. Beneath her feet the surface of the earth changes into planks of wood. She bumps into a large, poorly crafted wooden table in the center of what looks like a little shack. The noise from outside ceases as the wooden door of the shack slams shut on it's own accord.

Gasping for breath, Ly grabs a handful of her shirt and falls to her knees with exhaustion and fear pounding in her veins. She notices something rough in her hand that holds her shirt, bundled, as if for comfort. There is a folded piece of paper in her hand..

Into The Dreamland.

2009-09-06T10:04:00.000-07:00

Ly opened her eyes to bright, round orbs floating above her. Her body was bound to a hospital bed, brightly colored wires sprang from her head- in every direction- into various machines that displayed her brain without privacy.

Dr. Wilcox pushed up her glasses with the tip of her pen. "Administer the sedative, Maddy, please." She said as she rested the pen on her bottom lip, looking with interest from machine to machine.

There came a peculiar moment when Ly envisioned herself as bowl of spaghetti. Her legs curled up towards her chest and her limbs splayed out in a pocket of comfort. She held the image in her head and the rest of her thoughts seemed to dissolve. She was welcoming this sleep.

Dr. Wilcox sat up to activity displayed on the screens. "She's almost there." She whispered as she wrote on her chart. She closed her eyes and reached into her pant pocket and pulled out a small folded piece of paper. With a sigh Dr. Wilcox walked over to the bed and gently unfolded Ly's clenched hand and placed the paper in her tired grip. She hid the hand under the blanket and hovered over the sleeping girl's exposed ear, "Give this to David, please, if you find him."

Every instinct and intuition awoke in Ly and she quickly opened her eyes to an eerie darkness. Her eyes adjusted with protest and a faint screech lingered in the high skies. She was laying in a bed of high grass as dead as the sense of safety right now.

Always, unfinished.

2009-08-27T14:28:00.000-07:00

Silence:
Creeping softly up my legs,
wrapping it's snake-like body around my hips-
the hips that bore my deceased children.
Silence, sliding up my spine and across my breasts,
making me feel young again.
Silence, curls around my neck and tightens it's unforgiving grip.
In a brief moment of pain I shout his name
and I fall to the ground.
-Entry 1

Midnight Recipe:
She jumps the stars of infinite with ease,
chasing her death for the fear of boredom.
Afraid to light the room.
-Ugh

Like Praying.

2009-08-20T14:43:00.000-07:00

Charlotte held a flask of spirits with both of her hands, cupping it like something sacred. John's face produced a smile seeing his friend like this, she looks like she's praying when she drinks, he thought. She let out a long sigh as she crawled into a crouch on the large rock they sat on. Her hair spilled in curls around her face. John turned his gaze towards the water.
"Fay got married yesterday." She looked up at John through her curtain of hair.
John didn't flinch nor give any indication that he heard. He continued to gaze ahead, into the roaring river, still leaning on one elbow for support.
"Hpmh, she married that traveling salesman. Said he was her chariot, or something." Charlotte blinked and began to trace her right pinkie finger around the tip of the flask.
"Good," he said, finally, softly, not breaking his gaze, "she made this town stink like something rotten."
Charlotte raised the flask with one hand, "cheers John, you bastard."
She threw the flask back and the liquid began to spill into her mouth, her lips moistened around the opening, heavy gulps followed, sliding down her throat. She lowered the flask and held it with both hands, again, like praying. Her head fell back, her hair parted, her throat exposed; she sighed with satisfaction as the spirits penetrated her stomach.
John smiled and patted the empty space next to him.
"Amen," she whispered as she crawled next to John, tucking her face in his shoulder where she grinned the happiest of grins.

"Sorry," I said, "take me to the next one."

2009-08-19T00:30:00.000-07:00

See that man laying face down in the road?
"I shot him down with a cold, broken stone."
"I bet that hurt like hell," you said.
"Who knows," I shrug and release a sigh.

We start to dance, my lover and I, his hand cups my waist and my hand covers my eyes.
"This doesn't exist I'm living a lie!"
His hand grows brittle and scrapes against my skin. His eyes lose focus and cast up towards the sky. His mouth sags open silently moaning his pain and regret.
Bit by bit my lover falls apart, while in motion- still dancing, and soon he collides with the ground.

I continue my dance by myself, calling out to my ruined lover with a mournful sound.

Thief

2009-08-12T00:23:00.000-07:00

I
stole
this
smile
off
of a
blind
man,
who was
basking
in the sun,
appreciating
the warmth
on his
face,
for
once.

Jane 2

2009-07-19T19:44:00.000-07:00

The sound of grunge rock wafted through the air and into Jane's ears from across the street. She cast her eyes up to look at the dingy bar, with it's group of rugged, dirty, angst-ridden kids littering the entrance, smoking their lives short without guilt. Within a second she's walking across the street and into the hole-in-the-wall bar that calls her name, silently in the smokey night.

I'm sipping on my IPA when this little doll pushes through the door and steps into the bar. She's got this mess of long, black hair covering her shoulders with bangs hanging over half of her face. She has this short, black cotton dress on. It's loose but thin so she leaves little to the imagination when the wind blows. She's wearing a pair of red cowboy boots that cut off at her ankles and she's carrying what looks like a black cat, sideways. She hesitates at the door as she takes in the room and the people. She puts her hand to her bangs and lifts them up for a better view. Instantly, I fall for her and that gesture. I watch as she licks her lips and starts walking to the bartender. Turns out the cat she's carrying is a bag, curious enough, she plops it on the counter and unzips it's side to pull some money out. The ragged thing looks a mess as it's matted fake fur starts to collect the puddles of beer from the counter.

I keep my eyes on her as she mouths her order to the bartender, kisses the bill she's holding, and slaps it into his hand. He laughs as a reaction and turns quickly to make her drink. She leans on the counter and shifts her body to face the room. Her eyes instantly connect with mine and my face must have betrayed me by showing my stunned reaction. She laughs and continues to scan the room with a flush of color in her cheeks. Fucking idiot, I think to myself.

Jane

2009-07-17T21:16:00.000-07:00

Character Study, for my fiction:

I looked for love in all the wrong places; I looked in Sam's trousers. He had a small, fleeting love that lasted only two minutes. Exhausted, he rolled off of me and laid on his side, back facing me, the rest of the night in a soundless sleep.

Restlessness taking hold of me I got up, ran his dirty tee shirt between my legs and dressed my slim, pale body. I approached the grime crusted mirror in the bathroom, took out my lipstick, smeared a thin coat over my lips, puckered and rubbed them together, and wrote "learn to fuck" in large and sloppy letters across the mirror.

Purposely leaving the door open, I walked out of his excuse for an apartment and into the ten 'o clock night.

The heat from the day still lingered into the night. The clonking of my boots echoed off of the cars parked along the streets and off of the trees lining the sidewalk. Feeling invisible and fully alive I started walking into the heart of the city.

Incarnation of Apathy

2009-07-16T22:43:00.000-07:00

SHE saunters over to me with a devilish smile,
with cat-like claws -tap-tap-tapping that lovely dress of hers -to a beat unknown to me.
I stand there to admire her figure swaying back and forth, inching nearer.
The sense of desire bubbles in my veins as my eyes take in all of her beauty.
She comes to a halt in front of me and I'm hit with a cloud of tranquil fragrances
-Patchouli, Lavender, Sandalwood, Vanilla, Citrus, Jasmine, Moss..
I close my eyes, entranced and seduced, as she strings her fingers through my hair. I let out a sigh of relief and intoxication. "I'm yours," I moan.
Our eyes meet, inches away from each other, and I feel a stab through my heart. I choke on my last breath as her facade starts to melt. Her beauty cracks and shatters to the ground like a fragile mirror. Her hair shrivels from silky, golden locks to a brittle gray mess. Her skin begins to sag and wrinkle as if one hundred years suddenly became a burden. I try to run but I'm bound to her.
She throws her head back and cackles manically into the blackening sky.
"I always get what I want," she hisses and spits.
I slump to the ground and look up at my new master, Depression.. Don't fall for her.

A voice without a song?

2009-06-18T16:39:00.001-07:00

I feel the seams of my poorly stitched body coming undone.
I guess that's what I get for growing up in a hurry.
Hang your dolls.
Ugly lacquered strings; thin stretched cotton, stretching over premature beginnings.
I'm not ready to face this crowd-
Their frightful eyes and demonic lies stretched between their teeth in the form of a yellow bullet.

I hide my face for sanity.
I cover my ears for insanity.

I'm laying in a bed of weeds; I've never had a nice lawn
Staring at the sky with blood shot eyes.
I hold up my arm to block the sun,
I pull at the skin elastic but firm; this isn't my body.
Rolling over and coming to a bitch's stance I inspect my body..
This isn't me.
This wasn't supposed to happen.
There was supposed to be MORE than THIS.
Hot tears begin to flow from my apathetic eyes..
(Pan out: Nothing but weeds and a sad, little girl crying alone.)

I don't want to die living in a high rise grave.

The Park.

2009-06-15T21:56:00.000-07:00

(This was typed up so suddenly. I did not want to lose it so revision is needed.)

Near the end of my day my anxious feet brought me to the entrance of a park. The wrought iron gates protecting the beauty within grabbed hold of me. The intricate craftsman involved, hand-made, as black as obsidian. My hand leaped forward on it's own and parted the gate. It was cold beneath my fingers but remained as beautiful as ever in my eyes.

I started on the path as curiosity fueled me. Vast expanses of bright, green grass surrounded me with wildflowers sprouting in sporadic locations, as wildflowers often do. Neatly trimmed shrubs lined the path guiding me along my path. The sky remained it's beautiful bright blue as the sun warmed my exposed body. Oh, glorious day stay with me! You've kissed me body and soul.

With my arms spread, hands reaching towards the sun I hear a fit of laughter pass me by. Perplexed at the sudden interruption I look down to and see a little girl wearing a red parka. She's dancing in the path ahead of me, with beautiful, thin arms stretched above her fingers clasped together like a perfect ballerina. Intrigued I take a step towards her. She stops mid twirl and plants her right foot firmly with her left on the ground, and looks at me. Blazing green eyes stab mine and I'm forced to catch my breath. She smiles and proceeds down a cross path to mine.

Wanting to see if she's real I follow her. My heart pounds with excitement and my eyes burn from that beautiful stare. I come to the intersection and turn down her path. Suddenly I notice how empty the park has become. No sound. No movement. Suspiciously, I'm all alone with this girl galloping ahead of me. She looks back enticing the chase.

My pace becomes more than a walk and something gold catches my eye. On the ground is a plain, gold ring. I pick it up and instantly my hand warms to it's touch, as if it belonged to me. The girl must have dropped it. I pocket the ring hoping to return it to it's owner as soon as I catch up to her.

Out of nowhere the sky seems to darken a shade and the sun's warmth leaves me. I continue on the path with the red girl in view. Even from afar she looks beautiful! Again, something catches my eye on the path and it's a white silk ribbon, creased from folds like a bow. A spasm of worry is born in my chest but ignored as my hand reaches for the ribbon. It's so soft in my hand like liquid silk if such a thing existed.

Clouds begin to roll in and the sun whines and protests, trying it's best to keep shining. I pocket the ribbon and continue following the girl. My feet falter and come to a stop when I see the red parka in front of me on the path where it clearly does not belong! A torrent of fear runs through me as I reach for the petite parka. The clouds win the battle and the sun is lost. Darkness swims from every angle and collides with the light. As my eyes adjust to the sudden and instant darkness I spot a man ahead of me. He's dressed in black with a heavy trench coat. His face is hidden with a cloud of smoke swirling up from his pipe. He catches my stare and starts to laugh a menacing sound that makes my stomach sick.

I look down at the red parka and my thoughts become a mess. Where is she? I look up towards the man and see a pile of bones beneath his feet. Elegant, shimmering white, beautiful and petite. Complete and utter fright engulf my senses and I turn around and start to run. Running as fast as I can back where I came from. Every sense and instinct telling me to hurry, to run, don't look back. I drop the parka and and the ribbon on the ground, while running on the path towards home. The sun starts to reclaim it's position and brightens a little. The path ahead of me grows clear. I come to the intersecting paths and grab the ring out of my pocket. In my hand it looks ugly, deceitful and old. I throw it behind me and continue to run toward the entrance. The sun, again, shins brightly on my body and I pause in the park path to look up.

My arms stretched out and my hands reaching toward to sun, I'm back to where I started. Oh, glorious day never leave me again! Motion starts again and I hear the rustling of the park. The trees sway again and the birds sing their sweet tones of poetic beauty. I hear a fit of laughter pass me by and I freeze. Unable to look down, knowing what I'd find, I turn around and start walking towards that beautiful fence. The fence that provoked my trespassing. I push the gate open ignoring the cold sting on my hand and I begin to run home.

Home. I'll never look back. I'll never return to this place again.