Ice Cream and Hyperbole

I have a professional looking website now! Same content, but new design and a more professional look.

www.icecreamandhyperbole.com

My brain is foggy like an Olympic Sunday morning
The clouds gently hugging the mountainside
A cool breeze tickling my skin
and raising the hair on my arms
A waterfall asserts its strength nearby
filling my ears with the faint hum of running water
When I sit down to write, my hands forget the motions
and all thought leaves my mind
How do I write about the loneliness in my spine?
Or the grief that fills me up like wet concrete
molding itself to fit around me
making every motion a challenge?
Nobody wants to hear how difficult it is just to get out of bed
Or the strength I need to find just to open the front door

My therapist gives me advice on how to be in the moment
Mindfulness - the art of being completely in the present
She teaches me skills to help combat the wolves
She tells me to distract myself
Improve the moment
She doesn't say what to do if the moment is what scares me
She doesn't say what to do if everything I do
reduces my moments to ashes
She doesn't say what to do if every distraction
is worse than the moment
She doesn't say what to do if the darkness lives in my bones
She doesn't say because there is nothing else to say

My doctor tells me to take these pills
To bathe my brain in chemicals
Just to see what happens
This one causes rashes, this one causes diarrhea
This one lowers your sex drive and this one can increase suicidal thoughts
Lithium, Depakote, Klonapin, Xanax, Celexa, Prozac, Zoloft, Abilify
Major Depressive Disorder, Bipolar II, Borderline Personality Disorder, PTSD
No one knows what to call the sadness behind my eyes
They can only target my behaviors
As I search for a way to stay alive
This isn't living
Its survival.

Everything you do in life will be meaningless
a water lilly on the face of a raging river
But what matters is that you do it
Because its all you have to do
Your choices give meaning to your life
And allow you to leap over the gaping chasm of nothingness
in which lies the meaning of life and death
A black hole that will suck you in if you let it
There is a storm coming
There will always be a storm coming
Its up to you to decide if you want to cower inside
Or say "to hell with it" and walk proudly through the rain
and when you do
I will be there with you
tears mixing with the rain
holding out my hand
begging you to walk beside me

It's your only weapon
to combat the wolves in your brain
that leave tally marks across your skin,
upwards until you die
always counting like a child
learning to count for the first time.
One potato, two potato, three potato four
Take these pill, cut vertically and lie down on the floor
You loved the wording on the side of the bottle
FATAL IF SWALLOWED
So final, so secure in itself
You knew what you wanted and
you knew how to get it.
Manipulation becomes you.
She drove here for you
she bought the toilet bowl cleaner for you
she drove out of state for you
Fire doesn't begin to describe
the searing in your throat
or the fear in hers.
You lie down to get some rest
the thoughts leaving your brain
like a tree on a blissful autumn afternoon.
Do you feel the lethargy?
That is your body beginning to shut down.
You feel the nausea?
That is the internal bleeding from
the hole in your stomach.
Feel the tingle in your limbs
starting with your hands and feet
and slowly crawling to your core?
You are dying.
They will say you lived a good life
that you were so troubled
that you had been depressed.
They will tear your mother apart
like cannon fodder to fuel the macabre game
that is human curiosity.
They will send condolences and have memorials
celebrating a past that never happened
and a future that never will.
They will mourn the idea of you
because that is the thing to do.

We speak in whispers
rolling gentle across our tongues
like a canoe on the ocean.
She clasps her heart with both hands,
kisses it softly and holds it out to me -
an offering on the altar that she has built
from the faces of all the girls she's ever loved.
I show her the piece of my heart that remains
untainted by the pain of separation.
She takes it and chews,
her teeth caught on the chewy bits of life
taking me into her, consuming.
With respect I take hers, fractured and scarred
I stroke it gently, its rhythm still beating
in time with my breathing.
I kiss it, cradling her heart
like a child - protective and caring.
"Don't break it," she whispers in my ear,
her lips touching my earlobe ever so lightly.
"its my only heart."

WARNING - The following story contains both physical and sexual violence. Potential trigger warning. Proceed with caution if you are easily disturbed.

He dreams of sharpened knives and meat hooks with chains. He felt the coarseness of the rope slide through his hands like sandpaper. The smell of kerosene invaded his nostrils as he looked at his handiwork. A pile of kerosene purchased from different stores over time rested on the far back wall. To the left of the door was a table on which all manor of tools sat longingly, waiting for their purpose to be fulfilled. Above him were hooks - hard points he drilled into the ceiling days before connected to chains that held his prize upright. Sean's hands were held above his head and his feet were bound together with coarse rope. She was treated like a piece of meat. It was only fitting that he do that same.
He had stripped Sean of his clothes and was beginning to get bored. He wanted his prey to be awake for what was about to happen. Impatiently he paced back and forth holding a knife sharpened to perfection. He fiddled with the point pressed firmly into his thumb, twisting back and forth. Instinctively he withdrew his hand to his mouth. The taste of blood attacked his tongue, filling him with near madness. It wasn't the only blood that would be spilled that night.
     Nearly an hour passed before Sean began to wake.
     "You're awake," he said simply.
     "Wh...where am I?"
     He smiled, walked across the small cabin room and punched Sean in the stomach. "Does that jog your memory?"
     "I just wanted some E..." Another blow to the stomach. "Shit man, what the hell is this?!" he asked, coughing and panting all the while.
"This," he pondered his answer for a long moment. He walked over to the table, picked up a hatchet, and turned around. "This is justice."
"Justice? What the fuck does that even mean?"
He walked slowly towards Sean, hatchet in hand. Sean visibly panicked. He shook his hands as if just now noticing the situation in which he had found himself. This was the part he was most looking forward to - the look of fear and the realization that this was the end.
"You can't do this. You're fucking crazy man."
"Maybe," he said. He brought his face directly in front of Sean's. "Or maybe the really crazy thing would be to let a scumbag like you roam free." He kissed Sean on the cheek gently. Sean spit in his face.
He wiped the spit slowly from his eyes, backing away a few steps. "That wasn't very nice."
"If I'm going to go its not going to do it like a pussy! You call what you are doing nice?!" Sean screamed aloud for help.
   He laughed to himself, waiting for the scream to leave his victim's voice. He screamed along, quickly losing patience. He walked to Sean, raised his hand high above his head , twisted the hatchet around and struck a hard blow to his face. Sean stopped screaming and looked around as if waking from a deep sleep. Blood flowed freely now from his lips. A few of his teeth were visibly broken. The remaining shards were spewed from his mouth in a small cough.
     He picked up the tooth fragment and got very close to his face. He held up the tooth so that his victim could clearly see it, a peak of enamel and bone on a mountain of blood.
     "One warning...that is all you get."
     "Why me? Why are you doing all of this?
     "As if you don't remember," his voice rose in anger. "Jessica Wise! Do you remember her?"
     "Jessica who? I don't know any Jessica I swear. Please you have to..."
     "Two years ago. A woman. Dark hair, no taller than 5'6". You..." he paused in an effort to contain his madness. "You kidnapped her. You raped her...again and again. You blindfolded her, you...tortured her. You..." Sean started to laugh. "This is funny to you?"
     "I remember her. She was a hottie. How is she by the way?"
     "What a shame, I wanted to hear you scream," he said calmly. "It is clear to me you have no remorse. No guilt for the night terrors, for the trauma you caused an innocent woman."
     He walked to his table, put the hatchet back in its place and picked up a curved knife with a leather handle. The dull side of the blade was twisted like a snake, the blade razor sharp. He nearly leapt the two or three steps from the table to his prize.
     "Hold still," he said with a smile. He hummed to himself while he grabbed his victim's tongue and sliced it clean off in one elegant action. Sean screamed as though he had never screamed before. Blood filled his mouth and gushed down his chin. He wiped the blood with one finger and tasted in. It tasted like vengeance and just a little bit of iron.
     Two days passed. He looked on at his project with pleasure. There was blood everywhere - on the floor, the walls, and even the ceiling somehow. He had packed away all of his knives only to have a different kind of fun. On the table in front of him was a macabre game of Jenga - a torso with all limbs removed. One arm was piled up next to the remains, while the other was submerged down to the wrist inside of Sean's anus. His penis and testicles had been removed and shoved inside of his mouth, then covered with duct tape. Both legs had long cuts running down the length, done before being removed. Amazing, Sean had survived up to that point. His eyelids had been completely removed in an effort to force him to watch the angel of death do his work.
     He was no doctor, but he was pretty sure that Sean had died of asphyxiation from having his own genitals shoved down his throat. There was glass everywhere, shards of a wine bottle once whole but now broken. In an effort to give Sean a taste of his own medicine, he had shoved the bottle into his anus and broken it while inside. That one got a lovely reaction.
     Now that his playtime was over, it was time to clean up. Using the kerosene bottle, he coated the cabin and everything in it. He wanted to be sure nothing was found but the remains of a life that had ended two years before. He made a small path of kerosene out the door and to a safe distance away. It was nearly midnight.
     He lit a match he had pulled from his pants pocket.The path of fuel lit, slowly at first but soon ran rampant. It flowed to the cabin and, after a brief pause, exploded. Passion is a fire that is dangerously close to conflagration. This had taken so much of his life. He had no idea what to do now. He would make life decisions later, he knew. Right now he stood motionless and awestruck as he watched it all burn away, taking with it the weight he carried on his shoulders every day of his life.

WARNING - The following story contains both physical and sexual violence. Potential trigger warning. Proceed with caution if you are easily disturbed

The cabin was dark and no larger than a few rooms. The only sounds that could be heard for miles were the sounds of nature - crickets chirping, birds making bird noises, and a gentle stream nearby broken only by tires on gravel road. They would not be disturbed.
He looked in the back seat as Sean was starting to move. He had been out completely for nearly 8 hours and only barely conscious before. A smile touched his lips. This was one of the moments that define a human life. What happened tonight would forever alter him and rid the world of one less monster.
He parked the car in front of the cabin, the headlights illuminating the cabin. The rest of the world was darkness. He got out of the car and not-so-gently helped Sean out of the car, letting him fall to the ground under the weight of his own body. He laughed to himself. Who had the power now?
Sean turned his head to the left then to the right noticing his surroundings for the first time.
"Where am I?" he asked.
"Nowhere," he said. "You exist now because of my will."
He kicked Sean in the stomach to drive home the point. He had all of the power and was keen to let his captive know the hopelessness of the situation. Sean wrenched in pain under the weight of his steel toed boots.
"Please..." he begged. "Why are you doing this?"
He laughed aloud. "Why does anyone do anything?" Another kick to the side.
"Mercy..." he slurred. The pills were wearing off, though his brain was still visibly foggy.
He bent down and stared at Sean in contemplation. His eyes were filled with sorrow and confusion. He was loving everything but the glimmer of hope in the eyes of his victim. His hands reached out in the darkness and found Sean's neck. He pressed the carotid artery with his thumb, stopping the blood flow to his brain.
"Did you show mercy when you brutally raped an innocent girl? Did you show mercy when you fucked her over and over again for three days? Where was your mercy then? I didn't show Mercy to your friend, so why should I now? Can you give me one reason?" He let up on the artery to avoid having Sean pass out. He wanted him to be awake for all of this. He wanted him to feel everything that he felt...everything that she felt.
Tears gathered in Sean's eyes and fell to the dirt. He opened the trunk and pulled out a rope. Sean tried to get up and run but stumbled under the combined influence of the drug and the dizziness caused from the choking. He walked over to his intended and wrapped the rope around his neck. He pulled tight enough to induce fear, but not tight enough to cause a lapse in consciousness. Sean fell to the ground. He dragged him by the neck across the rocks and twigs that led to the cabin. Sean screamed and clawed at the rope.
He screamed aloud in laughter. "No one will hear you out here."
When they reached the door he pressed his boots to the back of Sean's neck, using it as leverage to help the rope do its will. Ten seconds is all it takes. He let up some pressure once his arms fell to the dirt. He stopped to evaluate his handy work and smiled. His heart beat in his brain and he loved every moment of it. His blood was on fire. He had never felt more alive, which was more than he could say for his victim.

WARNING - The following story contains both physical and sexual violence. Potential trigger warning. Proceed with caution if you are easily disturbed.

     He dreams of dark alleys and hidden corners. He is there alone at first, the faint smell of garbage wafting through his nostrils from the nearby dumpsters. He is surrounded by walls on three sides and further alleys on two. He's chosen this corner well.
     Out of the abyss there is a sound of boots imposing their will on concrete. He's heard this sound before dozens of times, but never through the blood pounding in his ears. His veins were on fire, every sense heightened like an animal. He dreams in cliches.
     Two years prior there was an incident. A girl he knew was attacked. The woman he loved ravaged by three men. She told it to him once in a moment of pure trust and comfort. She came from out of town. Relying on the kindness of strangers, she asked for directions and was led to this this alley. She parked her car as they surrounded her, blocked her inside. From that moment she knew hew time was limited. What they didn't know is that so was theirs. She looked to her left and found a gag in her mouth. To her right was a hood placed over her unwilling head. The fire was alight in the deepest corners of his mind. He could only think of one thing to do.
   She woke up strapped to a table, naked and sweating. There was a dull throbbing inside and out. Her head pounded from the wine she was being force fed. She knew there was no escape. No hope. No way out. They took turns laughing and raping her, violating any pretense she had for innocence. Sometimes they would leave her alone for hours at a time. She screamed until her throat was raw. She heard voices but no one came to help. For three days this lasted. Every night after, she screams in her sleep hoping to be heard. She claws and scratches at her bindings but only finds her skin.
     It took him nearly six months to track down the three men responsible for such an atrocity. One of them was unfortunately dead. Two out of three would have to do. This was one of six different alleys across campus that were used as a drug trafficking point. No one would suspect two silhouetted figures alone in an alley.
     Tonight was the night. He had planned and set up for this. He rented a cabin on the Olympic peninsula using a credit card taken from his first victim. The first lived alone and did too many drugs to hold a steady job. He would not be missed for a while, nor would he be found.
     Footsteps filled his head. He could smell cigarette smoke mingling with the already malodorous Seattle air. Closer it came and louder was the pounding in his ears.
     A tiny red flare flew through the air as the man flicked his cigarette. It landed on the concrete and splattered into pieces.
   "Hey." The man spoke with a deep voice that betrayed the boyish look on his face, barely visible in the darkness of the alley. "You the guy?"
   "Yes," he said in his most mellifluous tone. "Do you have my money?"
   The man walked up to him and handed him a small stack of hundred dollar bills. The faint smell of alcohol attacked his nose. He handed the man a bag of pills. "Guaranteed to give you the best night of your life," he said to the man.
   "Yeah well...we will see about that. Fucking ripoff man I'm telling you." The man took out a pill an examined it. After verifying that everything checked out he swallowed the pill dry, almost as if the man was trying to impress him.
He smiled. It took weeks to acquire this much Flunitrazepam. The man turned to walk away, muttering incoherently to himself. He watched the man carefully, waiting for any sign that the roofie had kicked in. Once he saw the man stumble, he knew he had reached the point of no return. Flunitrazepam has a long half life. They had 18 - 26 hours to get better acquainted.
     He feigned concern and made for the man at a gentle run. "Let me help you," he said. "I have a taxi. I'll take you wherever you need to go. No charge."
     The man muttered an address, but he didn't care. The destination had been set long ago. He helped the man into his taxi that was parked just across the street. One person passing by smiled and asked if they needed help.
    "No," he said. "He just had a little too much I think. Lucky his friends had the smarts to call him a cab."
     "That is very kind of you. Have a nice night!" A woman and her boyfriend.
     How quaint. If only they knew how far love could take you, he thought.
     Hours passed as he drove to the farthest reaches of the Olympic rainforest. No one would disturb them there. Soon vengeance would be in his grasp. The man, Sean, would know what pain truly meant.

So many leaves in this department store
So much dirt on your pristine floor
I can't clean it all myself
I try to hold them in my hands
but they fall through me like sand
I wish that I could put them back on the shelf
No matter how I try to clean and
place the leaves inside of me
they just keep coming back
all muddied, charred, and black
It seems that each one's heavier than the last
You look at me expectantly
I'm helpless now I think you see
But it comforts you to have me around
and When I leave they follow me
through the hills and past the trees
I'm almost driven crazy by the sound
You know I want to stay and play
but I need to dissociate
from all the leaves that fall on this gorgeous autumn day
and sit back as they all burn away

The mirror is looking back at me
eyes pleading silently
begging me to fix
the gaping hole thats in the middle
I was never good with tools but
I do all that I can to keep it from shattering
watching from a distance
but close enough to catch the pieces
Bound and gagged with piano wire,
I watch with horror as the mirror cries
showing me the shards inside
Medication doesn't last forever
Now its done try to forget
Flush away prescription regret
It kills me every time
To see reflected loss of time
Fairy tales sometimes come true
If anyone deserves a happy ending, its you.

Roses are red like my heart bled for you
Crimson parachutes evacuate from 30,000ft
And split into tiny perfect circles on the ground
Painted there displayed like a cheap masterpiece
For you to critique as you see fit
Violets are blue like the violent eyes
Staring back at me as I wonder
how clean the mirror really is
or if its my reflection
that makes the glass filthy.
I see nothing but your judgement
as I look across the isle
happier than I've seen you in a long while
and I'm not there.
I left myself on the ground
So I open the door and jump
plummeting to the ocean floor
When I turn I see your face
as the plane flies away

Ice Cream and Hyperbole

New website!

Olympic Sunday Morning

Number One - An Internal Monologue

Whispers

In Dreams (part 3)

In Dreams (part 2)

In Dreams (part 1)

Leaves

Mirrors

Cassy

Blog Archive

Emily's Surgery Fund

Popular Posts

About us

Labels

Translate

Share story

Share story

Share story

Share story

Share story

Share story

Share story

Share story

Share story

Share story

Blog Archive

Emily's Surgery Fund

Popular Posts