New website!

3:32 PM 0 Comments

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

www.icecreamandhyperbole.com

Olympic Sunday Morning

3:59 PM Poetry 0 Comments

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

Number One - An Internal Monologue

3:29 PM Poetry 0 Comments

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. 

Whispers

4:14 PM Poetry 0 Comments

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."

In Dreams (part 3)

2:55 PM Short Stories 0 Comments

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.

In Dreams (part 2)

8:27 PM Short Stories 0 Comments

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.

In Dreams (part 1)

2:53 PM Short Stories 0 Comments

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.

Leaves

2:49 PM Poetry 0 Comments

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

Mirrors

2:25 PM Poetry 0 Comments

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.

Cassy

2:15 PM Poetry 0 Comments

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

Tennessee

2:11 PM Poetry 0 Comments

"Its been such a long day," I whisper to myself
As the Tennessee hills are zooming past
You look so tired sitting there
The wind dancing with your hair
As happy music imposes itself
The silence is so deafening
These happy songs don't mean a thing
We both know why we're driving here
Running from this constant fear
Of ghosts and cold and broken home
Of more than just being alone
Driving from persistent pyre
Fueled by only tears and fire
I don't know where we're going
But I hope we make it there alive
Its dark outside, should we sleep now?
Pull into the rest stop just to get a little rest
No, we aren't there yet
But if you swallow all your sorrow
Close your eyes and just wait
We'll be there by tomorrow

She

8:02 PM Poetry 0 Comments

She sits (e)motionless, rewind
She's crying for hours at a time
Every night that she tries
She puts on her face but its all just a lie
All the shit that she buys
To fill the place where she was left behind
She's cutting her ties
Just to buy her some time
Now the wood where she sits
Doesn't make her feel more alive
Of course she revives
but she's dying inside
Expel, go through hell, clean up but never tell
Every cell in her body screaming no
But theres nowhere to go but up
She tells the wolves to shut up
Tells herself to nut up
She doesn't have to put up
With the voices in her head
that tell her she's fucked up
Try to help her get up
But its like she's stuck
And I can't help but to feel sympathy
Because I've been there before
In that place of darkness
Feeling like you're heartless
But only because its tearing out of your chest
There's no rest for the wicked
Wicked rest for a sick kid
We can buy you a ticket
out of hell
Thats how it feels with this shit

What Its Like

11:32 AM Poetry 0 Comments

So I have a lot of poems I've written that are meant to be spoken word pieces. They are written in a notebook and are very stream of consciousness. I'm starting the process of transcribing them from my notebook to my blog. This is the first.

----
10/04/13

It starts like a wolf whispering in promises and metaphors.
A lone wolf it cries out in the light
making the most innocent past times into an eerie schoolyard scene.
Its shadow breaking up the sunshine creating rays of light
that always seem to fall between my fingers.
Its like an uneasiness too subtle to put into words that creeps inside my veins
filling my heart with doubt.
"Hush," I say. "Sleep now and all will be well."
The wolf growls and slowly cries itself to sleep.
Another day goes by.

Its like a howl on the horizon.
A lone wolf still at the edge of my increasingly putrid thoughts
taunting me with its tell tale heart.
Closer it comes and louder it howls
until I can take no more and I growl back.
The wolf backs down and cries itself to sleep.
Its darker this time, the shadow blocking out the sun almost completely
beads of light piercing through giving me a glimpse of home.
Another day goes by.

Its like a cancer attacking every cell in my body.
I can feel myself giving in to my morbid diathesis
and the wolf has grown too.
Multiplied now in two, it blacks out the sun entirely
biting and scratching in the darkness.
It hunts for my arteries but finds my thighs
parting me like paper liquid guilt spilling out over my ivory skin
and ruining the cheap tile floor that I've chosen as my altar
offering myself as a sacrifice.
Salted memories are stinging my eyes and all I can do is watch it happen
helpless....useless.
All that is left to do is wait for them to sleep and yet another day goes by.

The strength of the wolf is the pack
and this time they speak in confusion and loneliness.
No more metaphors, no more promises.
Just cold hard truth
and all that's left to do is indulge.
Every gasping breath becomes a suicide note
begging to be read by anyone that will take the time
It becomes an answer to everything
Missed work? Kill yourself.
Forgot to feed the cat? Kill yourself.
She's prettier than you? Kill yourself.
Louder and louder the pack surrounds me
telling me I'm worthless
clawing and biting
their teeth leaving scars
the pain is exquisite but they snap at every thought of release
Inside my head I scream but no one can hear

What do I do? What do I do?
Shut up. Shut up. Shut up.

Louder and louder and louder
until I wake up staring into the eyes of the ER doctor
asking me with all the sympathy money can buy
"What did you do to yourself?"

King Street Station

2:07 PM Short Stories 0 Comments

 She speaks, her voice tantalizing my ear. I sit impatiently waiting, watching the Seattle greenery go past and listening to my savior. She is my siren calling to me from across the country. I can hear her song louder in my head as we approach. It reverberates against the walls I've put up around my head, shaking this castle to its very core.

 I see her tying her shoe while trying to hold the phone against her shoulder - standard cell-phone-while-busy position. She is wearing jeans with a black jacket and a yellow-orange scarf. Her hair falls beside her face, framing perfection between the strands. I do not tell her I see her right away. The moment is too perfect so I sit beside her as close as etiquette will allow, possibly a bit closer. I hang up and she doesn't look at me right away. She sits paralyzed by the moment, knowing I am there but unable to speak.

"Hey," I say to her.

"Hi," comes her tentative reply.

Eternities pass in seconds. I know what I want but am afraid she doesn't want the same. I push the thought away and gather the pieces of my heart from my feet to rest them gently on my sleeve.

"I know we are both thinking it, so I'm just going to do it."

I have never been so forward in my life. The risk pays off ten-fold. I gently grab her face and pull myself to her. There are few words that exist in the English language that accurately describe the feeling. My stomach is floating, presumably to gather all of my insecurities. Her lips are soft and warm despite the morning chill. She tastes like promise. She tastes like hope. She tastes like hot chocolate on a cool winter day.

This is my favorite place in Seattle. If I should die tomorrow, do not fret for in this moment I am truly alive.

December, 4th 2004

8:33 AM Short Stories 0 Comments

I was browsing through my old livejournal, which is more embarrassing than not, and I happened upon this story I wrote in 2004. I like to think my writing has evolved from there. I guess this is throwback Friday?

---

William paced the room of his cottage over and over, trying to find an answer. He had spent all of this morning and most of tonight thinking about it. He explored and ripped out every crevice of his mind looking for answers.

"Maybe there aren't any", he thought to himself. "No...there has to be something I'm missing."

The cottage was small and dark with only the light of the moon shining into the corner. William had come from a rich background, his mother and father both noblemen of France. This cottage was all he had to escape from that life. With the constant attention and public appearances, he had no time at all to think. This tiny little cottage in the woods was a lot different from the palace in Marseille. There he had servants, extravagant bedroom sets, the finest food and wine, quality clothing. Lately there seemed little meaning for any of it. The wine had lost its taste, the clothing seemed bland, and the expensive silk on his bed seemed excessive.

Being a nobleman himself, he was naturally brought up to be a man of god. A few nights ago, however, his mother was shocked to hear him speaking the way he did. "Where does god come from? Why did he create us? Do you truly believe, mother? Why do we have to live like this? Is that part of god's plan too? How can you be so sure?"

William was perfectly horrified by it all. Ever since the death of his sister he had questioned the existence of god. This night, however, he would find his answer. He spent all night reading through the bible, various historical accounts, and recent scientific writings. He found nothing.

After hours of pacing, he found rest on the floor in the corner where the moon shown through. He looked up at the moon and the stars the way he had never looked at them before. "What reason have you for doing this to me?", he screamed into the night. "WHY?"

He found that life was meaningless. There was no need for rank or class, just the self. Pain, suffering, dying, guilt, money - it was all meaningless. He would never find any answers, even in death. This was absolutely terrifying. He stood up and burst out the door, running through the woods as fast as he could. He didn't know what he had hoped to find, death perhaps. William was in tears now. He refused to believe it, but every option led to the same conclusion. There are no answers in life, there are no answers in death. He would never know. William was breathing very heavily by now. His bones ached, and he collapsed. He remembered seeing something in the wind, a shadow....perhaps a wolf was coming to take him, just before he passed out.

He awoke by a fire. He was lying on a mattress in a small room with no floor, only the ground beneath. There was a fireplace to his right, and to his left a barred window. The room smelled of fine brandy and biscuits. He also noticed a stone staircase directly in front of him. "Where am I?", he thought. He felt a pain througout his body, and a certain numbness that he had never felt before. The pain of his thoughts still lingered like the foul stench of a rotting corpse. "This has to be some sort of dream."

"You are not dreaming", he heard a voice say to him. William was startled. He scanned the room for someone, but found nothing. "Life has no meaning anymore, does it? I've been watching you William. You are a beautiful creature you know."

"Who are you? Why have you brought me here?"

"Do not be alarmed, I'm not going to harm you. I actually have a gift for you."

Breathe deep

5:49 PM Poetry 0 Comments

Description - This story takes the reader into the mind of a paranoid heroin addict.
 
Breathe deep…..exhale. Slower this time…breathe. Its almost here and I don’t know what to do. Its never been this bad before. Just a few more….

“Angela.”

Who’s there? Is it him again? I knew he would come for me again, I just knew it!

“Angela, are you OK?”

Snap. “What? Umm..” Jolt. “Yeah I…I’m fine.”

“You look tired. Did you sleep last night?” Try as you might Daniel, you’re not getting in again. I will not be your tool. Not again.

Angela looked up at her boss’s face. She was almost panting at this point, as if she was holding onto something with her life. “I’m fine, I’m just a little tired is all.” She managed to choke out a coherent thought in the midst of this madness. Daniel looked down at her with his most sympathetic face and began to speak in his deepest kind-hearted voice.

“Your shift ends in an hour. Just take the rest of the day off. Try to get some sleep.”
Just like the pervert. Get me all rested up for you. Well, if you think this time is going to be the same then you’ve…

“Thank you sir. I … I can send you the rest of the case file by email if you’d like.”

“Get some sleep,” he said as he turned to walk away. Angela waited until he was out of sight, gathered her briefcase and files, and rushed off to her car without speaking to anyone along the way.
The ride home was the longest 30 minutes of her life. Upon entering, she immediately found what she was waiting for all day. Glory. I have been waiting for you all day my love. Bliss set in, that horrible bliss that washed away all the bad thoughts. The needle was cold, or maybe her skin was warm. I don’t know. She unraveled the tourniquet, threw the demon needle on the ground, and began her decent. Sleep. I need sleep. The bed had never felt so comfortable, and the heroin never felt so consuming. Yawn. Exhale. Everything will be better in…just….a few…

“Daniel? What are you doing here? I thought that…”

“Come to me love, I can take you away. No I’m not mad at you. It was only a wedding. You had every right to leave. If you loved my brother more, no one can blame you for that. You must follow your heart.”

Wedding? What is he talking about. I remember….something… Oh yes. The wedding. Our wedding that never was. It was your fault.

The wedding bells were loud and painful to her ears. Everything was black, no…white. Maybe it was both? That’s not important. They were all shades of gray. Here comes the bride. Walk.

The faces in the crowd turned accusingly, piercing through my veins like the needle with whom I had fallen in love. Just keep walking. Monsters. Their faces were pale with cold black eyes, staring at me. That man is not a priest, but an executioner. If only I could see under his hood…Daniel? My love? He was dressed in black with shades of rainbow. “You may kiss the bride.” Came what sounded like the very voice of god, or the devil….my devil. Daniel leaned in to kiss her. Pain pain pain. She felt like someone had just stabbed her in the back. The gentle embrace had become her not so gentle demise. Her body was being ripped apart. She couldn’t breathe. Help. Help. She looked into the crowd as this monster tore at her flesh, the red staining her beautiful white or gray dress. She looked desperately for her mother, but found only mice.

Mice?

Giant mice. Everywhere. Much bigger than she was. She was in a court room. “No further questions your honor,” she said without intending it. She was watching from somewhere….somewhere safe? She didn’t know, but only that she was watching herself. The judge looked at the rat on the witness stand. He stroked his tiny whiskers and appraised the court house. I could see the snide little look on his rat face as he stared a hole through my veins. It burns. “GUILTY,” came the boom of the rat’s voice as he stared straight at Angela. Screaming. Is this me? Am I screaming? Yes, SOMEBODY HELP! The scream came from deep inside the rat’s throat, all the way through my being.

This isn’t a courtroom. Angela could feel the rope around her neck as the executioner pulled the platform away, causing her to fall to her death. The rope squeezed tighter, tighter until she couldn’t breathe anymore. When will I stop falling?

Buzz.

She fell onto a mattress of razorblades. Scream. Pain. The windows came from nowhere and shattered. The glass was sticking into her hands and her eyes. Pain. Everywhere hurt from the glass.

Buzz.

Loud music. Nightmares. Monsters. Help. Someone please help me. Snakes. Everywhere. “Raise above” said the biggest snake. He looked at Angela and spoke clearly and defiantly. Laughter. “Now abhor yourself as much as you revile your own craving. WAKE UP!”
Buzz.

The doorbell was louder than she had ever remembered. She awoke, sweating and screaming. The sound came from the door. “Miss, are you OK? I heard screaming. Hello?”

“I’m…I’m fine it was just…just a nightmare,” Angela managed to choke out through the vomit that was coming up.

“Ok, I was just checking. Are you sure you’re all right?”

“Yes. Please go away.” Vomit.

She looked at the digital alarm clock, which flashed the time in a most taunting way. Midnight already? She needed air. She walked over to the window of her 10th floor apartment and opened the balcony window. Look at yourself. Angela was leaning against the wall at the only spot she had allowed to show light from the outside world. She was shaking. She looked over at the needle on the floor and began crying, screaming.

Angela Erickson, you are dead to me.

Solitude [IRL]

5:43 PM Poetry 0 Comments

I wrote this a while ago.



Life stands still, empty
Dreams unfulfilled, searching
For the impossible?
No.
Hide yourself, such a clever carpenter
Behind a wall of binary
Pixelate your world and you will see
A world of possibilities.
Your dreams in high resolution
Anything you want to be.
Emoti[c]on is a click away
Smile, you're on camera.
Break down the [fire]walls
You can't get to me.

Life speeds up, busy
Get out of [My]Space
Get out of my Face[book]
Sensory reality Trojan horse
Google how it smells
Don't need to feel [animated]
Life has [Digital] meaning
Inhale the fiber optics
LOL [YCG2M]
[Down]load feeling
Up[Load] your life