Cleavage 4

Repugnant.

Brief moments ago we were one. All that was felt was that one. It was one image in time and space. There was lust. And greedily I satiated it.

Our bodies met in all magnitude. And she wasn't so real to me. Martha. The fungus feeding on my rotten flesh. Now I truly feel her. I don't feel the heat between two bodies. Now there's only me and her. And it stings my senses this awareness of an alien body attached to mine. Martha my abortion. I want to shake her off. Cut all cords. Wash my body and mind. Watching her dissolve into the water and disappear through the drain. Martha Martha Martha Martha Martha Martha Martha Martha Martha. Fuck you Martha!

Martha fucker.

Ha.

Why are we drawn to dead animals? Why do we poke them with a stick? Why do we glorify their entrails?

Is she the dead animal I wonder. Or am I the one about to die. I feel sick. In the head. I want to kick her. I want to get rid of her. I want to bag her and bury her somewhere. This is my humiliation and I should not be reminded of it anymore. I don't want her skin on mine anymore. It stinks. Stinks of sweat and no self respect.

"What are you thinking?"

What is suppose to be a tender smile seems to me an imploring stare. Take pity on me, her eyes cry out. And I want to. I want to end her misery and therefore end mine. I want to shoot her in that pathetic smile.

"Nothing."

I'm a Martha fucker. Ha. God.

"I'm so happy you came!"

Just disappear.

"It was great. You were great."

Stop scrounging for pleasantries.

"You ARE great!"

Just shut up!

Why am I smiling back at her?! I spew at my own hypocrisy. I should just end it right here. And let her have her anger. She has a right to it.

No.

No.

She doesn't!

A being so idiotic has no right to anger. That right must be taken with one's bare hands. And she hasn't got the brain for it. She can't even grasp the idea of self-respect.

Why did I come here?

"Listen, is it okay if I have a shower?"

"Of course honey. Can I come? Hm?"

That would defeat the god damn purpose of the shower now wouldn't it you stupid bitch?!

"Yeah that'd be great but I need to hurry up. I, hm, I need, I need to go. I had completely forgotten about this thing with a friend of mine."

"Oh.."

"Yeah, he's in a really shitty situation right now. Family problems, work problems, girl problems, everything basically."

"Oh, poor thing. And you're going to the rescue? You're such a sweet friend."

Are you that fucking stupid or do you think acting this naive is charming?!

"Yeah, you know. So.. Yeah, I have to hurry up."

Hurry up to the shower. To skin myself. To rinse all the foreign fluids in my body. To intoxicate the water pipes with the stench of you.

Darling You're a Star

I'm walking to where the sun does rise
what are you all if not my surprise

just lock and load
and sock the toad

someone's scrambling eggs up in the sky
someone, something, somewhere I don't know why

there's a big tip under the jar
just a nip so you can't go far

drunk and nauseous on your flower powerless
you come in pinkyellowblue, oh you fluoresce

all this you get to choose from
oh oh excited oh oh clap clap dumb

Crapshooter

drowning
your legs shaped like number four
you're losing all and a bit more
with your eyes set on number eight
and now it's late
and now it's late

frowning
all is good when it fits in a jar
sleeping six figurines in the back of a car
you put it down for the long brown tail
and now you wail
and now you wail

squinting
the man at the shop is now married twice
he's got your ring, you have the rice
watching memories on battered dust
now run you must
now run you must

Don't Be a Whino

I am done for
I am one for

grapes and beads around your neck
I stare at their course with all due respect
theirs is closer
our's too far
swarming around around around

some say grapes when crushed make wine
so is that why, is that why you whine
as I get closer
I was too far
orbiting around around around

forgive my case of winecrophilia
now that I'm drunk, I'm gonna feel ya
and suck on the last crushed grape
your neck is in the worse state

but I love you just the way you are
(dead, soaked in wine, in the back of my car)

Cleavage 3

This is a mess. It's revolting. I wake up and go to sleep surrounded by filth and abandon. I'm an orphan of life. I breathe and I rot.

If I was to die in my sleep it would be such a decadent sight to the one who'd find my naked body in bed, between sheets of sweat, sperm and spit. The three magic Ss. And who would that be exactly? My landlord complaining about the rent? The neighbours complaining about the stench? A thief in the night complaining about the amount of worthless shit I've always found hard to get rid of and that currently reside on top of every flat surface in the house?

What do I care? It's not disturbing enough to make me change so I guess it's just not disturbing at all. Not in my sick, coward mind.

In a few years I'm part of a great group of people that get together to share life experience. And we love one another. We live in harmony. We sing in harmony. We are all gifted people with much hunger for knowledge. And every odd day we throw caution to the wind and have a ball. Skin dances with skin and skin and skin and skin and tongue. And we're all part of something beautiful. A glorious all powerful being that breathes and thinks and makes mistakes and learns from them. An organism that loves. A love unashamed and unreserved. With a heart that's unbreakable and impervious to jealousy, doubt or fear.

Yes.

No.

Fucking dreams will be the end of me.

Where did I put her number... Oh.

"Hey Martha, yeah it's me.
...
So you're still home?
...
Yeah, I'll be there in twenty.
...
Yeah, right, see you soon."

Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds

Lover sounds distressed,
she's hearing things and
believing

in the back of her mind,
there's fear
knitting

her soul is aging
she's seen too much
she wants to lie in trust
she wants to lie in trust

Lover sounds distressed,
birds singing sound like
screaming

once her world burnt,
skinned her heart while she was
dreaming

her heart's the liver
she drank too much
she wants to lie in trust
she wants to lie in trust

Old House

I feel I could snap my spine in two if I leaned back in a certain way. Applying just the right amount of pressure. I can even hear it. Feel it break. Not the pain, that will always be new to me. As those retarded creatures that are unable to learn by repetition. But I can feel it, as if it weren't my bones but someone else's held firmly by my hands. I can feel it break on my palms. It's such a pleasant feeling. Makes me so aware of life. Reminds me of all that is happening when nothing in fact is. Everything is so exaggerated. Every sound amplified. Like in a big old country mansion, late at night, the house becomes alive. It was of course always living and breathing but only then are you awaken to it. And you must embrace it. As I do. Drink all this life inside life itself. The pounding of the heart, the breathing, the slight hindrance in your breathing pipes provoking the air to whisper a very low almost silent tune through your mouth or nose. I hear my bones wearing out. One more cell dying. My skin recycling itself. I hear it all. I hear me whole. I am alive.

The Playhouse

She was thinking of me I'm sure. Now she'll put on a different act, a different mask but I can still see the incriminating glow in her eye. I'm sure she was thinking of me.

"What're you doing here?"

"I just thought I'd pay you a little visit"

Oh don't turn your back..

"I told you not to come."

"Yeah I know but I.."

"You can go now."

"Doll come on.."

Don't make me chase you, it's getting ridiculous.

"Close the door when you leave. And make it soon."

"Doll.."

"Goodbye James."

Oh get out of the bathroom. She thinks I'm gonna leave? She's hiding from me? Lord..

"Please, will you just come out so we can talk?"

I need to look her in the eyes to do this. I can't talk through a door. I need to know what she feels as every single one of my words crashes in her ears. I need to see it.

"Doll just come talk to me for a minute! Please!"

"I'm in the fucking bathroom James. Get the fuck out! There's nothing to talk about!"

"There is, you know there is! I messed up! I know!"

"Go away!!"

"I can't! You know I can't!! We deserve, you deserve to have me fighting for you! Fight for us!!"

"Oh shut up!"

"You deserve it!! You know.."

"SHUT THE FUCK UP!! SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP!!!!"

Fuck.. I can only feel hate. Nothing more. This isn't good.

On the other hand, hate is strong. And that's good. Strong feelings are good.

"I'm sorry... I can't go..."

Door opening! Door opening! Her long fingers, her soft white arm with the tiny almost invisible yellow hairs only I know are there, her round sweet breasts, the flesh on her neck, her beautiful face.

"Quit the wimpy crap James. I've seen you put on your sorrowful bullshit show before."

Fuck. She's cold. And running off again. Come here. Look at me damnit!

"I love you! Look at me!! Just look at me! You know this is true!!"

Stop. Turn to me. Yes. Yes! Come to me! Yes!!

"James, listen hard, even if you do.."

"I do! You know I do! Look into my eyes!!"

"Listen! Even if you do, I don't give a shit! Understand? I don't care!"

"That's not true. You're just afraid of trusting me again. I know.."

I've never seen her like this. This coldness in her eyes. I can't get through that ice vest. Fuck!

"James, I'm calmly asking you to leave. So please leave now. Don't make me call the police."

FUCK!!

"Please leave now."

WHORE!!!

FUCK FUCK FUCK!!!

She closed the door behind me. Didn't even give time to NOT look back at her. FUCK!! What am I gonna do? This is bullshit. She couldn't be over me that quick. I've screwed up before and I fixed it. I can have her back. I know I can. Bitch. I can have her on her knees. Me looking down on her. As I have done before. With the power to crush her. I can do it. I want her crawling beneath my foot. I need her there. Right there.

No Sir

you don't have to be kind,
respect your killings

love is not required
a ring is quite enough

don't need to stretch out
your soft virginal hand

with blood of men
to help, but you can

and you can seek the sadness
behind her glazed eyes

but it's not your job to care
you say

and you say it right
true and honest

teeth were not made to smile

Cleavage 2

I don't know how right Chuck Barris really was. In this day and age most people's dreams and hopes wouldn't go as high as obtaining the damn refrigerator so in fact the show would only end when the greed filled their sick little minds and they'd just start shooting each..

"Watch out!!"

Fucking colourblind wanker. RED!! It's red!!
Are you late for your asshole appointment?! What and you still have to go by the idiot shop to get a stupidity refill?!

Anyway, they'd just end up shooting each other for the god damn fridge.

I wonder if people actually had all those things they think are the vessels to happiness they would finally be forced to confront their true life dilemmas. If all their shallow material cravings were satiated would they focus on truly important issues? Probably not. They would just go all Kurt Cobain on their own arses. Fucking losers.

Look at that.

"..like, I'm just saying maybe we should be careful and shit with how we talk to him and I was like, fuck you, who are you to tell me what to do? You know? Total bitch.. Who does she think she is?"

"Yeah I never really liked her."

"Mind her own business, little bitch. You know? We should like, do some.."

Blah blah blah teenage wasteland. I guess we're at a stage where it's twenteen and even thirtyteen sometimes.

Ah and of course..

"Tap tap tap.. haha!!"

"Haha you want to tap that?"

"Haha.."

Depressing little humanoids.

Oh, I should go shopping. I've nothing to cook. I should cook more often. Or just eat a massive McCoronary Thrombosis and get it over with. I'd waste less time. Less time thinking. Less time depressing. Less time hating everyone. Hating me most of the time. Less time dreaming about a great future, with meaning. One more time with feeling. Ha..

It's just little changes. The smallest ones. The ones you know will get you on track. But you're just focused on that finishing line. The damn clouds. You can't jump from here. You have to go step after step after step after step after step. That's the only way to get there. But those first steps seem so unimportant, so meaningless that you can not gather the right amount of will power to just do it! Fuck, just do it! Get on track!

Oh fuck it.

"Evening. Yeah, just the large fries."

"No pizza boss?"

"Yeah you know what.. Three slices."

Cleavage

Today is hell. Everyone's so giddy, delighted with the weather. This ability to find joy in the simplest things is both our hope and doom. Makes life a bit more bearable and turns our head away from the big infinite tragedy. Even while slowly climbing down to the abyss we manage to stop and smell the flowers.

"It's a great day hm? I might be going for a walk or something. I don't really have anything to do you know?"

So obvious aren't you? I find myself despising your ignorance. Your bursting breasts sicken me. Me admiring them sickens me the most. How pathetic you are. I've overlooked your existence ever since the first day I met you. So why would you be even slightly more hopeful today? Do you think it's your sex that will blossom in me a longing for you and your dull ways?

"Yeah, you should. It's a nice day for walking."

Go, go, go.

"Right, yeah, I mean, you wanna come? We could go and drink something. Somewhere."

Maybe if I ignore her she'll go away. It works with small children. And dogs.

"Or maybe, you know, there's a great terrace in my building. Only I have the key for some reason."

If only your sense of smell was as acute as those of dogs you'd have smelt my indifference. You'd in fact be nauseous by now seeing as I reek of it.

"We could go there and, you know, I could get some drinks and we'd just sit. And talk. Or, you know, whatever we felt like doing."

And then we would fuck each other senseless and you'd cling on me for the rest of my life and I'd feel dirty as dirty can be. Yeah, I get it sugar. Give up.

"It'd be nice, I think."

"Yeah, I don't think that's gonna work. I've got some stuff to do today."

"Oh come on, what stuff? It'd be great, really. I have beer in the fridge and all. We can get some pizza or something."

What are you doing? Yes, I've seen your breasts. Thank you, please remove them from under my nose. And let go of my hand. You little obnoxious creature. Go befriend a shower head or something.

"Yeah, sorry Martha, maybe some other time."

Look how she sulks now. How ridiculous can one person really be I wonder.

"Oh. That's a shame. Ok then. Well, if you change your mind you know where to find me."

"Yeah, definitely."

"Great, see you later then, maybe!"

Oh god, how can you be so impervious to aversion?! For fuck's sake. Who would be hopeful after something like that? Who would leave this conversation with a detestable little giggle and a cutesy whimsy wave of the hand?

Look at her going, so happy, blushing as a row of losers admire her like a fat bastard at a McDonald's factory. Revolting piece of meat. So easy to please. Proud of her nothings. Her cheap thrills. Flaunting her insignificance in tones of pink and yellow. If you were even just slightly aware of how pathetic your existence really is you would need no other instruments or pills because you'd burst yourself in flames right then and there. But you probably would just dismiss it all with a laugh and think I was kidding and come on to me a little bit more. Why do I even care about these flawless excrement specimens? A wasted struggle it seems sometimes. Obliviousness is the easy way indeed.

You.

All of your majesty.

All of your majesty.

All of your majesty.

Now is nothing but loss. Waves of vultures drawing near but always far. And we stand between you and them. But it's no longer you. It's just the cloak, the long beautiful golden vest of kings. Growing colder and colder. Not all the warmth from our blushed cheeks could warm it now. Not all our caresses. Not all our warm tears. We're here just to stop them from devouring you. What is not you. No longer. But still you, the you we can touch and see and cry for. Feel pain and despair. That YOU lies there among the black widows. That YOU is gone.

You live regardless.

Packing

Life has hanged for long before this dream. But I held control over it. I pushed on one side or the other to keep it balancing. Always from side to side. Sometimes a glimpse of moving forward. But I always knew it was a dream inside a dream. Never took me long to gather the hints and make up the truth.

There's no control now. And the dream has faded away as if it never even existed. It was only just slightly burning and I offered my oxygen as fuel for it to grow. To grow back to it's previous glorious shape. But there's no control now for this is not a dream. And life hangs indeed but by a thread. And long have I stood face to face with it and mocked it's fragility. Enjoyed not living for it meant not dying. Deception is the cave I've hidden myself in for years and ever.

Life waltzes in slow motion around me. Around a shape that resembles in some ways a person. What am I besides a. Besides a. I'm a. Just a. Nothing more then a.

nothing nothing nothing nothing nothing nothing nothing nothing nothing nothing nothing nothing nothing

Socks. Boxers. Don't need a razor. My black jumper's dirty with toothpaste. Need to wash that. I need, god what do I need? I need jeans that don't have fucking holes in them. He would laugh at it though. Maybe a button shirt or two. Which jacket? I don't even wear the black one that much. Books, perhaps. I don't know if I'll be in the mood for it. Although, Sartre has always been good at capturing my attention and it would be good to think about something else. Fucking chicken. I don't know. What do you pack for a funeral anyway?

Cause or Consequence

She paused and pondered.

This is foolish. I insist on summoning him and then kick him off of the porch like the disgusting dirty stray dog that he is. I can't ever have anything to do with such a creature. One that creeps about with hunger for misery. Trying to bring ruin upon himself by lying by my ruins.

Her left foot sunk in the screeching boards and she knew there was no escape now. He never needed doorbells. And his existence was one of solitude so it was sure that soon enough his sun wrinkled skin would make an appearance through the living room's window.

What am I doing here? How long until I swerve from this agonizing death circle? I request his presence beneath my feet over and over again. And I slide with him onto this bed of sickness. With him I can be the bug and the squasher. I can't leave now.

Eyes set on the lamp above the front door she waited. Through the glass she could see the dead insects that formed almost a carpet. Soon it would be night and more little flying things would come to wander around the corpses. And they would see the light shine through the bodies of their falling brothers almost making them alive again.

It was too long. By now she should already be in his sickening comforting arms, in his old red couch that reeks of an oddly enough soft smelling combination of beer, sweat, sex and cheese. She kept on balancing her weight on her left foot as if she was a demented violin player detuning his instrument in the silent evening.

Oh, where the hell is he? I'm not going to wait for him. He's the dog not me. How dare he?

She let anger take hold of her. She sought every shred of rage and griped it in her clenched fist, keeping it close to her heart. She was pinching the skin hard so she wouldn't feel the burn. And this burn was a sort of pain that she could not allow to take place. Not inside her. And not because of him or anyone else.

But she kept still. She slowly went to the door. Halted for a second and looked around for witnesses.

Fuck it, I'll just knock. I'm doing him a favor. He'll regret it not being here.

She knocked once quickly as if afraid that the door would suck her in as a black hole. For a moment she smiled internally thinking of those people in movies that can't even wait one second for someone to come open the door before they freak out thinking something might have happened. But then the second was over. And after that many more came raining down but with no answer. She knocked again. Twice this time. Her head bent to try and capture even the slightest disturbance inside the house. Her fingers against the door.

Where are you? I need you. No. You fucking bastard. I need you. Where are you?

She walked away. She would never tell him about this.

I'll never come for him again. Ever. This is goodbye.

The rage was dissolving into sadness. Quiet accepting sadness. And she would be back again.

Every D Day

Cute kid. Crash haha... Crash again, that's it kid, kill the fuckers. GI Joe ain't what it used to be hm? I'm with you on that one. Haha.. Right over his head.

"So are you educating kiddo there to become a truck driving killer machine, big sis?"
"Whatever serial killer aptitudes he might have I'm sure he got them from his uncle."

She looks damn tired. But there's a calmness to it. Don't know how she does it.. Uhh cake..

"Can I?"
"Of course."

Large, not so large, larger than that, yeah that's fine.

"Anyway, I could never do a great serial killer."
"I don't know Carl, you've done a lot of weird girls."
"Ha ha.. Hilarious stuff sis. But that subject actually has a lot to do with it. I was never good with sticking with anything. I'd be on top of a building not knowing whose head I'd like better to see squashed on the pavement."
"Yeah, haha.. Or as soon as you knocked one out, you'd realize her friend was probably a better victim. You'd be the only first stage serial killer. You'd knock them all out, perhaps even strap them to a chair or something and just leave them there."
"Haha good one.."

What.. wait..

"Was that one directed at my sexual life again?"
"Do you have any other life?"

She's joking but I can detect something else. Kid, run her over. This has to be about Dina. Kid, do it now!

"Honey, no running mummy over, you might hurt her. You don't want to hurt mummy do you?"

Do it kid do it! Mental powers act now! Oh darn, that's not fair, give him back his truck..

"Are you pissed because I had a thing with Dina?"
"And by thing you mean sex."

Oh fuck it, I knew it. I knew it.

"It was a pretty shitty thing to do. You knew she had a lot going on."
"Hold on hold on. It's like you're saying I took advantage."
"You know what I'm saying. You're not stupid. You know perfectly well the last thing she needed was a night of affection with someone like you."
"That's nice."
"You know what I mean."

Yeah yeah, you're Miss perfect and I'm Mister fuck up. Don't really know what I'm doing with my life and all that bullshit.

"Look, I didn't go after her. She came to me."
"Oh come on Carl. You know perfectly well what you do when you do what you do."

Oh for fuck's sake. She wanted to get laid and so she did, big fucking deal.

"Are you flirting with me big sis?"

Oh great lord of tomfoolery.. hit it.. hit it.. come on.. chuckle..

"Are you getting uncomfortable now?"
"What? No come on, it was just a joke."
"Right. Whatever, it's your life, just try and be more aware that your life actually coincides with other peoples lives at some point."

Blah blah blah.. Always the same shit. I'm just a selfish over grown infant and all that jazz. I don't even know why I came here today in the first place. Cake is good though. I must be a fucking masochist. Yeah, just helped fucking up her friend's mind (and not only) a little further so why not go see if it really landed. Fucking silence. What was I suppose to do? In fact, if I had said no, then it would just add up to yet another rejection in Dina's life. Another failure. Why don't you see it that way sis? Hm? Fuck.. I really must love these trips down guilt road. Fucking silence.

"Right, I'm gonna go then."
"Okay Carl, thanks for the visit."
"Yeah, sure. Take care. My regards to Richard"
"I'll tell him. Maybe you can come next weekend and have dinner with us."

Right..

"Hm, definitely, I'll see if I'm free and give you a ring."
"Okay then little brother, fare thee well."
"Yeah, bye sis. Bye there little man."

Poor kid. Fucked up species you've chosen to try and make your way into this world. You should have tried being a Panda. At least you'd get dumb humans feeding you and even getting you laid all the time. None of this bullshit.

Damn, it got cold. I'm still walking home though. Dry cold versus sweaty hot bus is a no contest.

Sarah, Sarah, Sarah.. First her friends, then her brother. Always the same. Why is it that the longer people know you, the less they seem to worry about you? She assumes so much. Yeah I just fucked her and that's it. It's what I've always done. It's what I am. What if I like her? What if I'm in a rut myself? What if a thousand other reasons? Yeah, that just fits in with Carl's usual behavior. Ever considered asking me how I'm doing? People grow old and all they start caring about is what you did or not do. They don't ponder about the whys anymore. We get so fucking pragmatic. Yeah, he fucked her and then ran for his life the next morning cause you know, that's what he is. He is his facts. Oh bullshit. When we're teens all we care about is the reason. And we come up with so many. The ever believers. Oh there must be a reason for him to treat me like shit. Oh yeah she did fuck my brother but I'm sure she was just having troubles dealing with my virility. Ha.. And then we turn into these cynic machines, we pass judgment so quickly. As cruel as children can be.

Quotidian

Hello, how're things, bye. Hello, how're things, bye. Hello, how're things, bye.

Hello. CHECK
How're things. CHECK
Bye. CHECK

The mandatory pleasantries set in as things are forgiven but never forgotten. We feel it's almost as a contractual obligation due to all that was left behind. But it wasn't buried deep enough. We can still smell it but no word is spoken about it. Suck it in! It's always there, contaminating. Like the ruins of an old house that were never completely removed and the land on which it stands knows nothing more than what before was erected above it. We're sat awkwardly on the leftovers of yesterdays. As two stubborn donkeys consumed by guilt, feeling we owe it to one another.

There are no foundations anymore. It's all a wreckage. The ship crashed into the rocks finally after years of sailing in the dark. And now what to do?

I tell you it's all wasted. The few pieces of wood that still remain down by the rocks were all bent and shaped for that ship only. They're all impregnated by the waters that we sailed together and that's why we can't even watch them burn.

All that's left is walking away from the wreck.

Do Not Feed

They tell me it's driven by fear. Twisting and turning well-known clichées themselves have already tattooed on their atrophied brains. I've heard about their way of living. How's it any different? I at least have a way out. Easy they say? Then why not do it themselves? Often have I wondered what keeps them from giving themselves to it. What is it about this numb existence that still makes them go on? Ha.. the old joke, awful and in such small portions. It's almost as if they like their cages. They feel comfortable inside them. They adorn the space between the bars with their enslaving achievements. The great flat screen on which they watch the great flat lives and great flat lies that haunt theirs. That which brings comfort to their own short comings. The pain and disappointment on the face of dreamers are their fuel. They see it from inside their cages and mask their sadist content behind the miserable curtains of fear. But I see them too. And so easy is it for me to understand their truth. How it fits oh so perfectly in that little sign just by their cage. No, not by their cage. There's no need. It's one short sign for them all. It's the same cage anyway. The sign tells me they're humans but I know better.

short essay on something else part 2

It dazzled her. So overwhelming it was. All of her dreams that once seemed foolish and always made her feel as a child, now bloomed before her eyes. There was cheerful reverence in their faces. Each one of their words felt as warm cider shed delicately on her innocent craving heart. She took every word, grateful but not shyly, as she had caught every rose thrown on to the stage earlier that evening, knowing herself now. No arrogance could be found in the proud aura that glowed around her precious features. It was all simple acceptance. Doubt and fear had not survived in this new light. As creatures of the shadows, they perished as she grew stronger and aware of her power. As a dark silk veil that sickly kept her in it's dissimulated assurance, it could not withstand the strong cleansing winds of the light. The light that he had shown her. He had made her believe. And so she could not perceive the reasons to the obscurity of the disapproving expression that painted his front.

Why this now? At the moment of my coronation. The moment he so many times prophesied. Why this darkness my loving one? What makes you set yourself apart from this happiest of times? Am I less than you imagined? Am I not what you wanted? How have I disappointed you? Where is the pride in your eyes? Am I not worthy of it? Never good enough is it? I who was nothing and nothing I should have kept on being if it was not for your guiding hand. Why do you eye me with such discontentment? How have I failed you? How?

Soon sadness was at the gates of her heart. As vultures surrounding the doomed thirsty vagrant that once scurried with wandering eyes through the many monuments of the natural world. Darkening the soul and heart, weakening while just waiting. So that soon the gates would themselves invite the enemy in. But she would have none of this. No, especially not from him. She had given himself to him, trusted her heart only to him. And so she felt, she owed him nothing. This was time for them to walk side by side. Equals were they, she was strong and so was he.

Why encourage me then? Would he have me for ever be his poor sick child. Always in need of help and reassurance? What selfishness drives him to unwelcome this glory in which I am now bathed in? I curse him! I curse him in his fastidious attempt to make me feel unworthy. How could he? Was it all lies? Did he not truly believe in me as he so often had told me? When I was kneeling, with fear weaving a deceitful blanket around my heart as if nesting it on a cradle of leeches. Did he not mean it then? What sickening protecting cloth did he too clothe me in? Alas, he eyes me and those around me with disgust. How cruel a beast. Wishing grudgingly that he had incited me just a bit less. So that I would continue my life diminished, limping, ever relying on his goodness. His goodness? What goodness is this? How blind I must have been, how hungry for love that I would misread his goodness. His goodness!? Bloodsucking beast! Can this be the dark pure truth? Why do you eye me in such grave manner? Why this from you of all people? My protector, my strength. Is this what you shall leave me with then my love? What torment did you find amidst my good fortune? My well deserved good fortune. Is it not? What awful secret does your once loving heart now hold? Why? Why this?

short essay on something else

And there was satisfaction. Rising above the moderate constant stream of disperse sound there would be an intermittent wave of raucous joy. He stood there contemplating her. Not the same now, he felt his once loving and inspiring grip tighten in such an abrupt selfish way as a swarm of flying beasts quickly clothing their prey, making it nothing but the killing. So he felt now, selfishness personified.

Why this? The happiness irradiated from her eyes can't really be true. She must see through all this. It's empty this vassalage. They love her not. What do they know? What love had they for her before I thrust her into the light? To her beauty they were blind. Not once did they stand before her with true amazement in their eyes. No! Not until I took her by the hand and made her aware of the shining ardour of love for life that laid alone moribund inside. Hollow worship. Disgusting creatures. Let them baffle you with these trophies of golden dust. Dust still.

Envy now took over. Not of her success. Not of her brilliance that he could never attain. Not that which he had help bring out of the shadows. Combed her wings, helped her shape them so that she could rise above any cloud of self disbelief that shaded the light that was rightfully hers. No none of that. He envied them. Them to whom she now dole out her appreciation. That smile, without a hint of doubt in herself. That, he felt should be directed at him. He her father. He her protector. Her brother, her lover. Her guardian and encourager. And to him she could never open her wings, resplendent, knowing of her beauty beyond compare, aware of nothing else, with no shame or fear. This he had never taken for himself. And this he envied.

What is my sin in this rotten play? Is it cruel to despise this glory that I so many times foresaw and tried always in vain to convince her of? Is it evil of me to want to pull her back into the darkness where only I possessed the power to see beyond mind numbing fear the oasis of passion and virtue in her? Why is that? Why? If I saw it and not them. They are all fools. Greedy fools hoping to gain from this pure soul. Why is it evil then? I hate myself for letting these thoughts inhabit my mind. I who had nothing more than grateful love for her. I hate her for turning me into this envious beast. I held her once in my hand and took great pride in it. Caring for her like none before me. I, her saviour. And now, I wish she would sit there still. If my tightened grip should crush her, then so be it. She is lost anyway. And along with her am I. I wither with her deceitful strength now.

short essay on something

He calmly put the book down on the table knowing very well it was time. There was a limit even to the truly motherly patience inherent in her and such extinction, however temporary it might be, was not one to be taken lightly. She had stated her case several times and at the end of each sentence it became very easy to perceive that her point was to be made clear and be taken into account. He knew this, he was long accustomed to this ritual, this escalating display of arguments, more and more firm and concise. He preferred to wait and even though he kept reading in this case or ensuing many other tasks on so many other occasions, he would always be careful enough as to make her know that in no way was he disregarding her opinions and was in fact aknowledging her every thought. Even if she doubted this, sure enough he would in his caring and thoughtful reply sum up all of her ideas as to let her know he had taken all points in consideration.
So he placed his dear Hermann on the wooden table, with his eyes still set on the cover as if mesmerized by it but in his mind he was already constructing the opening lines to his counter-argument. "Dear, I honestly don't give a flying crap if Theodore already has one or not. You're not getting a new mobile phone. Deal with it."
She gasped, in shock and astonishment, slightly puzzled as to why her father would reply in such an imposing manner and rose to her feet, eying him with nothing but pure hatred. "AAAHH" she screeched with her fists clenched so tight, bacteria would feel uncomfortable. And then with "I hate you! I wish you'd have died in mum's place!!" she left the room, silent, unshaken by such cruel and unfair words. This room where he now pondered the possibility of having pasta for lunch. But briefly after this thought had been formed in his mind, he decided against it and kept on reading dearest Hermann.

Hunger

Step by step, steeper and steeper, it converges and leaves me unguarded, with nothing to lean on. As I climb I'm conscious that it is not a path leading to choice. Though it is not imprisonment. It is a newly born river that grows stronger as it gains more speed and penetrates the land through the tiniest almost invisible breaches. And as I climb I'm made more and more aware of the power it holds over me. The adrenaline reaches levels never dreamt of. If I stop to look, frightful sight, there's only abyss surrounding. My own feet stand on thin air. And yet I know the steps are there so I take each one, hopeful, no, sure that it won't be my fall. Well not now. I expect it, yes, I know of this liability just as I know I must not fear death for it shall come in it's due time. And if my feet do not meet solid ground at some point on this fiery journey, I shall embrace my fall. And there may be times when I will condemn it all and have no reserves in damning all souls that creep in to look at my splattered life in the depths of the great abyss. But if I climb, it is only because of it's existence. Of the tragedy of life. Of the tragedy of love. The thin thread. The walk of faith. The running naked towards the sun, marveled by the light and the ever present possibility of, at any point in that great exploding barefoot extra sensory flight, bursting into flames and cease to be. And the irony laughs loud and clear inside. The fall brings truth to the flight. Truth that, amidst tears, blood and guts spilled, gives me certainty of greatness. Glorious glorious life.

Memoirs

Inside
'cause
Merciless

Vultures
Endlessly
Revolve
Yonder,

Feargluttons
United
Creatures
Knifing
In
Nothingmen
Griefless

Daren't
Rest
Until
Nothing's
Kept

Eternal Life Reprise

bite your silver spoon
drink your silver spoon
it's tasteless, it's all been consumed

men's suicide's fueled by fear
weak men aroused by tears
you pay for love, but we pay it dear

F F S

Why did I even come here? For fuck's sake.. It's everything, the stench is the worst but it's everything. Everything that's revolving around me. Everything that stands afar. So I can't even start to envision it. All the things I hold in. Things exhaled dissolving in thin air. It's that god damn smell. I've scraped every inch. I'm skinless. But there it is still. It reeks of you. But you're infinite lives away. Tragedies far greater in between. Spit, blood, disease, sperm, formidable lives, admirable deaths. Strings cut, footprints inexistent, my own smell I inhale it completely, distorted sounds, the mighty blue is redder now and still I'm clothed in you. The worst is your fucking precious odor.

Empty

There's a unspoken agreement between eyes. Sad faces accomplices of smaller ignored tragedies.
Slow life long crimes. Bullets flying in the dead of day. In the pale light. In front of us. Inside of us.

No longer bricks. Grains perhaps. Rushing towards the unthinkable. Billions of perfectly grotesque plain white snow flakes. All for one. No. It's cheaper now. All for nothing.

So we reach. So we grab. So we punch. So we stab. So we see. We're still blood and guts inside. We're still animals. We're still living things. We'll turn into vampires. At the sight of the old holy red water we'll suddenly go thirsty. The thirst a million bottled everythings could not kill. We're animals. We're living creatures.

We're not the chosen ones. But we have a choice.

Wanting is now, and now, and now..

your name's in a paper I forget
with dirt and sand from foreign dreams
in a turmoiled leather bound pocket

scratching my fingers
prickling my heart
returning to me what lost was deemed

minutes rain, one drop at a time
my new virgin skin tastes each one
I fade away from the slowest crime

the ever beggar
the ever waster
I sing their tragedy but I am none

words are deceitful
my therapy my torture

did I manage once to lose myself
am I trudging in hope of constant hell
I'm my own fault
I'm fortune I'm failure