The soothing pressure brought me the pleasure only the most severe acute pain could stymie. I looked to the sky for the last time, as I knew that I would not endure until time had passed the third moon.
For the first year, the elusiveness of my thoughts had conjured emotions I believed to have been lost to me as a child. A man did not feel this way. A man was strong, detached, and ruthless. A man was to be the provider for the family, bring home what was needed, and care for them so that not one could say that the family ever felt the hardship of destitution. The thoughts, yes, the thoughts. They eluded me at whim. I saw them in my dreams, while I woke, and throughout my day. I could feel it when I was close, and then, yes, they escaped me to live the rest of their lives for someone else. The atrociousness of my quandary, left me wondering if I would not lose my mind and, like the thoughts that evade and pervade at the same time, need to live the rest of my life for someone else. Might it possibly be for a doctor in an institution for the insane, or criminally insane, or perhaps a circus as the lap dog that does those wonderful tricks? I did not know. And, as I pondered this, another of those dreadful thoughts inched closer, waiting, watching, examining my every move as to find the opportune time to overpower me.
I must forget about this. For over two years I have had the pleasure of not having the malevolent thoughts attempt to take me. This could not be more precious to one who has endured such chaos than to have but one second of peace. And, being such a person, I turn my thoughts foolishly to the second year.
Ah, the second year. Like hell in a hand basket delivered to my front door by Satan himself. I endured more than a man should for the second year. While the outside appearance of the second year may have seemed normal to the average passer-by, the truth was that I no longer enjoyed the game that upset so bad, yet still made my life as comfortably miserable as one who enjoys masochism might hope for. The transition, which was not apparent at the time, did not feel like transition at all, but instead, like a slow moving cancer that crept up upon you and slowly ate the insides until nothing remained. The thoughts, which had originally come as sudden as winter, realized the futility of their original angle, and instead came from a different direction. I was unsure if they were there to help, or to hinder, as they had never fully reached me, but they now snuck up on me, reaching as far as the back of my leathery old brain, and as far forward as the tip of my tongue. I could not keep the there, for if I tried, they would attack my brain and leave me in the type of pain one would only wish upon their worst enemy. And so it was, I was left to wither away, only to be remembered by those who knew me for the slight and slow plummet into my current state.
Yes, my current state. Or what you might call, “now.” A sad sight to those who knew me, and those who did not would not care, as I have sadly come to realize. I enjoy the times alone, where the thoughts may not touch me. The vile thoughts, the iniquitous thoughts, the thoughts that have plagued me for years, and only now they have failed their all-important talk. They may not touch me. They may not intrude into my brain to dance around my tongue, or stay in the back of my brain, or sit on the top of my head. They may not violate me anymore. For in my suit of armor I sit. With this armor none can harm the all-mighty, for I am the one who is in control from this point forward. This fine jacket of special powers tells me so; the special meals tell me so; the ever-powerful static which emanates so freely from the four glowing white walls and has bequeathed the power up me tells me so.
So, thoughts, if you dare, enter my lair, enter to find the able, enter to find your doom. The static shall bring forth justice. The static shall take care of you as it did me. You may not evade the static as you once eluded me. You will not live another day to torture and torment. For the static knows all. The static is my friend. The static is now the protector.
Saturday, July 27, 2002
Thursday, July 25, 2002
The Calling
The mind bends, ceases, and cracks,
Dementia sets in as another day begins.
I was not always like this; I was great,
And you were supportive before it turned bad.
Now I sit with my thoughts on hold,
Apart from the wind that bustles in total euphoria.
Dementia sets in as another day begins.
I was not always like this; I was great,
And you were supportive before it turned bad.
Now I sit with my thoughts on hold,
Apart from the wind that bustles in total euphoria.
Murk
A gasp escaped me as my sword fell the thirty feet to the crevice’s bottom. This was not a good sign. The vile creature, my brother, lunged at me with his own cold blade of steel in a desperate attempt to steal that which I was born with. In a world where a soul was more important than gold, nature and natural selection played little in the lineage of kings, as those who sought power would rob you of your very soul in an instant just so that they would be one step closer to God. My brother, dear Dietrich, had been so overcome by the speculation of being God’s right hand that he had literally lost his mind sometime ago. In tongues, Dietrich spoke to me, yelling at me, screaming this and that, but all was ignored. I did not know of what he spoke, his insanity had advanced further than I had guessed and the look in his eyes revealing that there was no hope for him.
On the coldest day in winter, I would not have guessed that this would happen to my brother. Our father, who’s papal rights to the throne ensured that he was as close to God as one might get, feared for his life as my brother continued to follow the path to utter madness. Of course, it had started out so innocently, with but a casual conversation between two thinkers. I do not recall the exact details that led to our discovery that a soul taken as an addition to your collection, and those with the most would be higher up in the chain of command, but conclude we did. The long-standing beliefs on how God wanted his children to live in harmony were just that, long-standing beliefs. No one remembered why we believed this and no one had ever thought to question it. So when my brother and I had this great epiphany, we were dumbfounded. Nor surprisingly, our generation this far had uncovered many secrets held within our lands, unearthing ancient civilizations erased from times memory, and finding cures to the most horrible of diseases. This finding though, was far more significant than anyone might have imagined. This was the precise reason that we could not reveal it to another soul. The killing sprees that would ensue would be the destruction of the society we had worked so hard to progress.
From that day forward I had pushed the subject out of mind. To dwell on these thoughts would certainly have driven me past the point of no return to a place where I could no longer be considered that person of reason. I did not think to check my brother, to make sure he felt the same, and to ensure that he would not engage in any further philosophizing on the subject because to do so would be suicide. I did not know that he had not planned to forget our discovery any time soon, nor would he cease thinking and developing further hypothesis. His current attempt at murder was not his first. Earlier today, he had informed me, he had killed our Sister and Mother, although our Mother was not high in God’s lineage, she was still a queen and that must mean something, was his only reason. I had no time for mourning at this point. I would consider it if I got through this attack with all limbs and life intact, the irony of this being that my brother himself had but one hand, losing the other after falling off a horse. That lack of completeness must be what has driven his mind into a state of lunacy. Within the few seconds it took me to contemplate all of this, Dietrich was once again on top of me.
I was struggling for my life and knew that his size was bigger and speed was better than mine. Even if he did only have on hand to fight with, his right gripped the sword fiercely. With that thought I thrust my body to the right and fell the thirty feet to where my sword lay. I knew that it was a very risky move, but the bottom of the crevice was lined with silt dirt from ages of weathering and the impact would kill me, break me, or leave me untouched. I hoped for the latter. That does not mean to say that things worked out as I had hoped. The silt was still hard and my ribs smashed down, cracking, pain jolting up through my body into my brain. The side of my face hit second, and again, cracking, and all I could see was the red of blood rushing up under my broken bone and skin into my eye sockets. I struggled to get up but my efforts were ultimately futile.
The blood filling my sight slowly drained away, leaving me to see my surroundings and able to concentrate enough to hear my brother working his way down the path to the crevice we so often played in as children. I laboriously raised my body from the filth so that I would be able to defend myself against the monster that had replaced my kin. His screams of anger did not deter my determination to complete my last talk. To take the life of another would be something not easily done or forgotten, but the brute that faced me now left me little choice. I reached for my sword, my chest screaming at me in pain, and eventually found it with the tips of my bloodied and blistered fingers. Raising my sword, I could see a slight look of amazement in my brother’s eyes. He did not expect me to get up and defend myself once more. Little did he know? I dug the hilt of the sword into the earth, its point facing God as if it were a finger accusing him of some wrongdoing.
I released my body on top of my sword, letting the sharp blade point to my chest instead of God, hoping it would hit its mark with un-quivering accuracy. My kingdom would not want this lunatic as God’s right hand. The soul of the second son would not be his to take; he would not have such satisfaction. My soul belonged to God and God only, not on could say otherwise. My last thought was that my brother’s surreal scream sounded more demonic than human. The light parted and the gates opened. I had arrived.
On the coldest day in winter, I would not have guessed that this would happen to my brother. Our father, who’s papal rights to the throne ensured that he was as close to God as one might get, feared for his life as my brother continued to follow the path to utter madness. Of course, it had started out so innocently, with but a casual conversation between two thinkers. I do not recall the exact details that led to our discovery that a soul taken as an addition to your collection, and those with the most would be higher up in the chain of command, but conclude we did. The long-standing beliefs on how God wanted his children to live in harmony were just that, long-standing beliefs. No one remembered why we believed this and no one had ever thought to question it. So when my brother and I had this great epiphany, we were dumbfounded. Nor surprisingly, our generation this far had uncovered many secrets held within our lands, unearthing ancient civilizations erased from times memory, and finding cures to the most horrible of diseases. This finding though, was far more significant than anyone might have imagined. This was the precise reason that we could not reveal it to another soul. The killing sprees that would ensue would be the destruction of the society we had worked so hard to progress.
From that day forward I had pushed the subject out of mind. To dwell on these thoughts would certainly have driven me past the point of no return to a place where I could no longer be considered that person of reason. I did not think to check my brother, to make sure he felt the same, and to ensure that he would not engage in any further philosophizing on the subject because to do so would be suicide. I did not know that he had not planned to forget our discovery any time soon, nor would he cease thinking and developing further hypothesis. His current attempt at murder was not his first. Earlier today, he had informed me, he had killed our Sister and Mother, although our Mother was not high in God’s lineage, she was still a queen and that must mean something, was his only reason. I had no time for mourning at this point. I would consider it if I got through this attack with all limbs and life intact, the irony of this being that my brother himself had but one hand, losing the other after falling off a horse. That lack of completeness must be what has driven his mind into a state of lunacy. Within the few seconds it took me to contemplate all of this, Dietrich was once again on top of me.
I was struggling for my life and knew that his size was bigger and speed was better than mine. Even if he did only have on hand to fight with, his right gripped the sword fiercely. With that thought I thrust my body to the right and fell the thirty feet to where my sword lay. I knew that it was a very risky move, but the bottom of the crevice was lined with silt dirt from ages of weathering and the impact would kill me, break me, or leave me untouched. I hoped for the latter. That does not mean to say that things worked out as I had hoped. The silt was still hard and my ribs smashed down, cracking, pain jolting up through my body into my brain. The side of my face hit second, and again, cracking, and all I could see was the red of blood rushing up under my broken bone and skin into my eye sockets. I struggled to get up but my efforts were ultimately futile.
The blood filling my sight slowly drained away, leaving me to see my surroundings and able to concentrate enough to hear my brother working his way down the path to the crevice we so often played in as children. I laboriously raised my body from the filth so that I would be able to defend myself against the monster that had replaced my kin. His screams of anger did not deter my determination to complete my last talk. To take the life of another would be something not easily done or forgotten, but the brute that faced me now left me little choice. I reached for my sword, my chest screaming at me in pain, and eventually found it with the tips of my bloodied and blistered fingers. Raising my sword, I could see a slight look of amazement in my brother’s eyes. He did not expect me to get up and defend myself once more. Little did he know? I dug the hilt of the sword into the earth, its point facing God as if it were a finger accusing him of some wrongdoing.
I released my body on top of my sword, letting the sharp blade point to my chest instead of God, hoping it would hit its mark with un-quivering accuracy. My kingdom would not want this lunatic as God’s right hand. The soul of the second son would not be his to take; he would not have such satisfaction. My soul belonged to God and God only, not on could say otherwise. My last thought was that my brother’s surreal scream sounded more demonic than human. The light parted and the gates opened. I had arrived.
Wednesday, July 24, 2002
The Fruits of Summer
A journey like no other. That is what we called it. Of course, it wasn’t a tenth as far as we made it out to be. John picked me up after dinner as planned. He was always ready for an adventure on a hot summer afternoon, as was I. We hopped on our bikes and rode into the wind, the sweat instantly dripping down our faces from the hot August sun. Block after block we rode on, peddling as hard as we could so that the time until the exciting part of our journey was closer upon us. The traffic today made us scratch our heads. In such heat, a person tended to stay home, but today was different and we guessed that everyone else was on an expedition of his or her own. As we approached the side of the mountain from the south side, we could see the path that scurried up the side and would eventually take us to our final destination. John slammed on his brakes throwing a wall of dirt towards the sky, only landing after it had made it over the ditch. I, of course, not wanting to be outdone, picked up speed before applying my own brakes, hoping to top what I thought of as Johnny’s spectacular feat. I won’t say that I failed horribly.
Johnny lagged behind as I started my way up the side of the mountain on the narrow path. After so many years, I would think the path would be well worn and wide, but I guess people stuck to the path and didn’t venture off of it by even an inch. This made for tricky navigation, but the prize at the end was well worth it. The up and down of the path didn’t phase me in the least, the summer of biking since school let out left my lungs full and ready for hard expansion. I took a chance at turning around to see if John was still behind me. He was, and close, but the glance threw me off the track and I started heading downhill. A few sharp maneuvers around some vegetation and rocks and I was again on my way. Johnny had passed me because of my harebrained attempt to check on my friend, and this meant that he would find the treasure first if I couldn’t find a way to distract him and get in front.
I could sense the tension between the two of us, even though the distance between us was increasing by the minute. Johnny was fiercely competitive and was a very poor loser. I, on the other hand, didn’t mind losing as long as I tried my best and finished what I was out to accomplish. This didn’t mean I was going to wuss out and let him win though. I pumped hard on those plastic peddles as we neared our destination, seeing the prize drove me even harder. Johnny checked over his shoulder to see how close I was and nearly lost the trail himself, his only saving grace being that the trail had widened somewhat. This meant that I was on his tail and he was going to have to fight hard to be the first to our reward. That thought pushed me and I started to inch past John as we were less than a minute away. His height and mass pushed him ahead by a fair margin as he doubled his efforts and we hit the final descent. Unfortunately, I was left eating the dust his big knobby tires kicked up.
My efforts, not surprisingly, were not in vain, as the reward was not just Johnny’s, but both his and mine. The journey that had started no less than thirty minutes ago had come to an end with Johnny and I both jumping our bikes off of the five-foot cliff into the lake at the end of the path. Our prize, which we enjoyed almost every day that summer, was as no other we could experience at eight years old. We were elated with such a simple thing and couldn’t imagine anything that could make us happier. Our journey home was always filled with bragging of who would be first to the prize on our next adventure.
Johnny lagged behind as I started my way up the side of the mountain on the narrow path. After so many years, I would think the path would be well worn and wide, but I guess people stuck to the path and didn’t venture off of it by even an inch. This made for tricky navigation, but the prize at the end was well worth it. The up and down of the path didn’t phase me in the least, the summer of biking since school let out left my lungs full and ready for hard expansion. I took a chance at turning around to see if John was still behind me. He was, and close, but the glance threw me off the track and I started heading downhill. A few sharp maneuvers around some vegetation and rocks and I was again on my way. Johnny had passed me because of my harebrained attempt to check on my friend, and this meant that he would find the treasure first if I couldn’t find a way to distract him and get in front.
I could sense the tension between the two of us, even though the distance between us was increasing by the minute. Johnny was fiercely competitive and was a very poor loser. I, on the other hand, didn’t mind losing as long as I tried my best and finished what I was out to accomplish. This didn’t mean I was going to wuss out and let him win though. I pumped hard on those plastic peddles as we neared our destination, seeing the prize drove me even harder. Johnny checked over his shoulder to see how close I was and nearly lost the trail himself, his only saving grace being that the trail had widened somewhat. This meant that I was on his tail and he was going to have to fight hard to be the first to our reward. That thought pushed me and I started to inch past John as we were less than a minute away. His height and mass pushed him ahead by a fair margin as he doubled his efforts and we hit the final descent. Unfortunately, I was left eating the dust his big knobby tires kicked up.
My efforts, not surprisingly, were not in vain, as the reward was not just Johnny’s, but both his and mine. The journey that had started no less than thirty minutes ago had come to an end with Johnny and I both jumping our bikes off of the five-foot cliff into the lake at the end of the path. Our prize, which we enjoyed almost every day that summer, was as no other we could experience at eight years old. We were elated with such a simple thing and couldn’t imagine anything that could make us happier. Our journey home was always filled with bragging of who would be first to the prize on our next adventure.
Fire
The sun shines and I believe it to be the answer to the question that has been drilling itself into my brain for more than any amount of time that I prefer to think about. That question, “Will it be you that can bring it all back for me?” has burned into my mind day after day for as long as I can remember. I could not know it would be you, but indeed it is. I realize now that I have seen you before, in a daydream, or could it possibly have been just a dream, most certainly not a nightmare of any sort. It does not matter; you will turn things full circle and allow me to start to live my life, as I should have for so long. And this brilliant sun that shines behind you as you approach, the light that reflects your inner beauty, it bursts through me, taking with it the uncertainty and loneliness. You will take it all away; you will explain how it will be. The halo of light intensifies as you near. My perfect angel. My saving grace.
And my eyes clear to reveal the truth before me. You have been my world all along. I have sat in a state of dumbfound idiocy waiting for you to free me from my imprisoned soullessness, my empty oneness, my boring repetitiveness that is my life. To sit as a gargoyle in the sunlight for so many years has pulled my spirit to the lowest of lows. And yet here you are, walking towards me, and the glow emanating from you purifies me as only the most blessed water can. I can only hope that I have been saved myself. And then you touch me. The energy I feel in my blood, coursing through my veins, elates me to the highest. The intense orgasm occurring in my mind can only be something that happens once in a man’s life. The light touch of your skin upon my hand, the softness of your white glow, fills me with determination and reverence.
That fleeting moment, that glimpse into my future that has allowed me to see the person that I may be, my partner, my soul mate, has transformed me within that instant. And as the moment passes, you are on your way, away from me, leaving me shivering and shaking where I stand. My love, my darling, where are you going? And I see. You are not mine, nor will you ever be. The hand that eludes me is held by someone else. And I can only hope that this person will venerate the goddess that you are, as I would have. I will not fight to find you again, to hope to steal you away. You are not mine; you belong to another, and this I must live with. There may be another who will glow from the light, another perfect angel, another mother figure who will find me one day. I wait, incomplete, imperfect, until chance has shown its face a second time.
And my eyes clear to reveal the truth before me. You have been my world all along. I have sat in a state of dumbfound idiocy waiting for you to free me from my imprisoned soullessness, my empty oneness, my boring repetitiveness that is my life. To sit as a gargoyle in the sunlight for so many years has pulled my spirit to the lowest of lows. And yet here you are, walking towards me, and the glow emanating from you purifies me as only the most blessed water can. I can only hope that I have been saved myself. And then you touch me. The energy I feel in my blood, coursing through my veins, elates me to the highest. The intense orgasm occurring in my mind can only be something that happens once in a man’s life. The light touch of your skin upon my hand, the softness of your white glow, fills me with determination and reverence.
That fleeting moment, that glimpse into my future that has allowed me to see the person that I may be, my partner, my soul mate, has transformed me within that instant. And as the moment passes, you are on your way, away from me, leaving me shivering and shaking where I stand. My love, my darling, where are you going? And I see. You are not mine, nor will you ever be. The hand that eludes me is held by someone else. And I can only hope that this person will venerate the goddess that you are, as I would have. I will not fight to find you again, to hope to steal you away. You are not mine; you belong to another, and this I must live with. There may be another who will glow from the light, another perfect angel, another mother figure who will find me one day. I wait, incomplete, imperfect, until chance has shown its face a second time.
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