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moon
End * Penalty
Repetition * Promises * Quiet
Light * Satisfaction * Self-Damage
* Shadow Noise * Creature
* The Dream * Unreality
* Want More
End
He was going, going but he didn’t know where.
Wherever it was it was pulling him through the field. The invisible strength of
a burning desire reaching out with massive hands grappling with his judgment.
Taking him to an unknown place where things mover differently and beginnings
never ended. There, endings never began. When he reached it, he knew what would
happen. The things that had happened before were again brought to reality. To
ruin and haunt him till the end. But, there never was an end.
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Penalty
Repetition
Where am I? I don’t remember but I know this place. Yes, yes
I’ve seen it before. The stairs look a bit different but this is it. This is
it, isn’t it? I have better be careful or I’ll fall into nothing down there.
The railing feels icy. I wonder why? Look, this landing is bringing it all back
to me now. Well, I don’t remember this door, no I’m positive there wasn’t a
door here. The knob is slimy wet, it won’t open. Now I remember, there’s a
little trick to it. There it’s ope….
Those lights, those hands. No I can’t believe I forgot this
door. Now it’s going to be…
Where am I? I don’t remember….
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Promises
As it starts you wonder what it all means, people,
and the feeling that you want desperately to leave. The song ends and the
casual turns forties. From between the unknown a familiar face swims into view
and asks. Wrap and do so in return. The smell and the softness along with
comforting words make you want to melt away and stay here forever. It fuzzes
out of view. All was only a thought. You begin to cry nonsensically for all
those things that were promised before
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Quiet
Light
The rich, dark leaves make a canopy overhead. The air smells
of mud and the copper odor that precedes a rain. Small droplets of dew run
slowly down the leaves, gather at the tip then fall, splashing onto the moist
earth, the trees are dark and pushed close together. Almost as if in line for
the light that is ahead. The glow is warm with cold around the edges. The light
makes it almost impossible to see the blue flecks in the night all around, the
trees. The little blue flames peer and gawk, just waiting for the right chance.
Small bits of the defecated trees are gathered at the edge of the path is
little clumps. You mush be quiet here, in this part, because the light might
near you, of the flames may flicker your way.
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Satisfaction
To gorge and pillage is their main goal. To kill and reap
the harvest of splendor from the pain. They take the interceding life from
those who are vulnerable. And exist preceedingly with completeness they suck
from all around them. Beyond perception of caring. Wanting only to satisfy an
eternal existential need for themselves. They hurt and kill the smaller beings,
but feel no pain after the deed. Unfeeling satisfaction, hateful happiness.
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Self-Damage
Here I am again, lying in the dark. The cracked and dirty
ceiling floating high above me. The T.V. is still on, blaring some old
news-reporter telling me about something going on in a middle-eastern country.
The room is blue and my skin is ashen gray in this the only light. My head is
still buzzing from last night. I stretch out my legs on the itchy fabric and my
toes slide off of the end of the mattress. I arch my back and it cracks almost
pleasantly. My brain feels like bog mud
and objects are starting to come back into focus. On the scratched up oak table
next to me there is a little pile of red capsules, and a small bottle of clear
liquid. I place four of the pills on the end of my tongue, relishing the feel
of them there. As the clear liquid pushes them down my throat it feels like
boiling water coursing through a dry riverbed. I lay there awhile thinking
scattered, wandering thoughts before there is a brilliant burst of pinks and
oranges on my lids. Everything defines and amplifies before my eyes. I’m so
tranquil that I don’t even notice him come in. He sits in the chair at the end
of the bed and stares at me hungrily with piercing eyes of no color. The arches
of his skin reflect the blue light, defining them. His mouth opens in almost a grin, showing his teeth-which
flash from white to red, and then back to white again. He crouches a little,
preparing to talk what’s left of my life in one swift whim.
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Shadow
Noise
As I walk down the stairs I can see the shadow. It’s over
there working already. It looks up and in the thin light from the basement
window I can tell that it really isn’t only a shadow. I take the rest of the
steps gingerly and quickly because I can still hear it up there. The crisp
white light shines over the body and onto the table. There sits a contraption,
at first sight there is the appearance of many tentacles, but they prove to be
wires. Upstairs I can still hear it thumping
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Creature
It would have sat in the moldy, stagnant cellar, rotting
indefinitely. That is, until I discovered it down there.
The first thing I noticed when I climbed down the creaking
stairs was the smell. The air was perfumed by old potatoes gone to mush, and
powdery. But the other smell is what made my nose wrinkle up in pure disgust.
It came from the walls and the packed dirt floor, the smell was that of
gangrenous flesh with a tinge of metallic old blood.
A thin line of light crept in between the cracks of the cellar
door. This illuminated only a tiny portion of the table in the middle of the
room. The darkness loomed in the small cellar. I crept slowly in the direction
of the opposite wall, where I felt until I came upon the hard steel knob of the
door. The smell here was absolutely pungent and revolting. A cold draft came
under the door, which was freezing to the touch. I pressed my face against it,
listening. Nothing, nothing there. I tried the knob, but it didn’t budge, I
stood back a little. The door burst open. The light was blue, bright, and
blinding. That was the end of it, the creature had won again.
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The Dream
The light of the moon made a shimmering line across the
ocean. Sea spray hit his face and felt welcome and cool. He closed his eyes and
leaned back. The dream seemed distant and hazy, the way a dream gets when
you’ve been up and about for awhile. He tried to remember it, but it seemed as
though an impenetrable gauze curtain had slipped over it, clouding all of the
images so that only their indistinguishably blurred shapes were there. That
filmy dream curtain had almost completely wiped out the voices and the words of
the dream. All except the line which said it was the same as all of the others.
The sentence was spoken in a deep voice that sounded mildly like his fathers’,
but it contained differences. There was an accent, it was sort of dirty, rough,
almost growling. It said “Remember,” there was a small pause, then, “Remember
it again:” it gave him chills. He brushed his sweat sticky hair away from his
eyes. He could not remember all of the dream but the voice…..
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Unreality
There had been others, there had always been others. You
just couldn’t see them, no in the real light. We hide in the shadows of
surrealism. The unreality of reality eludes all but us. Symmetry and aethesic
quality’s filter through the spectrum of life. The others are all gone now,
they are still in the known but remain unseen. Their entities guide the world
to a completeness beyond human capacity.
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Want More
To pretend is to wreck everything. To live in the now. To be
real. To move with the natural flow of matter in it’s superior complexity
beyond all eternity that s what is wished for when people say they want more.
All this is unknown by them. In the real place beyond infinity of life and
calamity of soul.
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