Saturday, April 27, 2013

Her voice ( like the Aurora borealis) whispers gently into view.

"My hands?".
I say, as my voice
gently echos
off In the distance.

"I can not feel them".

She looks,
An watches,
As I parade them before her.

(And a pause, (but just
For a moment))
To see the lights,
The sea,
The winds,
The trees,
   ,.. that seem to brush
Up gently before my face.

"What about now?".
She whispers, (like the
Aurora borealis, as it slowly
Fades into view).
While clasping my hands, that
Are still disappointingly

"Maybe you are dead?".

She tells me.
"Maybe". I say.
"But was i ever truly Alive".

She smiles,
An cracks.

While continuously
Holding my hand,
Ever so

As to not let go.

Monday, April 15, 2013

Love, or how to get through the day without killing yourself.

A friend once said, that the true path to happiness is to not get your hopes up, lower the standards.' You can never be truly disappointed, if you never expect anything in the first place', is what he used to say. Comforting words, although, I was never the one to have an abundance of it anyways, so I understand where he was coming from, in his own weird little way. I did take a look at this though, for a time. But in the end it was never agreeable. The problem is though, that you get so down on yourself, ideas like this seem like they do make sense.  And that, is when you truly fall.

Monday, April 08, 2013

Sleeping in the long grass, w/ a rock upon your back

'We need to talk'
She said somberly,
(Like sleeping
In the
Long grass
With a rock upon your back.)

"Well". I told her." What did
You have in
She looked over,
With eyess
Glossed over,
As if covered by melting waters,
(Or Fallen rain.)

'I don't'. She said. 'I don't
Think this is working'...

We look at
Each other, (in silence)with
hands trembling, shaking
Back an forth like troubled waters.

(Or a small boat, climbing upon waves, awaiting the final moments of being overturned)

"So". I said to her.
As she firmly plants
The knife
Into my chest." May I


'Well' she said.
'Its Just'.
She continues.
Than stops, pauses..
An sighs.....

An eventually fades off into
The night (with the sun above our heads)

Monday, April 01, 2013

"So, Mr. Jones". She says, quite dryly."

"So, Mr. Jones". She says, quite dryly." As you can see, you are only chasing delusions, a figment Mr Jones". As she says this, she taps her fingers together, with a look on her face as if she is speaking to a wall." Its all in your head Mr Jones, you made it up".
"Made it all up". I say, rolling my eyes." Don't you sit there an try to tell me, I made it all up". I tell her, mockingly." I know what I saw, you can't fit me into your little textbook descriptions". Silence, now permeates the room, as she sits there watching me with no real expression on her face." So than Mr Jones, tell me.. what is most likely, that you are suffering from some mild delusions, or there is a alternate of yourself running around, doing things that, well.. you only happen to do in your dreams?". I sigh, rub my temple, and look off through the window into the outside world. We are about 20 stories up, so all I can really see is the tops of other buildings that partially block out any semblance of sky." So what are you saying, that I am just out there chasing my tail".
"I don't know Mr Jones, but that is why you are here, is it not?"
"Yeah, of course". I say." But how long exactly am I supposed to sit here?".
"These things take time, an are never cured overnight. You need to have patience Mr Jones, patience". She tends to speak as if she has some weird superiority complex, as if I am an ant looking up on her boot in utter confusion as to what it might be.
   She tells me that she has been doing this forever( or at least it feels as such) so she has seen and done it all. All it really is though, is ego coupled with boredom, seeing that she apparently has all the answers, or at least thinks that way anyways. I though, have yet to see it." Yeah well, that is easier said than done. As we sit here". I say." someone is out there, fucking up my life".
"Why". She says." Do you insist on going around in circles Mr Jones. We accomplish nothing with this fact. I am here to help, and I can only do so with your co-operation".
"I am sorry". I tell her in frustration." But I am never going to bend over and believe something I just can't believe to be true, I said it before, but.. I know what I saw, and that was no illusion". The room is quiet, and she sits in front of me perked up upon one of those chairs that go around masquerading as a stool. She is quite pretty though, uncharacteristically so. She seems as if the suit she wears is permanently embedded onto her, I just can't see her wearing anything else. But this is part of my problem, I sit here, with the possibility of a dire situation on my hands, and my mind wanders to such adolescent areas of the brain, that i never truly listen to what people have to say, sure I can hear them and all, but we both know those are two completely different things. Its as if the conscious and unconscious part of my mind is in a epic battle for relevancy. But as I always say, that is a whole other story.
   An as moments have past in silence( an quiet contemplation), she starts up once more, and says." So.. Mr Jones, shall we continue?".