Tuesday, November 30, 2010

Blood. Shot.

The silence deafening, still, I can sense the noise. The world moves, in tandem with my pulse. I can feel it. I can feel every thud of blood against the thin walls of my vein. I can feel it, the earth moving beneath my feet. I can see the stars too, in their dance with the clouds, ever so coy. And I can see the street lights. Harsh, yet oh so soothing. I stagger to my feet. Aware of every millisecond that it takes me to reach my equilibrium. Aware of the 'swoosh' inside my head. So minutely aware. Of. Every. Single. Thing.
The rush of the wind against my skin. Aware of the movement of every strand of hair. I feel myself becoming one with the elements. Stable as the earth, as ever-moving and restless as the wind. Every cell intense, like the fire. And as tranquil as the puddle in front of me.
The puddle.
I lean forward. Aware of the shift in my centre of gravity. So aware. So intensely aware. The world comes up to meet me, to cushion. The ground reassures me, its there for me, it will cushion my fall.
And I look at the puddle.
I see my eyes.
Blood. Shot.


The silence is deafening. I can hear my life flash past me. I look up, eyes wide, like a deer blinded by the headlights of an oncoming car. And I see the sneer.
The sneer.
It rips into me. The disfigurement alien, yet so natural on that face. A face I could never get enough of.
I can feel myself falling. Feel the weight of every molecule of air bearing down upon me. Pushing me to the ground. I feed my resistance with thoughts to live.
I. Will. Live.
For a minute, I'm defying gravity. Rising again in eternal hope. But as they say, whats written is written. I fall.
Thud.
I can feel the impact in every cell.
I look up.
Through my blurred vision,
I see.
The tears that cloud those eyes.
The face is hazy around the edges.
But I can see the love.
The mask has been lifted.
Or is it one last act of kindness.
Assuaging the fears of a dying man.
I can feel the gaping hole in my chest.
Tearing at every fibre of my being.
Devouring material me.
Liberating. Fatal.
I look past my chin to the bullet.

Blood. Shot.


Its red. Oh so red.
I reach for the glass.
Its cool. So cool against my palm.
My fingers cradling its soft contours,
as one would a baby.
My baby.
Never questioning.
Never answering.
Always listening.
The bile rises in my throat.
I will it down.
It shall not ruin this.
My climax to the perfect movie.
So beautiful.
So truly beautiful.
I raise the glass to the light.
It shines. It sparkles.
I can see through it.
My world red.
I raise my head.
Throw it back in a split-second,
of abandonment.
Of pure happiness.
And I flick my wrist.
The fire trails my throat.
And for a minute,
I'm one with me.
And then it rises.
Uncontrollable.

Blood.
Shot.

Saturday, November 20, 2010

I'm being all dark and twisty again.

I reach for something,
deep within the confines of my head.
Matter lost in time,
abstract, never really mine.
Treacherous thought cloud my vision,
as tears threaten to spill.
empty spaces draw me in,
escapes from the usual din.

I'm running around in circles,
running endlessly in my head.
Hands spread in hopeless prayer, futile
greedily asking, bypassing the turnstile,
of faith, and the workings of powers above,
pleading for something to heal the noise.
But your prayers are not for me,
alike, false promises and traitors are we.

Dissolved in my own dark, I fold inward,
Searching for indestructible answers,
to questions that never did exist,
to theories that never will subsist.
I lose myself in thoughts of that,
that has never found itself existing.
I look to you, but you turn away,
I call to you, but you do not stay.

Jump from the burning building,
I follow instructions in my head,
Towers of the past, topple and burn,
within me, in pain, they twist and turn.
Charred and burnt, I lie in a heap,
and within pain, the hope is found.
Far from vestiges of the past,
what is to be emerges at last.