Finger drums

Perhaps the loudest in percussion,
the finger drums
against the armchair.

So loud as to wake a dead man
from his eternal slumber
and get him to dance
in the fantasies
of the patient.

The finger drums
against the armchair
with the twisted frown
and the angry eyebrows.

I'm stuck in a queue.

God Loves Ugly

They said I should be proud of
the red dots on my face.
I should embrace the curves on my hips and my chest,
they're gifts,
not curses.

They said I should love the Bob
and the thick glasses
and the braces
and the pimples
and the big nose
and the way people look at me.

Because
in order to love the plant,
you have to love the seed
and watch it grow.

someone loves those glasses
and those dots
and those curves
and those pimples
and that nose.

Even if God's the only one who ever does.

the crack in the sky

I took the road unknown, if you didn't know.

It lead me to the sky.

The sky fell onto it's side as I walked through the forest, dark and eerie, the clouds and oblivion falling in front of me with a cloud clap. I was walking West, and West disappeared. Now, I walk through the sky. The rain obeys gravity and falls from the clouds to the ground, only an inch from their origin of condensation. I walk around them, and as I pass them, the sky is blue. Gradually, the weather is gone. Only blue and the ground beneath me and myself.

A boom of thunder snaps, and the delicate blue splits in an eternal black tear from the ground up. Two realities appear on either side of the torn sky.

On one side of the tear, I see myself as an old woman, watching children play on a playground in my hometown. On the other, I see my love as an elderly man, sitting on a park bench, feeding birds. He suddenly slaps the remainder of his feed to the ground and looks to the sky, and I notice tears glistening down his cheek. He says my name and begins heavily sobbing. I begin walking to my love, and a tombstone with my name appears where his face once was. I notice that I do not recognize the graveyard. He must be crying because I am dead?

I suddenly hear screaming coming from the other side of the tear, and when I go to that side, I see myself, still as an elderly woman, screaming loudly at what looks to be a photo. She says only two words, "The middle, the middle!" Over and over again, she screams them. Then she finally drops the photo and the glass shatters. She runs away and I no longer see her, but I see the person in the photo. It appears to be a photo of me, where I am, in the midst of the two realities playing before me.

I realize now that I must choose one reality and live it.

A long time went by before I knew it, staring into the two portals. One of them containing my love, sobbing into his hands on a sidewalk covered in pigeon feed, and the other containing a broken photo of myself, in an empty living room, where I can hear myself restrainingly sobbing, as I always have done, in the distance.

Thinking about what my elder self screamed, I approached the two realities.

Then I walked through the black crack in the sky.

the thrill (panic attack)

it begins with a sort of tingling sensation.

felt in the chest, then spreading out, circulating. it's noticed the most in the hands. temperature both rises and drops. breathing picks up, slowly, gradually gaining itself into smaller and shorter breaths. a sudden wave of fear sweeps over, and for a split second... you can remember being born.

an immediate need to sit down, lined with a overwhelming light feeling, like a bird taking flight. a sort of euphoric feeling. it's not peaceful, but it's not particularly scary. eyelids cover the eyes, and pink and yellow are common colors to view. all control is lost, and at some point, fists become clenched and breathing becomes nonexistent.

it feels so close to death, as if he's spinning and twirling around, briefly brushing and sweeping. it's as if love is being made with the end of life, so close to him, you can feel his breath on your neck.

and then His face is visualized, and an urge to cry and kick and scream to get away from The End takes over.

the rapid breathing is sounded loud now, like an alarm. a soft, calming voice is clear, recognized as Bre's supportive and caring tone, and suddenly, a heating sensation radiates throughout and you're safe.

you're alive.

somehow, you're still alive.

thank god... you're still alive.

schism (umbilical cord)

darkness engulfed me
as i awoke in the womb.
the mother is dead.

Not decomposing, no, not nearly so obscene.
she was just... not alive.
her heart wasn't beating.
the kind of dead that
brings to light how
alone you really are.

Sanctioned under a dead woman's skin.

She was the kind of dead
that highlights the
vicarious ways
of the origin of life.
the kind of dead that reminded
me that to some, you are nothing
but an inconvenient tumor.

perhaps the dead woman I'm trapped in
thought of me that way.
after all, I'm so very alive.
and she is so very dead.
this body wasn't big enough for us.

no, she wanted me to live. I can feel it in her bones.
she died for me.
the umbilical cord wrapped around her neck.

Thank you.

somewhere in the middle

here's the setting.

it's a forest. it's also night time, and all animals, abnormally, are quiet. only the sound of moderate rainfall is heard, along with your own breathing. there's no clear path, but the trees aren't webbed together, so you begin walking forwards through the rainy dew. most of the rain is taken by the treetops, but every once in a while you feel a cold drop of water fall in your shoulder or head. as you continue walking forward, you begin to hear circus music. it's loud and distorted, as if it were being played on an overused, breaking record player. it's slower than normal, but somehow, the tempo feels faster than it should be. it sounds like something straight out of a nightmare. so you turn around. the circus music fades away, and you've returned to your beginning state: the very center of this forest. you notice a temperature drop, and realize that the circus you were about to approach was radiating widespread amounts of heat. you curiously walk in the opposite direction of the circus. the forest seems to get darker and darker as you proceed, until finally, you're barely able to see the trees in front of you. the rain appears to stop falling, or at least stop making noise, and the sound of your heartbeat becomes the only heard thing. the silence is eerie and somehow enveloping your mind and all thought process. you stop walking in fear of losing all five senses. you hear a shuffling through the forest, and immediately turn around and blindly run back to your center. the world gets brighter, the rain continues falling, and your senses are restored.
now, you don't know where to go, so you consider going one of the two ways that you haven't explored. except by looking into the distance, you notice one of them leads to a strong brick wall, and the other is completely unknown and has a mild 50-50 chance of being any benefit to you.

in which direction will you go?
the circus?
the darkness?
the wall?
or the unknown?

Back in the Circus

How do I always end up here?

Anger

what a foul emotion.
the hostile hormone flowing throughout the body
brings any man's morals to a weak state
with a weak impact.

this anger, it nearly engulfs me.
controls me.
it's drowning my conscious choice.

but sometimes
anger is so much better
than melancholy.

i don't know if i can't handle this.
i don't know who it is i'm speaking to.
i don't know who's listening,
and how the ear picks up my words.

such a foul emotion,
controlling every sane thought and morphing it into it's own to fuel itself.
changing reality in the eyes of the angry.

but the underlying cause must be important,
otherwise it wouldn't bother pushing through with such haste.

so should I be angry with you, saawariya,
or should I rationalize your obscene, twisted behavior?
should I hate you for your actions,
or should I learn to silence myself in times of disagreement?

i feel such disdain for your persona.
but it occurs to me now
that perhaps it was a chemical reaction
from my happiness.

perhaps my happiness
makes you act this way.

how can we possibly make peace
and coexist
if this is to continue?

change your ways
or we will wipe this place clean.

Back in the Box

i fell through the floor, into the familiar walls
of the square prison
they keep me in
when they don't know what to do with me.

square isolation.

there are exits. an endless amount of them.
i'm swimming in drying concrete.
just dry enough
to keep me from moving
at a reasonable speed.
though it never really dries.

but it's an effort
just to keep my head up.

at least i'm alone.
at least the screaming stopped.

the worst part of being in this box
is i know exactly which door he's behind.
but it's locked.

he's only one doorway away.
i linger by his exit, but i can't enter.
i just listen to the sound of his voice.
soft, melancholic.

oh, if i could just bust through that door.
i would kick it in. i would reclaim what's mine.

but i can't. the door is locked.
padlocked.

we're so close in this box
and you don't even know.

Friends (limbo reprise)

I can't stand being alone anymore.
I'm addicted to dead mens' tragedies.
Hearing about them is a bed time story.
It keeps the monsters away.

My friends never ask anything.
They just listen.
But there's noise in their minds.
Personal drums beating against their ears
shielding them
from any outside contact.

They listen, but they never hear.
They don't know what my voice sounds like,
even though they've listened to me talk
for 10,000 days.

I'm never alone anymore.
But I'm lonely
all the time.

 And it's just the opposite for me.
My friends, they've so many stories.
I read them, in their eyes.
They never say anything,
but I know them better
than I know myself.

I love my friends.
But they're all dead men.
Imaginary men...
They're not men at all.
Their wide eyes.
Noisy minds.
Running on instinct.
Fist and toe.

I'm not one of them,
and I can't stand being alone anymore.
I've got to get out of here.

limbo (eyes wide open)

dead men roam this place.
but they are not men anymore.

animal instinct reigns.
eye dilation consumes the iris, sclera.
they can see inside their heads
in clarity
for the first time.
they walk on fist and toe, like apes.
guess science was right.

it's dark here.
owls and mice are our company,
perhaps to compliment the bleak forest
of the silent dead.

we were born here without mouths
so no one makes a sound.
not even a mouse.

all anyone does
is stare at one another.
the shame of their lives
beams through their glares.
lasers of emotional communication.
most of them signal
desperation.
guilt, anger, and fear
are also common.

each pair of corneas
has a story.
and i've learned them all.
those desperate, fear-driven
men
are ex-carnies.

they all say the same thing
at the end.
"God abandoned me.
So I abandoned God."

these dead men roam
but they are not men.
not anymore.
not right now.

they're waiting for death,
or anything better
than the graveyard shift.

deliverance (ice age)

as the cold sweeps over me,
i raise my arm to the sky.
my hand outstretched
and my head raised
to the dead, grey clouds.
eyes closed.

body temperature drops
and feet are turning an icy blue
bela lugosi
and boris karloff
loiter at death's door
awaiting my arrival.

a circus of freaks
with flashing red lights
and loud, distorted music
and laughter and tears and miserable disdain,
lingering in the air all around,
where the paint is made of latex
and the tears are thick red
and the walls are falling
and ceilings are collapsing
and the children are crying
and no one cares
and up is down
and everyone's laughing
and spinning
and dancing
with broken smiles
and dead black eyes, overdialated
to see in the dark...

where the music plays forever
and the world spins
like a confused, drunk man
on a backwards axis

hot humidity
intercourse in every corner
so loud, constant
but the music dominates

the high immobilizes every muscle
and death begins to set in at last
and all that is heard is the sick laughter
of the sad clowns
and red flashes on black
and everyone's getting closer
while farther away...

and for the great last second,
an angel's face,
rivers down his eyes
calling, "home, come home"
screaming to come back
"please, don't die..."

yes, great creator, deliver me to this hell,
deliver me from this cold, dead world
let them lead me to the circus
of relapse
and distrust
and hate
and neglect
where everything is too humid
and there's no oxygen
or exits
or tears.

allow a dirge for my spirit.

things i wish i could tell you, pt ii

- I was very reluctant.
I admired you from a very, very far distance.
I didn't want to get close.
In retrospect, I realize
I was afraid
and I didn't know why.

- When we met, you were so fascinating.
Something about you
drew my interest.

- Even when I wasn't paying attention,
I was.

- I remember nearly
every single word
you've ever said to me.

- I remember every thought, every idea, you've ever told me.
- I remember the complaints you had about your parents,
- I remember every word of how you felt about me
and what specific word choice
you used.
- I even remember
the words
you didn't say.

- My mind
marked you
as important.
it's important you know that.

Especially since
my conscious mind
did not always appear to
acknowledge you
unless you were immediately put
in front of me.

- the most important thing that you should know, my friend,
is that
my draw to you
is not normal,
it's not something people
casually see, walking down the streets.
no, my affection is unquestionably irrevocable,
and everlasting.

i cannot logically explain the phenomena.
and it's large to say that
i will feel this way forever.
i know that.
if you haven't heard one word i've said, hear this
and maybe you'll understand
my certainty.

the actions of the heart are as sophisticated
and logical in their own way
as the mind's decisions are,
and if anything, they are better holistically.
the ignorant are the most
susceptible to it's
demands
and often,
they tend to transmutate
the heart's wishes
with the mind's.
and that always ends in failure.

The heart in my chest
speaks without the mind.

I love you, my friend.
I do.
And forever I will.

relapse (things i forgot about you)

how beautiful your face was,
my dreams have reminded me.

how your eyes glimmered
when you are happy
and at peace in yourself.

how it felt
to be surrounded by you,
your emotion,
your essence,
your being.

how overwhelmingly warm your soul is.

my dreams have reminded me.

they've notified me.
part of you has returned,
after a long slumber.

but it seems i've forgotten,
and with loving liberty,
my sweetest dreams have reminded me,
your love, like a thick, warm fog, is blinding.

the intoxication
i cannot allow.

i haven't forgotten what it was like
to end up alone,
blind,
deaf, and dumb,
terrified
in the forest
where the fog
is freezing cold
and the ground
is made of brown-colored paper.

to be in this forest,
is to find your own way out.

this i have not forgotten.

i refuse to relapse.
the cycle must break
before it begins.

embryo

the beginning.

subtle, slow movements.
blind, dumb, deaf, lame.
light never acknowledged.

i am this place.

living is mechanical, and home is given.

the light of the world approaches. i am unafraid.

i am unafraid.

relapse (never coming back)

I've decided to stay in this hell-filled circus forever.

Not with you. Not with myself.
Just this red circus.

I like it here. The pain
makes me laugh.
And it doesn't matter how I got here.
Carnies don't care.
They like to see me laugh.
I think it's funny.
I laugh.
I forget.

I want to spend my life
in this spiral.

This time
I think I'll die
before I come back down.

things I wish I could tell you

I hate you when you're not looking.
Sometimes
the laces don't fit
and you get the wrong idea.

I love you.
more than anything.
I have since the minute I told you.
Since you told me.
I always will.
You are my life partner.
Your thought will not
always be a peaceful one,
but don't take it personally.
I love you.

I have 2 hangnails.
One on each hand.
One is making it hard to write.
The other is bleeding.

Memories fade
but you will last forever
in my mind.