Below are the 12 most recent journal entries.
ok, when I can't report here, it will be on www.myspace.com/great_american_roadtrip .
this will be in stolen bits of time near panera's around the country.
I'm about to leak sap all over you
was just out on sarah's parent's porch crying. not quite sure what for. I've pretty much gone through the range of emotions one should expect from uprooting ones life and giving into nomadic hobo impulses. I just haven't cried. I'll give one third to the incapability of her parents to actually express normal emotions and overflow into the empath, another third to being near my period and the last to the simple fact that I'm doing exactly what I've wanted to do since I could remember.
this is impulsive and brash and stupid and exciting and scary and perfect.
I'm not tired, the first night in about a week that I haven't felt tired before 11p. it figures.
in the morning I'm going to wake up. I'm going to breathe in, then out and get out of bed. I'm going to put one foot then the other on the floor and walk to the door and watch as the first day of the rest of my life unfolds. this is it. this is the beginning and the end and the whole mashed up, mixed up middle of two lives.
here we go.
focus and lack thereof
Filtering is terrible when I'm not multi tasking.
alright, fine, I'll spew. I want to write something, I don't know what. I've been running my fingers over the two bottle caps I pocketed from the house party earlier. that's the image that's been running through my head the most this morning.
Went to a house party with will and marie, then to phoenix hill tavern. up until we were about to leave I was doing good. I was filtering, hell, I was even enjoying myself. there is hope for me quite possibly being able to be bold with men. I faltered right as we were leaving. the white noise creeped up and flooded my senses. like standing in very big tank being filled slowly with luke warm water. at first a caress around the ankles. silky water lapping gently at your calves. you don't really have a moment of trepidation till it begins to crest your stomach. the tide keeps rising, inexorably, taunting and jeering, intolerable. Till you can't breathe through all the noise. That's what it was like leaving the tavern tonight. I couldn't concentrate or focus. Falling back into myself was so hard. And there wasn't even provocation for my inability to shield or ground from it.
The princess must return to the castle at 3a or an unspoken threat will descend upon her head to destroy any hopes and dreams. I wish that I had an auto communicate button that I could push.
sitting outside of sarah's parent's house enjoying a beautiful day, contemplating how and when we're actually going to leave for parts unknown. This is one of those mythically beautiful days. The sun is nice and warm but there is a stiff constant breeze to alleviate most roasting.
There is one brilliant purple flower with a pale yellow center on a vine in their garden. It's open to the full, soaking up the sun. One dog is insistent and the other is content.
I'm wondering what today will bring with it. I'm in one of those stasis moments. Suspended between stagnant and already being. I want to be on the road but I'm terrified because there is about 2k between the two of us. Which together is more than either of us has had in about 3 years.
I'm wondering how this will shape me. I know that I wont be the same person at the end. And for the most part the end seems like it's going to be an amazing place. I'm nervous but ti's tempered by the fact that I want to be already gone from here. This thought occurs to me a lot: what if I don't want to be done. At the core of my being there is a home dedicated to my love of travel. It's going new places, seeing what they have to offer, and lets be honest with ourselves here, it's the people too. What is your story? What is the thing that makes you glow when you speak of it? The thing that makes your heart pound in excitement. Fundamentally I know we all have at least a little of he same stuff beating in us, I want to see how your stuff differs from mine, from sarah's from the person next to you.
My right foot is asleep, it's interesting because I'm trying to isolate the feeling of it, not have it actually other me. For the past few years I've been trying to get into the yolk of things. The very center of existing in the moment. And actually, for the most part, I feel as though I have succeeded. Prior to this time in my life I'd tried the distance thing, the observe and report; which also to my credit I believe worked as well. The new thing that I'm trying now is the in the moment feel and isolating that like a clam does a pearl. Objective analysis and dissection of the moment. It's not as alien as it sounds. It's meant for unbiased opinion on my part.
I think that I'm done for the moment. I'm going to go inside and try to wake sarah again. such things have to be persistent and constant otherwise it's no use to try.
to no end
it frustrates me. I can't convey what I mean and the meaning of what I convey is lost in interpretation.
I had a running theme to my dreams last night. I was always moving - walking, wrestling, running, dancing - when I would get this overwhelming skin hunger. almost crippling. to be honest it felt like being a relatively new vampire (5 years or so) that happened to catch scent of blood floating on the air. in the dreams I would stop the motion completely and my root chakra would pulse, my fingers would tingle and I was compelled to find what had initiated it. Sometimes it was a man, leaning back against something, elbows up and legs loosely crossed, lets be honest with ourselves here, it was William for the most part. Other times it was a woman, like brianna from gabaldon's books. 6 foot, ass length red hair (cinnamon, copper, auburn, scarlet), slanted, slate blue eyes. When I'd finally notice them, they would get up and walk away. always turning their back to be as they went out of sight. I don't remember wanting them in the "oh, beautiful sexy person", I remember it being a need to feel that energy on my hands, rubbed over my skin, tasted in my mouth. so for the most part I was left chasing these two types of people in the dreams, unfulfilled, frustrated and waking up wishing I had someone to fuck.
I'm going to go read a bit before we decide to do anything today.
Sable sends her greetings as well.
not really. recently (the past week or so) I've been trying to come to terms with my skin hunger. the need to have my skin against others. for the most part it's sexual, but there are times when it just becomes about the contact. and I miss sleeping with someone.
went to cherokee park last night with william and sarah. that was awesome and disturbing. I might mention more on that later when I feel like talking about it.
Steve, I'm getting your comments. you can contact me at firstname.lastname@example.org or sarah's phone.
I'm tired and I'm ready to be done with louisville. I want to be in a new place, somewhere that I don't know anyone. then maybe swing around to the people I know.
I'm confused and my mind is a mess right now. I'll try writing later when I'm more coherent.
is pretty much how I left it.
It's mother's day, something which I'll never understand. thank them on your birthday and be done with it. fuck this seperate holiday shit. I"m looking forward to visiting with will and stephen tomorrow. Sarah and I didn't sleep on the drive here from BG. we pretty much drove through a wall of water. what was a 2 hour drive turned into a 5 hour escapade with life threatening hydro-planing ON THE HIGHWAY and panic attacks. but alas! we survive.
Oh yeah, never shaving my cooch again. I always forget how fucking aweful regrowth is. I don't think I would mind waxing, but fuck alot of that. I put my body through enough pain.
I'm actually looking forward to the whole spartan life style. My body is telling me it's sick of pizza and soda and lack of sleep. yay for fruit and easily shopliftable food. oh and water.
I'm looking forward to sleep tonight but I must first spend time with mother, grandmother, sister and kids.
I like how the two people who responded to see this journal were already on the friend's list. uncomplicated and yet....saddening.
over and out, no spectacular prose today.
it is a new day. Leaving today, saying goodbye to this town and all that doesn't have to offer. I wonder if I'll actually be back for any of my shit that I'm leaving here. Something tells me no.
The self proclaimed gigilo Carlos Amor and I enjoyed the hotel room for a nice 9 hours of spectacular sex. It was vigorous and wonderful. I bled some, cause I didn't realize what a 9in+ cock would do to my insides. He reassured me that it was quite alright, and that he'd had that happen with his ex's before. didn't hurt at the time, but I'm left with a deep ache that turns sharp if I move wrong. Mind you, not complaining one bit.
On a selfconcious note, the next time I see him, I want to be mostly rid of the paunch on my belly so I can strut with confidence and know that his eyes will be on me. Fortunately men are equipped with sexual lie detectors, so I worked what I had for him.
Sarah and I have this whole no attatchment thing for when we're actually on the road. In theory this is brilliant. In practice this, for the both of us, will be exceedingly difficult. Lying there in bed with this amazing man and I knew that while neither of us wanted to date, if we'd lived in the same town ,there's no way it would remain just fuck buddies. he listens too well, and is very caring. A great friend to talk with, amazing body to fuck, and an all around good adult and human being. 28, 29 in december and there are no wedding bells for his forseeable future.
Remember to have sarah or me do a tarot reading on him. I'd like to know his signifyer.
I smell like him. I like it when men leave their scent on me. I almost don't want to shower, but know I have to.
going now, you'll hear from me on the road:
It was real and it was great,
and it was really great.
Call me anytime, okay? Goodbye.
It's just goodbye, you know?
It's not "goodbye." ...It's just goodbye.
it took a moment and I could not be found
again and again and again I see your face in everything.
it moves around the room, from face to face, behind the masks. It is a shiver, pulsing to life, a thread of a common lust. Only to be shared between members of the common congregation.
It is a narrowed focus.
Is there something that you want?
Anonymity, perfectly ambiguous, and unlike anything before.
You wet your lips in anticipation.
The taste of that ripe bud is already on your tongue.
You are alive.
Who am I?
I am me. I am the one that wants to be one with you.
I perceive you, but I do not know if you are separate from me. If we are one thing then how do I perceive you as something other than me? We are eka cakra, one thing, one wheel.
Who is “I”?
“I” is “we”. “We” is the concept of eka cakra.
When I remove the scandas that I have placed on you, what will be left?
I will be left.
When I remove the scandas that I have placed on me, what will be left?
Eka cakra is not capable of knowing what is out there, even though it is the only out there that exists. One can only possibly hope to know what your perception perceives. Nothing more.
Who am I?
are you alive? [11 Jul 2004|05:26pm]
she told me once that I wasn't worth it. I was a mistake, though it doesn't bother me any more. I've been wandering for years, heard more insults than I care to remember. But there are those seasons when I was pulled in, made to live, for real. Forced to be apart of that ever moving ever changing place called world.
My hand was starting to cramp.
"The gun's loaded you know."
Only the smallest reaction. Well damn.
I dipped my hand into the bag of ocean lined with earth and searched around until I felt the hard rusted steel. I pulled the ship up and up and up and out of the bag.
"This is what you have become." I said calmly, holding the old rusted ship in front of his face.
"You are an empty rusted hull, full of nothing but parasites and cold cold water. Your days have long passed yet you will remain. You will continue once you have been covered from top to bottom and start to crumble under the pressure." I slowly and very gently placed the ship back into the bag full of ocean lined with earth until the ship settled delicately at the bottom.
He looked at me with such bule eyes that I was able to recall a sky I'd seen once, when I was sitting on the moon.
"With my death will follow the end."
"No worries, my bullets can't kill you."
The trigger is pulled, firing the round. Through his head and out the other side. No blood though, there was never any blood.
Looking down, I shook my head.
"no matter how many times I pull this trigger, you will never die. No matter how much violence I pay you, nor pain I cause you, you will never die. You will live through it all, and watch as I corrupt you and violate you and see you to destruction and desolation. You will never die."
I lowered my gun and walked away.
[11 Jul 2004|06:35pm]
hodie mihi cras tibi, sic transit gloria mundi
Death becomes you. [12 Jul 2004|07:38am]
"At my hands you have witnessed the beginning of a new era. I have paved the way for the brilliance of technology to sweep away all the old and misused things. Under us you shall shine and glitter and sparkle. You will feel powerful once more."
His eyes shifted from one beautiful face to another. Those blue blue eyes were covered once then twice by his eye lids.
"I know that I will not die. I may not have the power to change the venues and pursuits of my skin, but I cannot die. You may --"
"Oh, do shut up." ventured a cultured voice. "We know you wont die, that is what has enabled up to come into being. You have been so long. Passivity never became you, darling." She patted his cheek and smiled coldly. Her gun metal grey eyes flashed for a moment, as if catching a stray relection from a puddle of a car's head lights.
He heard a faint whir in behind him and turned to see a man of medium height dressed in a coat of smaug grey with his hands tucked into his pockets. His hair was an unnoticable brown and his features were as unremarkable. a voice came from his pale lips.
"You never have tasted the glory of godhood. You were always one to be used and used and used. You have been here longer than all of us, and what have you got for it but some fuck heads who got it in their head to take over and spread disease to places they can't even imagine? I remember when we were just a dream in some back lander's eye." He passed by close enough for the other man to catch scent of the new car smell of him.
The beautiful creatures in front of him seemed like plastic, like toys from a child's nightmare. Oh, but with one vicious sweep of his hand, this could all end. While he could not die, they surely would. But a promise he'd made and a promise he'd keep. Passivity in the face of pride disgusts even the strongest of us.
Something cold was pressed into the back of his skull. He felt someone lean towards him and brush his ear with soft lips.
"You will not die by my bullets. You will never die. You will be forced to exist through the end and the beginning. You will watch and you will see and you will do nothing." The cold metal shifted slightly upward and he felt the jerk of the barrel, the heat of it searing his flesh. He felt the foreign metal object insinuate itself against his inner most brain matter. He heard her speak above him, not for the first time, nor the last, but always bitter:
"And thus, passes away the glory of the world."
Habit [12 Jul 2004|12:25pm]
A faint whir sounded beside me before the scent of new car flooded my nose.
A soft empty voice spoke at my shoulder.
"I knew you would come."
"Don't I always?"
"The others aren't happy with you. But, then, you don't really care about that. You are older than all of us, and almost as old as him."
I nodded. This conversation was only done out of habit nowadays. And still none of them knew the truth. I don't think any of them will ever know how it all truely began. That is always the way with the new ones. They spin their own tales and versions of the truth until they fade away, still believe what they believe. The biggestest mistake she'd ever made was to give them the power of free will.
I reached out and cupped Vanity's right breast. I drew in close to her, almost touching, and bent my head down to brush my lips over hers. When I pulled back her breath had stopped and tears were flowing from her eyes.
"Vanity," I whispered into her face. "have a care that you do not pass into the faded world. You are old, but I am older still." I gently patted her cheek and walked away.
Behind me I heard gasps and some small chuckles, but I mostly felt an awe bordering on fear, it seeped from their skin, like sap from a tree. It was my reward, albeit selfish.
"Areo, see that Terra makes it home."
The man in the smaug grey suit with the unremarkable features only nodded and watched her walk away, gun forgotten in her hand.
as one walks [12 Jul 2004|02:38pm]
My feet set the path and I followed them. I hardly ever questioned the motives of this body. We walked ove the bridge, past Jacob's Sound and deeper into the City. The gun kept one of my hands busy, but the other constantly caressed the bag full of ocean lined with earth. My mind began to wander with out the anchor of concious thought.
My bullets would never hurt Terra, just as his arrows could never hurt me. We were sister and brother, husband and wife, empty and full, dynamic and static, mother and son, father and daughter.
Euphora would be waiting at Willow's diner. They would hopefully have in hand the lost scripture. But I've never laid my plans thinking everything will turn out A-OK. Adrianne will want to take them to the Nexus, but this time I will join him. Destiny deserved to meet her daughter.
My hand opened a gate and I looked up and across the open expanse of water. With a contented sigh, I tucked the gun in the waist band of the jeans and walked to where the sand met the waves. I stepped onto the next out going wave. Immeadiately the skin that had brought me through the waking world melted away, I was soaring through the water.
Do you know what it is to be home; the very essence of comfort, warmth, and soft beauty...home?
I rushed by a school of dolphins and pushed them upward, jumping with them through the air. I cradled the full, massive body of a manatee as she slept with her young, my arms touched a hundred thousand beaches, my fingers seduced the algae of the deepest land locked creek beds. I hugged the lush curves of the land and embraced each sentient life.
I hesitate. My whole has a crack.
All at one I am wrenched from the sea and pulled back into the skin of the body I keep for walking the waking world.
The body crested and pulsed with the strength of the orgasam. Wordless sounds poured from my lips. I arched my back and lifted us off of the ground. I slowly sank back into thought. My hands clutched at the high grass that surrounded us.
All Eyes. [12 Jul 2004|09:01pm]
Terra's steps were slow. A promise he'd made, but damn them for it any way.
Willow's Diner came into view some sixty yards ahead. Food would be a nice distraction.
With that decision made, he quickened his pace. He placed a hand on the door and watched as it pushed open. The hinges made soft squealing noises accompanied by the harsh jingle of sleigh bells attached to the back of the door. One step, then the next; all the way to a corner booth under a window.
Swift and efficient, a waitress saunters over to his booth under the window. (not that she purposely sauntered, it was merely built up over the years to disguise from herself the emptiness of her bed, the children in the foster home until she could make enough money to convinced the law to let her have them back. The saunter is built in from years of being beaten into a mold that offered no comfort but only a cold knowledge that eventually her looks will fade, her hair with go gray, the shining eyes with lose their luster, her vagina will get loose, her breasts will sag to her hips, the skin hang from her bones...but for now the mask is all she needs to allow her that arrogant saunter.)
"Coffee?" she questions with a bright empty smile.
Terrra shifts the cup under the poised coffee pot. (the wrinkles on her hand, the sagging skin at her wrist, the rings that are so loose now they spin.)
"Will you be havin breakfas wit us today, den?" Same line rehearsed and spoken two hundred thousand billion times.
"Yes," he looks to her name tag. "Karen, I do believe I will. Soemthing that'll stick to my ribs and carry me though till lunch."
The smile gained a bit of reality then.
"Comein right up, afore you can say pancakes and waffles."
Karen, disguise, coffee pot and all sauntered into the kitchen.
Terra picked up the cup and sipped cautiously. A hand slipped beneath the table to rub his thigh absently. His hand traveled up the inside of his thigh to cup his balls. Men had been given such a gift. Oblivious to the old woman at the bar, the two young girls seated four booths away and a couple of old gentry's playing chess at the other end of the diner, he gently, ever so softly drew the tip of his fingers up the hard shaft of his penis. A jolt of desire went through him, and for one instant he thought of the concept of the reality of Desire as a sentient being recently thought up in the head of a man named Neil.
The coffee cup came to rest on the table so that he could have better concentration and a free hand. Then everything faded away. The diner was gone, the arrogant waitress named Karen was gone. And for one blinding moment of he was inside of her again, they were one. His seed was the spark of fire to her life. Her green eyes filled his world, for just one beautiful long moment.
Terra came to slowly. Both hands were pressed flat to the table on either side of the loaded dish of breakfast foods.
She'd brought him to release, Destiny knows how many miles away. The hot spark of life soaked into the front of his jeans and seeped between his thighs. He couldn't bring himself to stand. (Not of embarrassment, for the few humans it would be only a weeks thought, at most about the wet front of this man's jeans down at Willow's Diner.) No he just couldn't bring himself to break the ecstasy of the moment. There was something wholly singular being warm and wet (soaked though) from just a single thought of her.
Terra ate through the breakfast with gusto, not really tasting the food. He laid money and a hefty tip on the table for Karen of the disguises and coffee pot, and wielder of the sauntering hips.
He stood and walked out of the diner, still warm and wet.
Euphora leaned against the counter and laughed very quietly. Terra may have been among the oldest, but he seemed to be ever naive and ever impressionable.
She stood and walked over to the ladies room, (hobbled as an old lady, really). A quick glance in the mirror told the story true. Not a minute later, a tall male dressed in cotton and tweed discreetly slipped from behind the door marked "WOMEN".
ah, but grace... [12 Jul 2004|05:21pm]
His laugh tumbled through me; took my body to climax once again. His laugh died in his throat as quickly as it had come to life. I opened him up, the way you open your eyes, involuntary and unquestionable. A gasp escaped from both of our lips as he pushed harder, trying to find something, anything.
And as he spilled his seed for the second time within me I drew his blood in long furrows down his back.
"What brings you to me, Wild Grass?"
"What always brings me to you, ah ana; other than that of your sweet embrace?"
"You are an evasive creature. Where did you find this body? I had left it near the beach in a cave."
I drew my knees up, as I spoke, to straddle his hips. He settled himself comfortably in me, and supported himself on his elbows above me. He rested his chin in his hand and tilted his head to the side. Hair the color of ripe wheat and stray ray of golden sun with shadows of deep summer green floated over us.
"I found this body neglegently left in a cave near the shore. You know me, ah ana, I cannot help myself sometimes." Agrosto blinked his innocent moss green eyes. "And besides, you left it all alone, someone needed to keep it warm."
I could not help the smile that curved my lips.
"You know of the Jumper then?"
I felt him tense and wraped my legs around him, locking them at the ankles.
"What dreams has he been haunting of yours?"
Two beautiful tears, seemingly composed of spun diamonds, slowly leaked from his closed eyes.
"I dream that my fields are dead, and in their place are great grey monoliths. Where they cast their shadow, I die."
So seldom was one to see sorrow on this wild creature's face that I was taken by utter surprise. the hand of the body I inhabited touched his face. I leaned up and dranks the tears for the prescious things they were.
His eyes opened and looked upon me with all the presence of Terra.
"Will I come home again, do you think?"
"We shall see, my Wild Grass, we shall see."
Time in passing. [13 Jul 2004|07:21am]
A thousand little things each day. Jostled in the crowd on the corner of 47th and Liberty just trying to make your way across the street. Buying the daily bagle at Barnaby's Pastries with the lines that stretch out of the double doors around 8 am. A quick jaunt to Cirus Tower to be acosted, just out side the doors with the low-life drunkards and scum of the city begging (please miss a coin for the poor? sir a kind coin from you?) their hearts out for another coin to feed the addiction. Two gray doves managing to shit on the same bench not a second apart just as an old lady turns her back to sit down. Men with expensive briefe cases filled with surprises from the kids and heads filled with last night's passion spilled inside of some prositutes barren womb. A woman drinks one too many and gets in her car too zoom home. A wreck that leaves you unharmed but your kids dying right there under your eyes. A child that dies, bled dry, in the hospital because you were just too busy to give blood that day. Too busy...too busy...too busy.
A hand touches your arm, but you barely notice. His other hand cups your face, but you don't see. As his lips touch your cheek everything slows. Was that a man, a woman, the wind? A hand rises to your cheek and your head tilts to the side. And somewhere, standing in the back of the crowd, waiting to cross the intersection of 47th and Liberty you watch the little girl, all dressed up for school, tilt her head to the side, and you mimic her. Then she is swept under the screeching tires of a red 1987 nissan and people are screaming, but you don't notice. Today you walk back the way you had come, unlock your door, walk up the stairs to the small bedroom, undress, lie down and fall alseep in your bed. While you sleep you dream that you remember a man or woman, dressed in a grey that matched the concrete he walked (glided) on. He (she) walks to you and brushes the bangs back from your forehead. You smile brilliantly. She (he) kisses you so softly that you don't know if it was the wind or his lips. And then you are falling, falling so fast, but your not scared, your in his, her (their) arms.
A woman lies her head on the side of the bed and cries as her aunt's heart moniter flat lined. She didn't run to get the nurses, even turned down the sound. She watched her aunt walk back in one day, not twenty minutes from when she had left, walked right by her went and laid down and never woke up.
Funeral rights were held. Empty casket, because her aunt wanted to be burned. She noticed a man (maybe a woman) standing towrds the back watching her. She walked over to him and looked directly into his (their) eyes (which were a the color of a cloud shadowed by rain reflected in the window of a skyscraper).
"Why don't you cry?"
She (he) looked down on the lovely woman and smiled.
"Because tears are for the living and the mortal. Would you like company?"
They offered a hand, palm up.
"No, but thank you. I would like to live a little longer, even if it is in solitude."
He (they) smiled and with a nod left through the doorless entry.
She tries to remember sometimes, if there was anyone there at all. Sometimes, it seems only like the wind.
[13 Jul 2004|10:24am]
Et erit tamquam lignum quod plantatum est secus decursus aquarum quod fructum suum dabit in tempore suo et folium eius non defluet et omnia quaecumque faciet prosperabuntur. Non sic impii non sic sed tamquam pulvis quem proicit ventus a facie terrae.
And he shall be like a tree which is planted near the running waters, which shall bring forth its fruit, in due season. And his leaf shall not fall off: and all whatsoever he shall do shall prosper. Not so the wicked, not so: but like the dust, which the wind driveth from the face of the earth.
Through me you shall not know death. [15 Jul 2004|07:36am]
A laugh echoes through the empty hall filled with cracked, dying, broken, forgotten things.
"What am I but something who has lost faith in the beauty of the world."
She, (or was it a he? yes, definitely a he, upon closer inspection); he lounged in a chair next to a table in a little nook that opened out to give a view of the magnificent and ruined landscape. A hand lightly rested on the table that only had three legs. He looks directly into you, through you and at nothing at all.
"None of you have even understood what it was to love. But then, her biggest mistake was the gift of free will. To be ignorant just because you can."
With a disgusted sigh he rose, the table tottered for a moment as if unsure whether to fall or not. A beautiful smile crossed his lips, one that had eaten the souls of millions, one that had been in place as heaven had fallen and hell been destroyed. He reached out and shoved the table to the side. It fell and hit the ground without a sound; it caused no draft. But he did not notice.
Outside, near the front of the monstrosity of a palace, was a water fountain and a man. He threw his arms out and his head back.
"You would have me, but you would never let me have! My place is alone because I only take away, and that was your gift, your beautiful, immortal, thriving gift. You would let me fuck you, but there would never be any child." He lowered his hands and stared at them. "You would let me ride you as your waves ride Terra, but you would never bear the fruits of my labor?"
His hand trailed through the water as he walked around the large fountain.
"Do you feel this? Do you feel my touch?" he scooped up water with both of this hand and drank. "Does something so close to death scare you?" only a whisper though.
He finished off the water in his hands the ran those long fingered hands through his hair.
To die, he mused to himself.
"They call me famine, disease, filth...passion. I mean what power would hell have if those imprisoned there had not dreamed of heaven?"
For a moment pain danced sharp, glittering and white inside of him. One word painted his vision as his knees connected with the ground: FAITH.
Behind him she was able to catch him as he fell. She cradled his body and rocked him ever so gently.
A child though she was, her strength matched his.
"Faith," was his whisper before he fell asleep.
Faith closed her eyes and when she opened them again they were in his bedroom on the bed. She arranged him the best she could and curled against him from behind.
"And you will know hate,"
Anger is easy; it is an efficient, cheap fuel. Not very clean, but abundant.
"And you will know pain,"
Screams and moans twine together. We are at truth.
"And you will know death,"
Do you know me? Is the eternity of my breath the fire of your blood?
"And you will know fear,"
A powerful weapon one must wield with respect.
"And you will know what it is to fall from the right hand of god, and you will love me for it."
Grace and love; the wine of every generation.
Faith [15 Jul 2004|08:21pm]
Small hands cupped a flower. Light pooled in in them and glowed like a small gentle sun. The light shows us the face of a childs with eyes of the ageless.
She takes a breath, and you breath with her. It fills you up with something...something comforting, something warm. Her face is lit by the glow in her hands, her eyes rise until they meet yours.
"Do you know what will happen in twenty two years, three months, nine days, seventeen hours, twelve minutes and 3 seconds from now? You will be standing in your office on the third floor, near a window to get better light. The studio will be buzzing with activity and the photographer will just be finishing a shoot with one of the models. Outside on the sidewalk a white man will be walking his huskie-lab mix. He will kneel down beside his animal and whisper into his ear while taking the collar off 'you are free'. When he stands the dog watches him and remains at his side. 'No time left' he thinks and pulls an automatic rifle from under his coat. This task doesn't need aim, only a willing hand. He fires upward into the windows of the buildings, thinking through it all 'you are free'. Then he turns the gun on himself. He is dead on the sidewalk. His dog whimpers and licks at the wounds. There is much screaming. You are lying on the floor under another woman. She is covered in blood. your mind does not process this. You look at the window, you look down at your hands holding up your weight, but you can't feel the broken glass under your palms. You fall backward, as if a gentle hand had pushed you. And you realize with some odd crystal clear thought that the blood on the other woman is yours. You will die."
The glow had become steadier and brighter as she talked. All at once the flower was eaten by flame. You want to cry. When she pulls her hands back, they still glow softly. The stalk is just a charred bit of brown, standing tall like a solider.
"You have two choices."
She turned one hand over and your heart skips a beat. Caressed by the light is a delicate growth, fragile and brilliant. She lifts her other hand slowly and turns it over. That hand is empty, no glow, no beauty, but still living.
You wake in your bed, shivering. It is still dark outside, but the moon has gone down. You feel chilled and feverish at the same time. One word echos about in the emptiness of your mind, something that you can't quite grasp, but the more you try to catch it and hear it the calmer you become, the more peace you have. You lay back and rest your head gently on the pillow and curl on your side with eyes closed hugging a teddy bear because your loved one is not there to share the bed tonight. Before Dream claims you again, warmth tucks around your heart like a blanket.
In the morning, you think you remember...remember what? There were dreams...but...
You feel lighter this morning, you feel like something new...like a flower that has just opened for the morning sun.
lost [19 Jul 2004|08:04pm]
I don't know...am I lost?
I stand here and I stare at the untrod path and I turn to see where I've come from and not a blade of grass is bent.
My eyes meet your and my hands touch your shoulders.
"Am I lost?"
But you only shake your head. Of course you don't know. How can you know? I created you from my mind didn't I. If I did, then you should know the way back. I shake you.
"You know the way back! Why wont you tell me!?"
But my hands slip through your shoulders as you fade into the green of the woods.
I feel at my side for a gun. (what gun?) Didn't I have a gun?
I am caught, it carries me. He pulls me through the earth. My body is gone.
"You will be mine."
I fight, and fight, I struggle but I cannot push him off. Why can't I push him off?
"Get off of me!"
But he doesn't. I don't want him to, but I fight any way. I fight because I was made to fight. I do not obey because it is expected of me. I will not comply because I am not weak willed.
But it is as usless as trying to fight the pull of the moon. And he sinks inside of me, through me.
"You are mine."
And I am his.
Where am I? ...am I lost?
Lust and Pride [24 Jul 2004|02:04pm]
"Do you ever feel so uncontrollably aroused for someone it is to the point of pain?"
Her eyes lower.
"Yes, I do."
"Do you ever do anything about it? I mean I know you're attached and all that, but what if he's not there when you need to be satiated?"
Her fingers ball into fists and she looks at him.
"Then I suffer until I can see him again. My will is not so weak."
He reached a hand out to cup her cheek and she jerked away.
"I wont do anything unless you ask me to, but a warning: I wont stop or hold back if you do."
She barred her teeth in a sneer.
"My body, my mouth."
"An offer? Tempting."
He stepped in close, almost touching and looked down on this small, frightened, little girl. His voice was deeper than before, textured with a soft growl.
"You do not own anything. You have delusions. You have wisps of dreams that you hold to. You are weak. You do not own yourself because I own you. You will not have pleasure unless I want you to, you will not have pain unless I give it to you, and you will not have release until I bring it gasping and in a shrill cry from your lips." he cupped her cheek then shoved her face to the side. "If I want you at all."
She laughed. It was overly confident but smooth and almost convincing.
"You do not own me. You do not dictate me, you --"
He grabbed her upper arms and shook her.
"I own that taste on your tongue and that wasted smile on those pretty lips. I own that mouth and the teeth behind it." his grip tightened until he saw her almost cry out but her pride was too much, so her teeth sank into her lip and drew blood. "That pride is mine to call. And that blood," he licked her lip and shivered. "I make it race through you, I bring it to a boil and you can do nothing for it."
"I am my own."
"You are full of weak illusions."
He let her go so quick that she stumbled and before she could draw a breath he was behind her. He brought her arm up in a lock behind her and bent her over, his free hand wrapped around her waist and yanked her hard against him. Leaning over her spoke softly into her ear.
"I could take you, just like this. I could force you to take me inside of you and I could fuck you until you were bruised. I'd drink up your whimpers when I broke you. I'd swallow every little illusion you have that makes you think you own some thread of control."
He pulled her arm up sharply and she cried out. Oh, but it was honey to his ears. He thrust his hips hard against her ass. Leaning over, he bit her shoulder hard.
"You are mine. You are weak. I do not worry for your safety, I do not worry for your pain. You can die and I can wash away your life; watch it spiral down the drain like dirty water."
He could feel her tense just before she began to struggle and he held tight.
"Little vixen. You are nothing except what I make you to be."
She thrashed and he just lifted her off her feet.
"Go on cry out."
He let her struggle, listened to her ragged breath. He laughed and threw her to the ground. She was quick and scooted away, but he followed, stalking her.
"If I wanted to, I could force you to take me. I could force your body flat to the ground and I could violate you and you couldn't do a damn thing about it. Because you are weak and I am strong. I will bleed you."
He got down on all fours and crawled towards her, snagging her ankle before she could get too far away. He pulled her closer with a sharp tug, then crawled over her, pushing her knees flat when she brought them up and forced her arms above her when she thought to scratch. He lay full length on her and spoke into her face from inches away.
"You see, little vixen? Do you see now?" he pressed his hips into hers. "I can force you to do what I want. I can make you dance like a live wire with just my touch. I own you."
She still struggled beneath him, but stilled when her eyes opened to glared into his.
"My own, my body, my forest. I own you. I push you into lust. When you spill your seed in me I will own part of you. I will have brought you with my body, and when you are in release I will eat you up. I will swallow you down whole."
He laughed in her face. With a quick movement, his mouth was on her neck. His teeth bit into her flesh and amusement filled him as she arched her back. He bit harder, until she cried out.
"That’s it. That’s it, little vixen. That is the sound of illusions breaking."
Her legs wrapped about him, locking at the ankles, pinning him inside of her, unable to move. She laughed viciously.
"You are mine, always have been. You are male and you are born of me. I own you."
He got to his knees and lifted her from the floor, managing to stand. He lifted her up and cradled her against him.
"You are weak, my pawn. You are mine to break. No one will stop at your cries, no one will end when you are too hurt to move, no one will save you when your pride is in bloody ribbons on the floor."
He walked them over to a wall. With her back against it he thrust into her hard and slow, punctuating each of his words.
"You have no freedom. You have no beauty. You have what I give you, you are what I make of you."
Her nails dig in as she begins to fly higher. He can feel the blood run, tickling the back of his legs. His sweat stings the cuts.
She couldn't help it, damn her body, she couldn't not. Her voice rained from her lips in harsh screams as she convulsed around him. She bit his shoulder in an effort to wound him, mark him, take something back from him.
He breathed one word softly into her ear.
Illusions [24 Jul 2004|03:42pm]
What am I?
Is this the sacrifice of something that I need? Is this what offers itself to the dark when I fear it? Vicariously though me she is able to satiate her desires because I am weak and she is strong.
My shield is at times my prison.
My weapon is at times my death.
What is it I am to do? Do I have the option to curl up and pretend that what I know isn't real? Can I run away from everything up till now?
I do not think there exists a true freedom, there does not exist a perfect peace.
This artifice wounds me so deep that my blood is an ocean for the lost to swim in.
Lost and Found [28 Jul 2004|04:10pm]
"Sir, you forgot your bag."
He turns around and stares at the vallet.
"Wouldn't I recognize the bag if I had forgotten it?" He walks over to the boy in the monkey suit. "I do not recognize that bag in your hand, therefore it is not mine."
"That is not my bag, and you would do well to remember that."
The confused boy stood there and watched the man walk away. Once the gentleman was out of sight he went to see his supervisor.
"Chad, a man left his bag upstairs in his room, then when I went to take it too him he refused it, said the bloody bag wasn't his." he lifted the bag for Chad to see. "I watched him pack it."
Chad sighed and looked up from the pile of papers on his desk.
"What do you want me to do about it? Maybe he wanted to forget about it. Put it in lost and found and if the guy wants it, he'll come back for it."
The boy in the monkey suit nods and leaves the room.
District 37: Fear [05 Aug 2004|08:20am]
Gold [14 Aug 2004|10:08pm]
The sun was shining through the windows and glinting brilliantly off of the feshly mopped floor. The book, forgotten in her hands, slipped and eventually feel to the floor. The pages soaked up the water as she soaked up the sun. Nothing but dust stired in the light.
In that dust lay the galaxies of the universe made from skin. Each was unique and small, billions, floating and coliding into one another. A delicate dance these players spun. Bits of gold and silver and pure bright white, tiny fractions of pink and red, violet, teal, indigo.
There was no couch beneath her, no wooden arm rest to lean against. no desk, no people, no skin, no bones and no blood. And for once, the sky full of stars and galaxies and universes was not jet, but a peacful pale gold. A gold that one could swim for ever in. A gold to lose the cares of perfection in.
A breath invaded her, pushing searing pain ahead of it. One nerve at a time regained life. Eye lids closed over dry eyes and a toung wet dry lips.
One breath at a time, she fell back into her body. That cell, prison, ocean.
The beauty of life is the pain of living. The golrious struggle to become what someone else wants to realize that you have become what you need, through pain. The sweetness of death is in the strange lack of suffering. She thinks, death is the loss of what what makes life into living. To love, she thinks, is the pinnacle of living. When one loves, they open themselves up,willingly, to be hurt and hurt in turn. Never, in any other facet of life do we leave so much of ourselves in the path of torture and blood and pain. We trust others to flay us to the bone, to bring marrow, sweet and burning to the air. We wholly give our will into the hands of a stranger and trust them to make the blood well and flow over our skin. In that moment we remember that we are warm, we are full, we are real. We are living in that moment.
She thinks, that perhaps death is not for her. in death there is no conflict. There is only worms under your flesh and bacteria eating your bones. there is no pain after dying. There is only tree roots growing through the holes of your pelvis. Death, to die, is to stop living. To die is to not be of the gold dust of the universe, it is to be sucked back into frozen earth that remains dark even as beauty grows from it.
She slowly leans down and picks up her book. The pages are wet from lieing on the freshly mopped floor. She brushes her hair back from her face and closes her eyes. The gold warmth of the sun places it fingers on her face. It gently runs over the bridge of her nose and tucks itself into the corners of her mouth. The taste of sunshine is ripe berries from the bush. Sweet and cold, with no real flavor but clean. The fingers of the sun press over her eyes softly, running in thin webbed stream from the corner. They slide back into her hair and light it with fire. Then the sun is risen. The light has left the morning and become day.
She sits up in her chair and watches the people walk by, unaware of the beauty of living.
Pretense [13 Sep 2004|03:26pm]
You actually believe that you belong to this place don't you?
now, I say, lead me away into your realm of ghosts and chocolate. Tell me no more of your fancies and half dreamed realities. I would hear nothing of your attempts at breathing or becoming wet from rain. Sleep and lets demons run themselves ragged and tired, then file them away in manila folders next to the paperwork from your fingernail clippings. Go tuck your precious wilted weeds into envelops to be mailed to the Embassy of France. I would like to not visit the world on a grain of dust in the shadow of your hand. Close your eyes and remember that the earth is just as warm as the womb and at times, when needed the most, missing from under your feet.
rambling, shambling, left to rot.
go away, go away
come again some other day
hide, you, your face from me
I'll not be a cup for your tears
or the hands
by which you'll convince yourself to suicide
I'll be mixed along the way
pulled in and pulled down
past where you were comfort
past where you were my pain
play the song you want to hear
we'll dance and dance and dance
until your dizzy and sick and can't breathe
I'll spin you round and round
til you can't remember and can't see
We're not going to play this game again
where I am left shunned
Where my windows are broken
Where I have to pick up the pieces
No, darling, we aren't going to play this game
Where I swallow your shit
And am left to offer smiles
Isolate and save you
From what I stand for
My hands, my fears, my love of chaos,
stay with me
before I can remember how to breathe
go back to sleep
I want to go back
Before the time
of shaking hands
and wet cheeks
between my love for you
and my aching need
to be free
to be free
f r e e
Needy and weary
I'll take your hands
and lead you away
to softer places
to nicer faces
so when people see
the broken man
they wont cringe
or shy away
send me into the sun
I'll burn up
and throw my ashes in your face
but you wont understand
higher, before I can remember what it is to fall
Miss me, let me soar towards the ground
And scream and scream and scream
You don't know what it is to be me
These hands have been cuffed before
f r e e.