He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled a cigarette from a worn box with the label half rubbed off. Lighting the end, he closed his eyes, then breathed in the smoke as his mind gave in, with barely a fight. He didn’t smoke for the fun of it, nor for the sake of street-rat charm– not even for the rebel in him that smirked at the faces of disapproving mothers as he leaned against the wall of a corner shop, taking long, exaggerated drags. No, not for these reasons. He smoked instead for the sake of familiarity. In this new world of mystery and the unknown… it was the only thing that reminded him of home.
It’s a secret, how she watches us– living each of our days, in and out of consciousness. She wonders if we notice her, staring kindly through our glassy windows and peering into each of our fast-asleep souls. She listens as quiet breathes escape our half-open mouths, like a silent language known by all. It’s our dreams that most interest her; she watches our eyelids flutter as our imagination paints silhouettes and blurred images. Some of our dreams overlap and intertwine; she takes the pieces and sews them together– a quilt of both vivid imagination and intimate memories to fold over the world. As a world, we dream. As a world, we imagine. As a world, we create and explore and live alternate lives in the unconscious. She keeps us extraordinary… Keeps us a little more than simply “human”.
In an eerie secrecy, it was the raven that landed on the water’s edge. Nudging its sharp beak into the dirt to appease the hunger pains, it sliced through the ground, divulging the pulsing earth beneath its soil disguise. Beside the raven, the red river gushed and gurgled in a silent agony. The crimson fell slowly down the hillside, whispering to the night all the pains it wished to wash away. These whispers, however, were lost among the brightness of the stars. The raven finished its repeated piercing, took a drink of red, satisfied, and flew away, cawing at the river’s endless cries.
I’m not one to live a life
just “one day at a time”–
But, then again, it does not good
to reason without rhyme.
The kiss of sorrow winters fool
the blades beneath our feet–
though not until the darkness falls
do shallow voices speak.
We talk about freedom,
we wish about love,
we sing about peace–
or the lack thereof.
We discuss all the tension,
the truth and the lies,
we question all life
and the men in disguise.
Lost spirits appear in my wake
And ask if they’ve done well.
I assure them that the only way
To walk is straight through Hell.
Within the shadows, ghosts still haunt
And sing an eerie tune.
Turn around and find, my friend,
That you’ll meet Death quite soon.
I’ve a song for the starving soul.
Sweet melodies will play in the ears of the broken
And harsh clangs will beat in the heads of the unworthy.
Midnight frightens all that pass.
Nothing’s beyond the looking glass.
I can’t see you, you can’t see me–
It’s just how it’s supposed to be.
Do not label me as naive–
I’ve seen the ways the natural spirit engulfs
The world in water and flames
As blood washes over fate
And freezes like ice.
Remember all those memories, Love?
But you’ve left me, afraid of fear.
Though I happen to not miss you at all,
And I’m quite glad you’re not here.
It’s a game to them, they don’t understand,
They think that all is well.
But Earth is falling and Heaven is crumbling
Down to the depths of Hell.
Ghostly silhouettes, fair maidens dressed in white.
Ghostly, cunning ghouls dance in candlelight.
Bind all your secrets with my soul, I’d gladly take the fight.
But leave them not too long, or else, they’ll soon be out of sight.
I’ve yet to tell the dawn
To cease its glowing ascent.
The moon, still in its presence,
Falters in glory.
Blushing, it recedes into the
Wisps of air and mist,
Though not as rosy
As the Sun that captures
Of the world.
The moon dares not challenge
The Divine Radiance.
Maybe… it’s all an act. I laugh and smile demonically, letting the idea simmer in my mind, turning over in its flesh as its soul separates from its body. Maybe… none of it’s real. We are all smoke in a world of invisible life and cold, stone floors. We SEE nothing, we HEAR nothing, we SPEAK nothing, we FEEL nothing– physically or emotionally. Everything you see only exists to you. No one else. Beyond your realm of understanding and imagination, the world simply… ends. It descends into nothingness, dissolves into lonely darkness. Speaking into that virtually nonexistent air can’t carry a sound. You’re communicating with your mind, your thoughts because your audible… or rather, inaudible, ha… voice cannot possibly be heard. Search forever, you will, for a source of this nothingness– this emptiness– this non-being. Devoting your life to this soulless search and tiring journey with no end… and no purpose. The journey is impossible, my friend, because there IS no reason for the emptiness besides YOU. YOU created this world… this colossal break in time and space. YOU were the creator of your own life and being, and therefore, the world around you! YOU are the world. The world is YOU. Deny it not, my brother in life, deny it not. For you must understand it because I, myself, placed the idea in your weak, defenseless mind and TOLD you to agree to it. After all… isn’t this MY imagined world?
Suggest the first plan that comes to mind. Lean toward it, hold your breath. Wait for the end. Quake under the pressure of silence. Be afraid of it all. Don’t look back. But you know that’s useless advice. You’ll look back anyway. I know you will. I’ve done it so many times before. Nahh, I lied– don’t be afraid. Just stare off dramatically into the darkness and pretend you know what you’re seeing– what you’re talking about. Don’t stress. Just press your hands against the wall, brace your back and cry until your eyes leak blood instead of tears.
It’s how life works, isn’t it? How we’ve all come to be.
Don’t kid yourself. You know just as well as I do.
Kiss the air,
because they’re all you have.
They won’t leave you… like people will.
Well… unless you suffocate…
until it turns day…
or until the stars explode.
Well then, my friend… you are most alone.