The Begining of all things to end

Big house in the woods, imposing and desolate....except for the room with the window. The window overlooking the woods. The quiet man, his movements and actions covered in shades of gray, in shades of the trees around him. His actions are deliberate without any hints of what is to come. He obsesses over a certain article of clothing or a drawing. The stillness is what gets you first, the silence crouches upon you, it gets close enough for you to feel its tingle, the shivers that start at the base of your spine and spray themselves over your scalp. You start wondering about the prescence of a childhood and then flashbacks start cascading into the light as you stare out the window. The wind blows the leaves around and you find the leaves drawing a pattern into the space attracting your gaze. What childhood, with only the swaying of the trees and the rustling of the leaves as the child picks his way through the rocks. He can feel the force of something scraping his back and the feeling that something unwanted wants him. Something so loathe desires his company. He wanders into his little cave, gropes around the darkness and finds little pieces of forbidden thoughts strewn across the cave floor. On account of the fact that darkness can suck anything in to it with just its emptiness was not lost on the boy and it devoured him.


Obsessed with the notion of denying the conformity that his loneliness has limited him to, the quiet man strips away the feeling itching at the surface. He scrapes and claws again and again, till he can see the bones of his own madness. In a moment of unbridled pain he remembers the cave and then clarity washes over him. Lapsing into a whisper he shudders with pleasure which is almost orgasmic...almost. The psyche can only take so much without deteriorating and the cracks had long been savaged. It was the loneliness that killed him, the endless whispers, and the caresses splaying across his body as he drifted among the curtains of his domain.



Sure he knew that everything and anything of consequence could be broken down into simpler parts, rather like the chemistry of organic compounds. What he couldn't figure out was if chance had eyes in the back of its head. What if the dice rolled didn't have a predetermined fate and due to some unexplainable cosmic reason clashed with Einstein's statement before he ever made it. What then of the existence of reason and logic? Scratching the ravines of blood and bone, he felt an overwhelming sense of claustrophobia and realized that he had come a full circle again with Einstein, a broken spoke, of his bent cycle. What did chance have to do with anything...what?




I'm starting to feel like the voice inside a drunkard's head... I am starting to feel like yesterdays thought in today's lament....

Sanity waiting to be restored

Feeling like yesterday's clothes on a beggar too proud to beg... feeling like the space between a blink and a tear....

Feeling like my time has come before my regrets were buried.... Feeling like my dreams haven't been lived before...

Feel like kissing u sweet n tender...

Feeling like letting the touch last as long as the memory... feel like losing my being in it

Feel like taking the touch higher.... To a place where memories don't fade.... where dreams lie soft on your hurt

Feeling like drowning in the supple hollow of thy neck.... Feeling like the fleeting dreams that hurt enough to keep it all fresh....

Feel like letting this moment last...feel like hurting anybody who comes in the way

Feeling like agony singing its requiem for that last dewdrop.... Feeling the moments last caress on thine gentle brow...... just you and i travel this path.....

She breaks it

Feeling hope unfurl like the rancid petals of desire.... 'tis sad she breaks it when he needs it most..... But isn't that just her??????



Current Mood: Gloomy
Current Music: Wishful Thinking