Archive | June, 2012


30 Jun

I wanted to rush into the water

I wanted to jump in and swim away,

But I stood there, above the edge, close enough to feel the chill,

Fear crept around the edges of my skin,

My mind wasn’t ready for this,

So weak

So fucking weak.


I wanted to jump in, I really did

But wanting was not enough

I had to do it

And stop thinking so much

Thinking too much always killed what I could do


I am stronger only when I take a jump.

When I take a chance.


Everyday jumping farther into the cold,

And once the initial shock has faded,

The chill no longer bothers me,

I become the water

My body and mind mix with it

Making me a better

More powerful person,

Who knows when to jump,

And forgets little fears.


The Bottle

27 Jun

The blonde woman with the red dress looked at me across the table in the overly filled restaurant she was smiling at me, and I did not know why.

“You will get better” she exclaimed with a wave of her hand summoning the waiter

“Yeah and how do you know?” I asked

“I just know”

“Is this a dream?” not wanting to know the answer, not really.

“Everything is a dream” laughing a bit, she was twirling one of her locks in her hair as the waiter made his way over. I turned my face away from him once I realized who he was.

“Aw don’t be like that!” the blonde-haired woman told me. It was easy for her she was beautiful. She could have anyone that she wanted.

“I don’t want to be here. I want to go back.”
“Go back where? To your bed? To home?”

“Yes!” I felt sweat dripping down my face, the room had grown hotter. The people around us were talking louder, getting closer. The tables were started to clunk together. All the round tables, with their silk coverings and delicate glass plates and cups. Clanking together making awful sounds. The sound of doom.

“Your going to have to face It.” she said to me then turned her attention to the waiter. “Death, we would like a bottle of the best.”

The waiter did not say anything.

She was pouring something into the wine glasses. The waiter had left; I just knew the presence that was prickling at my side no longer existed.

“You shouldn’t be so scared.”

“I can’t help it, I’m only human!” I yelled.

“Here drink this.” she handed me a wine glass. I looked down at the drink. It was no wine I knew that, a dark black liquid showed my eyes at the surface. Eyes, which I did not know, eyes that glowed yellow. I knocked the glass over. It burned the table, burned through it, creating an awful crooked hole.

I looked up at the woman, her wonderful featured were twisted in anger.

“No one has ever done that, no one has ever dared!”

“So what are you going to do?” Somehow, I had gained courage. What could she do to me anyway this was a dream.

“Nothing, it’s what you do.”

The occupants of the restaurant were all over me hovering around the hole, around me.

“Drink, drink, drink, drink, drink!” the voices were getting louder, urgent,  hissing at me. Listen to them, do their bidding? If I did not I was sure they would hurt me.

“Please…” I said looking up towards the woman. But the space she had inhabited was empty. I was all alone.

I turned and the people were no longer crowded around me. In fact, the whole room was empty.

I felt the waiter come back, felt deaths prickly presence walking over.

“Oh no, oh no” I whispered to myself, turning in the seat. Something heavy was placed before me. I turned around and death was not there anymore but a bottle was. A wine bottle with the black liquid.

Red letters were inscribed on the bottle:

Just do it

So I took the bottle to my lips, no cork to block my way. I looked around one last time. No audience, no one to tell me what to do. I was finally completely alone.

I tipped the heavy, cool glass up to my lips…and drank.

Child’s Imagination

25 Jun

I was about five years old, it was summer time in the big city,

The sea was close by, and I was excited as we got into the taxi,

Ready to go have some splashing adventures,

Stuck in traffic we waited for a few minutes, maybe more

Memory is tricky in that way

But I remember turning around and seeing a man with sunglasses, a charcoal jumpsuit and a heavy black mustache running down the streets, he had a bag in his hand, a large pink woman’s bag!

Another man was chasing after him,

A blonde older man, and after him a young woman with short hair like a pixie her breasts bouncing about, sweat running down from her hair-line, worry distorting her her face.

I don’t know what happened next, but I remember thinking wow!

My cousin had not seen the thief, which I assumed he was,

But because I was a child and mixed with excitement and fear my cousin tried explaining “no no it doesn’t happen all the time!” “ he won’t get you”

I wasn’t afraid of the thief getting me. I just really wanted to know: what happens next!?

Another funny thing happened that summer at the age of five,

When we were in the airport, sitting with my parents at the terminal

I was people watching and docile,

All kinds of humans walking with their luggage, looking for their flights.

When I saw a woman with a wonderful grey colored trench coat that clung to her figure. Medium length blonde hair, a pretty face, though my memory can’t give me a vivid picture any more,

Anyway I noticed that there was something strange about her, she didn’t have any luggage.

None at all, only shopping bags. And in her hand she had a walkie talkie and was whispering into it.

AH I thought I had caught  a secret agent! I was so curious, who was she, what was she doing? Did she work for the government? Did she live an exciting life?

It’s funny these random pictures that I remember.

I’ve never seen anything quite like that again,

The thief and the secret agent.

Or maybe is it because I have gotten older and lost that childlike curiosity,

And the ability to see things as if they were stories,

Curiosity is the key to story telling.

I believe it because once you go out and start looking at things

Or people, or even just sit in your room and look out the window—

The stories will come to you.

Woodland Monster Dreams

24 Jun

I was stuck in the dream for what felt like days

No movements from the body which I inhabited

And I suspected it was the body of a rock

Cold, and smooth, muddy with the earth and all her blessed gifts

The soil gave me hope

And strength

Beyond the vision of the tree’s I saw the monster running

It was a strange and horrible monster

It grew each step it took closer and closer to me

It’s long arms were the color of blood its

Face had no eyes only a long wide mouth and two jagged front teeth

Stained with black and red, those teeth told me the story I didn’t want to hear

But had to see

The monster grabbed me

Grabbed my wonderful smooth surface

It’s hands were grimy, and coarse

An uncomfortable feeling, a violation—

I was meant to stay in the earth, I was meant to bathe in the sun, and sleep under the moon.

But the monster took me and hurled me into the wood. I was flying through the air

Flying like a decrepit bird

And finally I hit the fire

The fire which roasted me into smithereens

And then all I was

All I turned into was dust

Scattered into the woods

I became the tree’s

The grass, flowers and wood.

And it wasn’t too bad.

The Monster had long since left.

But there were other things in these woods creeping and crawling

Killing, violating all forms of my world, all forms of me

Because I was the world

I was all parts of it.

And then the dream ended.

I was in a bed

Human again,

But not really,

Not in my mind.

Lamentation & Nightmares

18 Jun

Nightmares are evil things

I’m not sure why the mind produces them

maybe to warn us

maybe to freak us out a little more

But I hate it…


I hate the memory

the blood and glass

the skin peeling off as if made of wax



Every time I wake up from this plaguing memory,

The dream, which is so vivid

so real that I feel like I was there again

and every time I want to scream

but I don’t

I want to cry

I want to do something that’s destructive

But I don’t.

Because the real and the unreal can’t mix



Only on paper

only in ink am I safe

the only place where I have control

is between the pen and my hand…



I only hope one day

these nightmare will end

I only hope that I can come to grips

with what happened

understand that it just did.



But a part of me

that scared

fearful part

wants it all to end

wishes that I had been the person who died that day.



But I didn’t.



I kept living,

It’s been over a decade.

Wow a decade that’s a long time.

And I still remember

probably never forget.


It’ll take some time

before I can distinguish

what these nightmares means

because right now

it’s still to fresh

and I’m still to weak

to human

to understand the difference between surviving

and living.

Unique Animals

16 Jun

Humans are unique to all animals

for many reasons

because we can think

because we can build  castles

and sky scrapers

and communicate in a million different ways

To me the reason we are the most unique

is because we are the only beings, that know there is an endpoint…

that death is inevitable.

I struggled with the point

even if there wasn’t one

I had to find one for myself

and maybe the point of life

is not to be so worried with the end

but to create and leave something behind

that will last forever.

So death can never really touch us

because the way to immortality lies in us.

Musings of the Lost

13 Jun

What if you knew that you couldn’t fail at what your doing

what I am saying is what if you knew that no matter what you do you would win

Somehow some way you win.

Isn’t that such a nice frame of mind?

Actually it’s a fantastic way to think

to have that perspective

that every goal is achievable

that the future is yours to make….!

Here’smy problem : fear

and through the stem of fear other problems arise:

self doubt and the idea that I have no control–

and when one thinks this way motivation ceases to exist.

I want that motivation back!


Instead I think I must please other people

before I please my self

that I am second, or last

or not even an option

and I am not sure where this thinking has come from…

but not I know it exists…

So I’ve come to a crossroads in my life,

I can start saying yes to myself

start listening to what I want

I can start saying what I want is possible!


It will be a struggle,

between my old thoughts dominating

and the new ones replacing them

I only hope….change is in my path

I wonder have you ever change the way you think

and when you do–does your life transform?