The screech of the rubber sliding across the slick asphalt was music to my ears. It was the serenity of the seconds in the moment. Screeeeeech. Seconds seem to pass as I saw the headlights coming closer and closer.

I watched it unfold in the most beautiful way.

The look of surprised horror on his face. I almost wanted to say, don't be afraid my friend. You'll be just fine. Though, he wouldn't hear me if I tried. The plastic collided with the plastic, and the aluminum with the aluminum. The glass from my window shattered and flew into my waving hair.

The entire moment was poetic really. The words leading up to the explosion of the moment. Crunching and crushing cars. My music was loud, but I could no longer hear it. The airbags turned my car into a great pillow castle. My body bouncing back and forth as I tumbled and spun within my car.

I saw them coming. The large wooden obstacles strewn across my path. And as they approached, I did not scream or cry... I laughed. I laughed heartily and without remorse. I laughed right in the face of death, because it no longer phases me.

The crushing blow of a wooden spike at fifty miles an hour pierced my chest, and seat. Pinning me to this car forever. My vehicle finally came to rest. Ironically, right side up. My collapsed lung and severed arteries told me I had as much time as the length of my accident.

I choked and laughed again. The scene was quite beautiful in a horrific manner. The adrenaline was keeping the tsunami of pain from swallowing my consciousness. Ironically, draining me of blood faster.

My memories took me on a final tour of my life. The faces of the people who loved and cared for me. The sadness I'd have to leave them behind. I could hear the voice of the horrified man. "Oh my god, are you okay?"

I laughed with him. "Fine brother. No worries." My body began to choke on my deoxygenated blood. "I've never died before, it's been quite an experience." As parts of my brain fluttered with confusion and breakdown, I smiled.

"It might be the last time I ever smile, or ever do anything. Might as well go out with a positive force, if however slight." I thought to myself.

A positive force.

Positive force.

The sparkling blue stars began to fall into my moment. This was my moment, the final one in a lifetime of them. Blue stars sparkled on the distressed man's face. Speckled across my dusty dashboard and muddy broken car. Brightened my fading vision of the world for one last time. One last second.

I breathed in, to pain and suffering. The air escaped from my lungs slowly, caressing each cell as it did. And I did something, I've always wanted to end with. I sighed. I sighed a sigh of relief.

A sigh of contentment.

A

ghostly

sigh

of

freedom.

Spiders and Pills

The old wooden garage door moaned and clanked as it ascended. It kept mumbling about how the elderly shouldn't be treated this way, and how he always has to do all the work. The warm air from the garage wrapped around me as the portal opened pushing the cool night air away.

The earth spins slowly.

Night time here is always painfully serene, crickets chirping and raindrops falling. The humming of the peaceful orange street lamps, the perfect undertone. The world doesn't notice me there, waiting to enter my home. The world doesn't notice me here, waiting to enter my home.

My world spins slowly.

As I step into the open mouth of my garage, a dark cavern of modern culture. The crumbled rocks dance across the floor as my feet interact with them. The garage door moans once again, as it descends back to it's resting place.

My hands grip the golden door knob connecting my cavern to my room. The spiders crawl out from the doorknob. Dancing their way all over my body, infesting my skin and nerves. I can see my reflection in the golden spherical knob, it bends and stretches and screams. It spins, slowly.

I still am waiting here, in front of this spinning knob. Waiting for the door to open.
With the spiders.
And the garage door.
And the crickets, and the raindrops.
And the street lamps.
And the world.

Blood and Glass

Their voices carried my mind away.

Discussing ailments of the body, of the mind. Physiologic disorders and of possible diagnosis.

I slept a sleep of an ugly mind and tired body. Underneath the inactivity of conscious, my subconscious raged and ravaged the land of my conscious mind.

My conscious used to be the master of my world. Strong, prolific and structured. I remember the days when I slept well.

I remember those days when my consciousness did not need to be stolen from me. It waned voluntarily, not afraid to let the night shift take over...

The room was beautifully lit. Chandeliers full of flickering flames hung from the ceiling, hung with thousands of pieces of glass, in every imaginable shape. The mahogany table was littered with the remains of paints and crayons. Scribbled on pieces of paper lain strewn about the table and the floor.

The ceilings of the room were not ceilings at all, but storm clouds flowing and swirling above my head. The candles immediately were extinguished with a gust of wind. And suddenly the room was chaotic, violent. The papers swirled and flew, brushing against my face and body.

The papers all had the same thing, written hundreds of times on them. In as many formats imaginable, there was my name. My name swirled around me. My hair flew back and forth within the wind. The glass of the now suspended chandeliers chattered and spoke to me in the language of glass.

The moment was oddly calming, standing in the stormy room. The wind began to whip wildly and pushed me to my knees. The chandelier's glass started to shatter. Bit my bit the fragments of glass pierced my face and body. Like a symphony of raindrops, directed by the wind.

I started to scream. Started to pierce the violent wordlessness of the wind with my voice. With each passing second my blood, arteries, body filled with glass. My eyes shimmered with blood and glass.

I saw myself standing there, in agony and confusion. Bloody and alone.

The wind was gone now.

My screams echoed within the high ceilings of the room. The chandeliers hung complacently, completely at rest. Their glass pieces now missing, candles extinguished. Only their bare metal frames remained. Mockingly as I fell to the floor.

Dying, dead. Gone.

They had survived and I had not.

"WAKE UP!"

My eyes tried to adjust to the darkness. Her green eyes looked into mine, uneasily. I searched for boundaries, completing my sanity self check, I replied.

"What is it, Monkey Face?"

"You were screaming again, James. It was scary. I couldn't wake you up. Are you okay? What were you dreaming about?"

"I don't remember, my love. I'm sorry."

She seemed to search my face for truth, but found none.

"It's okay. Just try and get some sleep, okay?"

"I love you." I whispered as I kissed her forehead.

"I love you, too." She replied and smiled.

And off I drifted again.

march on little soldiers

you can have my rations
my alcohol hidden in the water bottle i carry
my gun
my shoes
and my clothes

i wish to die possessionless and alone

just as i was alive

in death i will not be obligated to march
nor stand at attention
not staring into the sun's bright glare
across the mountains and buildings

i will never again be forced to stand straight
when i just want to sit

never be forced to forego my rest
for the sake of experiencing the night

walking through the gauntlet of sleepless business women and men
marching through bullets piercing my persona
of mistrust and betrayal

no longer will i sleep awake
soullessly walk

march on little soldiers

and fulfill your destiny without me

i am my solitary manifestation of insecurity.

every moment that passes that I am unguarded by my own built defense mechanisms i cringe due to the exposure

i am simply everything i'm not

i am my sense of overwhelming innocence
i am my fake sense of childhood

i am closeted
i am scared
i am lonely
it's my fault

i am a sleeping dormant adult
and no one at all

i am the insomniac without a cause
and a dream without a mind

i am my overwhelming sense of boredom with the world
with myself
with everything and everyone

so predictably softly hard
i'm not

me? i'm not

i'll be a child all my life
suppose i'm doomed to it after all
predestined by whatever in my life
the root causes not significant enough to matter

books

intertwined words, phrases, stories
with characters, individuals that roam
my mind, on their misadventures
trying to save the world
my world
their world

i lose myself inside them
every minute i can
forget who, what and where i am

until nothing exists but the story
the plot, the climax

tunnel vision, ignorant to my world
and it's characters, individuals that roam
my life, on their misadventures
trying to save the world
my world
their world

doesn't make much sense.

they say that the keys to the subconscious lie in the inner-workings of our mind.
somewhere, in between the battered cabinets, doors, hallways and skylights...
there lies the key to finding yourself.
a key you are destined never to find, but try endlessly searching for it
underneath the couch pillows of your life, stuck with quarters and candy
destined to be seen by only those who choose to look in the most obvious of places

they say that somewhere
someplace
you and I aren't

they say that somewhere
we're
different, you and I

aren't oblivious

oblivious to the locked doors in our minds
oblivious to the fact that we're much deeper and different than we seem on the outside

and much less, more or less

ambiguously together for reasons beyond reason itself
it seems as though

i dream of the day where

i am someone.

more than just ambiguously living among the dead
residing and complaining
vicariously

i live through the living

When You're Gone

I am my own inevitable loneliness, standing right beside myself.

When you're gone,
it just won't be the same

Maybe not even worth it at all

When you're gone,
oh, how I dread when you're gone

Because I will be truly alone,
not just the figurative lonely lie I propose

I shake at the thought
And shudder and weep

When you're gone
the sun will not set quite the same
the moon will not shine as bright
the birds, trees and people will shun my existence
Unlike you

When you're gone
I will sleep no more
and my life will be a everlasting nightmare of what once was
memories turned coarse and mournful

Oh, how I miss you already
Oh, how my acid tears, my emotions
my searing rage cannot possibly express

My life is leaving
going far away
never to truly return to me

But don't worry, because I'm still left with this empty shell
which is good for nothing at all

Good for sleepless nights
and addiction to escape

Good truly and only for ending

The million ways I could say I love you
do not possibly encompass it enough

The trillion ways I could say I need you
just wouldn't be quite enough

Won't this nightmare end soon?

I have taken you for granted all this time
not properly savored the moments of your sweet presence
of your sweet skin
and bones
eyes and neck

I love you more than words can purely describe
through much more than anyone has experienced
much more than has ever been uttered before

and I shatter without you

i shatter and fall.

Bubble Bubble Toil Trouble

I guess you could say it was inevitable.
I guess you could tell me that she was just a figment of my imagination,
I would force myself to believe it was true.

Your unconditional love, was riddled with hidden conditions and contracts...
And such turmoil rocks my very structure.
Your love is not as unique as I once thought,
given away to people for simple change it seems.

While you might have loved her and I, so to speak.
Then your love turns to dust before it caresses my skin.

And deeper into my own rabbit hole I fall.
I'm just a girl, just one person
Wishing I could be what you need
But would you really come back if I was?
If I am?

I would still give myself to you all over again,
Forgive and forget, as long as you still utter
softly into my ear that you love me
Always, forever

But the demon inside me, now lurks at the surface
And I fear I will succumb to it's strength over me
I have not much
Not very much at all to give
To a boy who dreams of the world, but knows nothing of it

A boy, formerly my boy
That could not grasp the reality of me
And I can no longer grasp your reality
Your every movement tantalizes me

Reminds me of what you once were

But what are you now, sweet prince?

You've broken your promise
And I've served my time
I've forgiven you, far more then you deserve
So many times, you've told me

It's only temporary
Only temporary
I don't really love her
love her
love her

I don't really need her
need her
need her

Then why do you still hold her and not me?
Succumb to her but not I?

You cannot face your truth, cannot face what you've sown
for yourself.
The words leave my tongue, burning it as they do

Do you love me?

Your eyes are pools of brown,
And they answer solemnly
Not anymore

But you do not
You no longer need to answer

And I am yours no more.

We're all dying.

We're all dying.

I'm just doing it much quicker than normal. What is normal really though?
You could die while reading my story. Distracted by it's innards, completely oblivious to the tow truck barreling down your street. You could be dying right now.

We're all dying though. So don't feel too bad.

That's really how I ended up where I am now. In this hospital bed, ticking the moments away. Entertaining myself with thoughts similar to this one.

We're all dying.

They say my time to go is coming soon. The nurses and doctors come to visit me.
My responses to them remain the same as they were before. And their responses are equally as static. They are as cold and emotionally inane as I am.

My life has been fulfilling in an odd sense. Fulfilling in the way I truly wanted it to be. I write this truly in hope that someone will read my story. They will listen to the ramblings of my mind. Shitty metaphors and all. Maybe it will supply bearing to their life, or maybe it will end up as kindling. The last call before my death must be attempted, no matter how bleak the odds of it reaching someone.

My name is Baker, and this is my story.


(Baker's Intro. Book, Intro)

Discipline

I need your discipline,
Your government to my anarchy.
I'm a fiend, a liar and a coward.
Itching for pupil dilation.

I need your help,
Flying solo isn't as easy with broken wings.

Leaves

As the leaves fall all around me,
Spinning and fluttering

Destined to touch the earth,
But denying the inevitability until the end

Something so simple,
Yet extraordinarily hard to comprehend

I bask in the ideals of reality,
Sunlight feeding my dark seedlings

But despite the growing cynicism,
There is always room to float among the simplistic

Even for a moment,
Fulfill the child in me

And throw the leaves above my head,
Watch them twist and weave...

Making their way back down
Inevitably.

Beauty

Deep within the confines of your mind,
Just below the surface of your skin

You cannot control yourself
You couldn't muster the strength to know yourself

Putting pressure in all the right places,
Sliding fingers around your hips

Your decision puts you into a very advantageous position
But that is your own delusion

You are most vulnerable when distracted by yourself
And before you know it,

You'll be laying in his bed again,
Wondering where the time went.

I can't believe it's not butter, spray

I couldn't understand the compatibility between an intellectual and an idiot,
but responsibility changes your whole mentality.
And I'll wake up tomorrow and realize I've got my whole life to live
or maybe I won't

I'll sleep out in the doghouse as long as you're not there
It'll give me some time to think, about how this place could really use some curtains
so people won't see you walking around naked in the morning.

Even though you don't care,
even though our incompatibilities will always run rampant upon the peace

Something still holds me to you
I'll always come home, even if I've had the option to leave for forever

but once I'm home, I'll hate it

The fridge light burns my eyes,
it's close to empty, just like my box of patience

Maybe I'll just leave
Just walk out that door right now

And leave you with your doubts

But you look so good laying in that bed,
Reading a book you couldn't care about

Skin so tight around those bones
So real and yet so fake

But if you don't care, then I don't care

So I'll listen to you moan
Before I sleep
Sweetest lullaby for my instincts
Even if I know that's fake too.

November

Some One: I'm sorry for my recent absence. I've been intwined in a lot of work. Struggling to find the time for blog posts. A goal is set to have my book published by mid-next year. I'll update when it's ready for pre-order.

november

sort of feels a bit emptier
since they buried you

it seems like just yesterday
i was standing in your living room
listening to you talk to me about your life
and how great it is

or was
just goes to show you
that life in

november

isnt the same as death in december.

photos of you

i could stand here forever
basking in the immense glory of your presence
a spark and short circuit in my brain leaves me in an infinite loop of your face, eyes, body

maybe somehow
maybe someway

nose, lips, cheeks

we'll run into each other again

hair, legs, feet

perhaps i'll just stand here star-struck for a while
and take pictures i'll never be able to develop

it's a life of quiet dignity
a curse, because i won't forget as easily as the next
as the rest

i've seen great beauty in my lifetime
in so many more forms than I could describe
i still have the negatives in my mind

still pause upon them in awe
in appreciation that such elegance exists

the screensaver of my body
staring off into the bland distance

but painting it with grandeur only i can see.

Cheshire Cat

I smile because I can see through you beautiful one.

I can see through to your corrupted thoughts, you wish no one to see.

I can see your dark desires, the urges of your subhuman mind.

Where you hide away those thoughts, is where I choose to dwell.
Escaping them, or me... it just isn't an option.

The futility of this moment is fleeting, because control is only lost for moments at a time.

My exploitation of these moments, will always hold true to that.

Hold true to you.

And until next time, I'll be here. Waiting, dwelling in the darkness.

Eulogy

There was someone I knew for a short, but long time. Someone who was different, much different than any other person I've ever met. Not because she liked a certain kind of music, nor because she liked art. Not because she liked ice cream and french fries. Even though she did.

She made art out of life, out of luck, out of time.

Unlike myself, she was always running out of time. Running out of life, and never had any luck. And all of that shaped her, and ended up changing me too. She lived, like there was no tomorrow. Because for her, there might not be. Maybe that's only half true, but I'll explain that later on.

I first met Alex through a friend of mine, James. Crazy fellow, always known for breaking rules intelligently. Someone I admired. He'd talked about her like he admired her, and I felt I had to do the same. If James admired anyone, they had to be interesting.

I wasn't wrong.

When she stepped onto the train, I didn't believe it was her. She was dressed as if she was just working on Wall Street.
First words are sometimes a very good judgement of someone's character.

"So, who's this statue James?"

We ended up going to a racing meet that night. I didn't have a car to drive, just tagged along for the adrenaline. When James uncovered Alex's silver BMW Imported Twin Supercharged Silver X5, it was just as astonishing as her initial appearance.

"Re-built it myself."
"I'm impressed, Alex."
"You would be."

I'd driven with James before. A man who knew the limits of his car and his driving. Wrecklessly safe.

I decided I'd ride with Alex. A decision that would change my life.

It was the first time that I've ever had a conversation with someone at 130+ miles per hour, completely calm and regular. The first time that I've heard someone quote Niechtze while listening to a russian piano sonata, with their life coming so close to ending. But not. I grew to know that feeling, to love that feeling. I rode with Alex for at least two more race meets, and each time it was the same. She was able to outwit me in advanced conversation, without losing focus on keeping us from being wrapped around a tree.

It was poetic how she handled herself, how she drove, how she lived. Beautiful poetry. Vivd, deep and meaningful to those lucky enough to witness it.

I watched her stand up to guys that had cars far more powerful and maneuverable than her. And still come out ahead. Why?
Had she lacked the fear that plagues us all? Fear of death? No. That fear was greater in her, than in anyone else I've known.

One night, doing many times over the speed limit in upper New Jersey, she told me.

"I'm dying... Much faster than you. Or at least I hope so. For the first time in my life, I'm actually afraid."
"If you're afraid, then I'm much more afraid. Because you aren't afraid of anything. You're strong though. Much stronger than
anybody I've met. And smart as well. You can't go wrong either way."
"You are so naive sometimes."

It made sense, in an odd way. I didn't realize it at first.

She called me one night, quite late. She said she needed something, and that I should come up to meet her at New Paltz. It was a long drive, but I was willing to do it. Why? I guess it was because I felt urgency in it.

We in a parking lot next to the southbound Interstate. Me, in my beat up 92' Honda. Her in her amazing, new X5.

"Follow. And try and keep up, if you can... And Phil... Watch your back okay?"

That night we raced, and I pushed my car faster than I ever have and ever will again. I far exceeded it's recommended limits, the state's recommended limits, my life's recommended limits. Instead of letting the adrenaline take over my mind, I listened to piano sonatas, and mulled over existentialism.

Our paths intertwined all over that Interstate, flying at incredible speeds. So close to death and yet so alive. Unbelievably alive. Weaving in and out of unsuspecting road warriors, people stuck in monotone.

I was freed from the bounds of being afraid of death. I accepted my life for what it was. I accepted what little time I have, what little time we all have. We continued until I reached my home, almost over two hours.

We stopped in a field on the side of the road. We sat on the hood of her car. She hugged me.

"Thank you, Old friend. I feel like someone finally understands me. All I hear is how sorry everyone is. I wanted to live, that's all. And I have. Thank you for being my companion in that, thank you for risking your life all of those times. Thank you for everything."

I said this to her, and I'll say it again.

"Thank you Alex. Thank you for showing me that living like there is no tomorrow, really is so much better. Really is an amazing feeling. Thank you for not giving up hope, not until the very end. Thank you for being who you are. Thank you for this trip, especially. And I'll miss you, deeply old friend."

She had an art out of living, out of savoring coming close, but missing. Savoring the terribly good luck that we all suffer from.

For Alex, never let moments slip away. Live, because you can and she can't.

I'll miss you. We all will.

Until we meet again, old friend.

White

I lie back in your kitchen chair. It creaks from my weight, as I lean onto it's aluminum legs.
The sun is shining through your dusty window. The room is bright with whitewashed walls.
And you glimmer in your white dress. This white world is blinding me, but I remain blissful.
Your eyes reflect the bright light into mine. Destroying my thoughts and erasing my memory,
with pure beauty.

I sit motionless, staring at you as you smile back at me. You love your power over me,
you love my defenselessness. I can't help but love it too... I can't help but love you.
Your long hair moves as you slide open the dingy window. The light intensifies,
until you turn from white to shimmering golden.

Your smooth skin beckons my touch, and I cannot resist the urge. And arise from my chair,
in one swift motion you are in my arms. Our lips dancing to the serenade of the moment.
Something inside me, somewhere tells me that it's okay. The eternal sunshine of my spotless
mind, that's what you are. That's what you'll always be.

Who am I? I don't care. Where am I? I don't care. Why am I here? Even in my deep amnesia
I know. My fingers touch my reason for being here, my lips touch her too. I can't help
but lose myself in you.

"My greatest apologies madam. But who am I?"
"You are mine, and that's all you need to know."

You move out of my embrace, and spin yourself around. Your dress spins up, and so
does your hair. You pause for a moment, and everything begins to spin. In my head,
in my eyes. My world spins around me.

I fall onto your cold white tile floor. My body is deeply numb. You run to me,
and start to scream. But I can't help but smile, and touch your face one last time.

"What is better than love's bliss in death? Surely nothing."

Everything fades to white, and then to black.

"If there is ever an image I want burned into my eyelids, into my timeless memory, the last image I'll ever see, it is of your face. You are too beautiful for words. Too beautiful for me."

deaf

I've always dreamt in silence.

I've always wished the world had a mute button.

Hidden on this universal remote.

But not for the sounds of the crashing ocean,
The sounds of moving cars,
The sounds of trees bristling in the wind,
Nor of animals calling.

Just the voices of all of the people.

I never want to hear my name called again,
Never want to hear the chitter chatter of the worlds inhabitants.
Never want to fucking touch another person.
Or see their emotions dripping off their face.
I know I'll be able to alienate myself when I'm deaf of your sounds.

I'll never have to worry about broken understanding
Never have to hear your voice call out to me again.
Never never never.

I don't want this man I'm attached to,
All I've ever wanted to be,
Was cold and unaffected.

Naked

No One has returned for a guest article.

I've come to an epiphany. I've come to a great realization.
I've found out something I've known all along. I just had
to make it official and real.

The truth is, it's unbelievable how much we toy with our imaginations.
People who understand this are so much better off than people who try
to hide it.

Mostly because, there is only so long you can hold something like that in.
Without showing cracks of what's actually going on in your head.
Open your windows would you? Let some light into that dusty imagination.

Imagine everyone naked, it's much more entertaining on a day to day basis,
and it'll help you feel more comfortable around new people.

Never forget, that we're all sluts and fucks. Even if it's only in our heads.
When has that never counted? Embrace it within reason, and you could never be wrong.

Break down those walls, and shake your butts. Why not after all?
What have you got to lose? A reputation? In the end,
Life's short, and sweet if you know what rocks to look under.

I've spent too much time mulling over my projected image as a person, and not enough time doing things.
Don't make the same mistake.

After all, what have you got to lose if everybody is already naked? ;)

Food for thought I guess.

i guess i've sealed my own fate.

karma has a funny way of coming full circle eventually.

maybe i'm being vain.

i can't help but think i do deserve it.

maybe i've forgotten why.

it'll come to me eventually.

fade from your life

all those sleepless hours,
laying in bed,
have got you no where.

your ideas are all trapped in your head.
with no place to go,
but into tainted oblivion.

take another swig baby,
and let those bad memories
fade from your third eye.

let them flow out,
like blood from a sliced vein,
splashing out onto paper,
leaving deep red stains,

take another swig baby,
maybe they'll finally find their way
to your fingertips.

you think you're made of steel
when you're really made of glass

they can't see you like i do,
they are all trapped in their own metaphor
scratching on the glass of the windows to their heads

wishing somebody would take a peek
or a picture

take another swig baby,
and let those bad memories,
fade from your dreams

fade from your life

games

the world plays games.
it's a little known fact,
but a heavily experienced one.

should you give up hope?
not in the least.
just give up hoping for what you hope for.

hope for that which you will never have,
and obtain what you wanted all along.

maybe i'm crazy,
but lucky too.
lucky to be unlucky.

i enjoy the ironic game i play.
i guess i'm shooting for an impossible score.
or maybe i'll get just what i'm after, after all.

Outlines

I can still see your eyes through the hair in front of your face. The beautiful windows into your mind, that I could lose myself in without even realizing it.
The skin on your shoulders is soft and smooth. My fingers dance along your body, hugging your curves, accenting your beauty with an outline.
Your hair falls away and exposes your cheek. My lips find their way to your face. Slowly caressing your neck and along your shoulders.
"There are too many places to kiss, and I've only got one pair of lips." I quietly whisper in your ear. My lips find their way to yours. They are luscious and full.
Your beauty is deadly. My fingers run along your neck, down your shoulder, slipping off one of your spaghetti straps as they travel. "Hi there." You sultrily say.
"Hello beautiful." I reply.
Lovers we remain, in the simplicity of the moment. You cause the world to stop,
with just the raise of your hand.
I cannot help but want to touch every inch of your body.

My alarm clock always steals away these incredible dreams.

Sullen Boy

I open my eyes to the sight of my own ceiling. My cell phones happy alarm chime mocks me. It's chime always yanks me from this place, I'd never like to leave.
Dream or otherwise. I kick off my blankets, and swing over to the side of my bed. I place my glasses upon my face, and the world around me comes into focus.
My room is messy. Shoes strewn about the floor around my bed. Cables hanging everywhere. Clothes littering the ground. My apathy towards this local cleanliness
has never benefited me. But it's kept unnecessary stress from me. At least that's my justification. The ground is cold on my bare feet, despite the summer heat that had crept
into my room during the night. I enter my bright bathroom, my eyes ache. Still not accustomed to this world again. As I brush my teeth, I'm still running the images through my mind.
I open the maple wardrobe in my corner to pick something to wear. My face stares back at me in the mirror.

I slip on some clothes and walk up the iron spiral staircase. Light from the morning sun penetrates the windows of the main floor. The mahogany colored walls covered with
pictures of my past. They remind me of the family I used to have, before everything changed. I pour myself a bowl of Cheerios, and open the fridge. A tiny bit of milk remains,
possibly just enough for that small bowl. I finish my cereal, and place the bowl into the almost full sink. I check myself once more in my mirror, and then exit my home. My dark blue
car waits for me patiently. I open the door, and get in. The ecstasy of my dream visits me once more, and I pause for a moment. Just trying to remember what I'm doing in here.
Driving to work. Right. My car starts up happily, just like every other morning.

The road is a place where I truly feel like I belong. The anonymity and irrelevance is incredibly freeing. I spend hours in my car, but I don't dread the trip. I enjoy it.
My arrival at work, is awkward and slow. As it usually is. I walk with my head down to avoid having to say hello to my co-workers. My shyness has always kept me safe
from moments like that in the past. My workday drags a long, monotonously, as each day does.

I leave the building, and look up into the vast sky. It is a deep gray. Moisture looms in the air, clinging to my skin. My limbs feel heavy on my slow walk back to my car.
My car returns to life happily. I slide it into reverse, and pull out of my parking spot. My car rolls forward, and away I go.

My car quickly accelerates onto the highway. Immediately I'm immersed in the music coming out of my car's stereo. It covers me, covers my skin, wraps my body in a blanket
of vibration. Goosebumps form on my arms as the adrenaline of the moment captures me. Courses through my veins. Circulating through my body with extreme speed.

The purple and red dashboard lights of my car blur as I lose myself. I breathe deeply, slowly. Forgetting about my monotone job, my monotone apartment, my monotone life.

I open my eyes, slowly. Warm liquid flows down my face, covering my clothes, covering my body. Immersing me, it it's waning usefulness. That's okay, I think to myself.
I don't need you anymore anyway. The cold steel crushes the life from me. My lungs cannot take this great weight upon my body. Finally, a worthy metaphor.

Through the red veil over my eyes, I peer up through my cracked sunroof. The sun shines through. It's warmth reminds me of the beautiful world above my head.
I'll miss that warmth.

Relax

Look up when you walk
Because there is so much to see above our heads
So much to get lost in

We're always so wrapped up in our lives
Sometimes we forget to step back
And enjoy the sky

Look up when it rains
Let the rain drops roll down your face
Smear your make up
Melt off your mask

We're always so wrapped up in our lives
Sometimes we forget to step back
And enjoy the sky

Let it take you away
Far far away
Just for a moment or two
Relax

Costume

All of those people stepping into freedom
With masks and fabric and paint
Hiding themselves, or are they?
Showing the world they aren't afraid
To pretend and imagine
To laugh and be themselves
It's here personalities flourish
It's here inhibitions lie discarded on the floor
It's wonderful here

It shouldn't have to end so early
Life should always be this way

Maybe it can be

You shouldn't be afraid anymore

I'm in here.

The humid air feels like sludge wrapped around my body.
It feels thick in my lungs. Sweat clings to my eyebrows as I peer up into the bright day.
The sun is on it's decent from the sky, after a long day of feeding plants and burning skin.
I wipe my forehead, and step down from my front porch. My brown leather sandals crunch
as I walk on the cracked old sidewalk. The plants on my block are flourishing in the rich summer.
They're beautiful, comforting and serene. They remind me just how beautiful silence is.

A small silver car drives past me on my block. I've always loved the way cars make that
whoosh sound as they pass by. It reminds me of growing up. Sometimes I would sneak
out after my parents had fallen asleep. I would walk down to the interstate. I would use
the hole in the fence, right by the yellow pedestrian sign. I would sit in the cool grass
by that road. And I would watch and listen. Whoosh.

My block is one of those stereotypical small town blocks. Cars passing through are seldom,
due to the fact we we're adjacent to a main street. My blonde haired neighbor smiles and waves.
I muster a feeble smile back. I think about when I first moved here. My mom saying "That woman
looks like she's drugged up on something." I remember the way my room smelled when I first
moved in. I remember feeling so much like I didn't belong. I remember my long walks alone,
late at night. Smoking cigarettes, and befriending the darkness of the night. I remember
the streetlight that I would sit under, near the abandoned building. The way it blinked, on those
cool nights.

Even though the day is almost over. The night has yet to come. I look forward to the night.
It's my safe haven. Somewhere I've always sought refuge from the events of the day. I cross
the torn up street and walk under the cement underpass. The cool shade it brings feels good.
A man in a orange reflective vest salutes me as I walk through the construction site. I salute
him back. Finally a greeting I can return without feeling awkward. The pieces of the destroyed
building litter the yard. Like a battle scarred solider, the building still stands in part. Refusing
to succumb to the efforts of the tireless workers assigned to destroy it.

I enjoy the poetry and simplicity of this scene as I move through it. At the edge of the construction
site there is a small fence. I remove my sandals and throw them over it. I scale the fence with ease,
despite my feet being unshielded. I slip my old sandals back onto my now dirty feet. I walk through
the lush green grass. The blades of grass tickle my dirty feet. The sun now golden orange, begins to
fade into the horizon. Light collapsing into the earth, to bide until the moon takes it's rightful place
high in the sky. I part the low hanging branches of the weeping willow, and enter the amazing
room it creates. The golden light of the sun barely penetrates this beautiful place. But just enough
to remind me that the sun is still there. Looking for me, wondering where I escaped to.

The boughs of the willow are thick, leafy and green. They keep the room they shield a secret.
My secret. My sanctuary. The room is lined with the vivid pink pedals from the willow. Like fallen
children they lay, their time has come and passed. The cool air wraps around me like a blanket,
cleaning off the sludge of humidity. I walk deeper towards the center of this great keep. I run my
fingers down the rough bark of the willow. I lean against it's trunk, and slide to the ground.
My sandals fall from my feet, and onto the dirt. The ground feels cool against my body,
as I am cradled by the tree. A breeze lightly blows the branches of the willow, their light conversation
lulls me to sleep.

My dreams are sometimes more vivid than reality. Sometimes I am trapped under great weight.
Sometimes I am attacked by poisonous beings, trying to still the life I hold on to. Sometimes
I am falling. From great heights, hurtling towards death with unimaginable speed. Sometimes I
don't dream. I cherish those moments of limbo. Those moments of blankness keep me safe. But my
dreams in this place are not terror, or fear. They are not death or loss. They are of my warm bed
during the winter. They are of my family and friends. I cherish these dreams more than my blank
lonely ones. They are of my dreams, they are of my acceptance of life.

I awaken to the same lullaby that I fell asleep to. The light bristling of the branches in the breeze.
There is very little light left under the willow. It has changed from golden orange to the deep blue
before nightfall. I feel refreshed, I feel reenergized, I feel alive again. I slip my sandals back onto my
dirty feet. I stand and feel the blood flow through my body. I spend a moment, and breath deeply.
"Good bye." I whisper, for no one but my keep to hear. I part the branches in the same place I entered.
I step out of my keep.

I turn for just a moment, looking at the great Willow one last time. This will be the last time I will
visit my sanctuary. The last time I will dream peacefully, knowing that I'm sheltered by the willow.
I'm reminded of when I moved from my first house. I'm reminded of the way I cried, and pleaded
with my parents to stay. I'm reminded of the way I still visit that place, because I know I left a piece
of myself there. That's just the way I am. I know I'll miss it.

The grass tickles my dirty feet the same way as before. The humidity has depleted from the air,
it is more comfortable than before. I hear something from inside the willow. I turn around quickly,
afraid at first. Then calm. Staring back at me, is myself. Just a shadow really, except for my eyes.

"Hey." I say, and salute.
I salute back, and nod.
"I'm in here." I say.
"I know." I reply.
"I'll miss you, dude." I say.
"I'll miss you too. Be good." I reply.
"You too. Don't forget, Okay?" I say.
"Ok." I reply.

I watch as the outline of my eyes fade back behind the branches. I turn back towards the chain link fence.
It's clinking and clanking is friendly in the falling light. The battlefield is quiet, it's combatants home with
their families. Done for today. The building has survived another day. I salute the building, in honor of my
own metaphor. The tunnel of the overpass is dark in the evening light. I walk slower through it to avoid
tripping on anything.

My stereotypical small town block is just as I left it. The houses have their living room lights on. Families
eating dinner together, talking about their days. What they did, how they feel. Eating the spaghetti
and meatballs, american style. Small town style. My brown leather sandals crunch on the old sidewalk.
A sidewalk traveled by many, but one that I would never travel again. I reach my front path quickly,
even though I was savoring my walk home. Tomorrow I'll leave, and never plan to come back. I'm happy
to move on though. I'm happy that I'll be able to make new memories, and find a new sanctuary.

But I'm never going to forget that one. Never going to forget the piece of myself that I left there.
"I'm in here."

I am slanted.

And you are too.
As the facts of life are about true, then we're all a little bit slanted.
We've all got that deep dark side.

It's naivety to believe that anybody is pure.
The molten hot seam between the two is incredible.

Too many people dance upon that seam, trying to find a balance.

And others, fall victim to each of it's sides. Both equally deplorable in full.


W'y c'n't a'y'o'e r'a'l'z'e.
You don't need to exist in the realm of constants.
You don't need to be pulled in between sides.
Torn apart, down the very middle.
You can just be you, and that's all you'll ever have to worry about.