These New Things - 11/06/15

How many years when I
Stopped believing it was all for me
Lost faith in myself
Gave up on finding dreams
Hard to say
Hard to see
Hard to be
Feels like drifting through sea of faith
And all I see is faith
Faith in what I see
Where did all that freedom go
All I had to do was reach

Green - 06/20/15

If I really look inside myself
If I really stir up my guts
If I really take my heart in fist
If I really bleed it dry
If I really search for truth
For happiness
For clarity
I think I'll find
It's always somewhere else

The Hopeful Hound - 06/20/15

I watched the dog
Through the chain-link fence I saw
His paws hinged at the patio stair
He watched me
He cocked his head in brief intervals
Saying nothing
I wondered
What do you believe in
What do you see
What is it you feel
When you're looking through the chain-link fence at me
A car from nowhere slides into the drive
And the master creature walks
And the dog bounces to attention
The master, up the deck past the dog
The dog, to the master at the door
Master, through the door
Dog, to the patio stair
Looking through the chain-link fence at me

Ambition - 05/23/15

It wakes me in the morning
Convinces me to rise from bed
Seems to offer some reward
If I give into it
But as I slog and grind and slave
Through the pressures of the day
It wanes and withers sad and slow
Never seems to stay
But as I crawl to sleep at night
It welcomes me again
Soars high and proud and says to me:
You've missed your shot
Such poor luck
But I'll be back tomorrow
You whiny lazy fuck
My ambition is a preteen erection
And it's a fleeting piece of shit.

Almost Memories - 05/21/15

Everyone's got theories
About such and such and more
But I can't see them being worth
The scraps they're scribbled on
And everyone's unhappy
And everyone's afraid
They cram it all up deep inside
But they just keep shakin it
Till they find it's leaked out on the floor
But the thing about the dead is
They've learned just not to care
They see we're re lost and finished
And they're too polite to share.

Project - 04/05/15

Who to be
Don't even know who it is
that I even want to see
Oh, where to start
How the hell do I tell if
I'm a project worth the thought

Reddit Writing Prompt - 2/20/15

(Prompt: Everything is naturally monochrome. Color is obtained through finding and harvesting rainbows.)

I remember the first time my parents described color to me.

I was fascinated. In the days following I spent a lot of time testing the limits of my imagination, trying to see things in red and blue and green and yellow. I couldn't. Instead I culled images of fantastic beasts who shone bright lights and donned the darkest armor.

Ours was a small community, numbering maybe half a hundred. I was told we were somewhere on the edge of North America. I had never seen a map, and had no awareness of my location relative to anything else. I was born and raised in Seventeen. I was the only one though.

Everyone who lived there came from somewhere else, but they rarely spoke of it. Not near me anyway.  There were some who lived on the wall who would not talk to us. They dressed differently, with heavy boots and immaculate pants and jackets. Sometimes they would point their long-barreled guns at one of the community, but I can't remember them ever firing. My parents told me that as long as everyone did their work, the Others wouldn't bother us. I remember the constant feeling of being kept in the dark of my elders' past lives. I couldn't fathom the depths of their secrecy.

I was nine when everything changed. 

Deep into the night, there was a loud explosion, and then another, and three or four more. My parents were in the cots on either side of me and they both came to me. They led me to the back of the building, with the rest of Seventeen. No one spoke above a whisper. I was a little scared, but mostly I was confused and curious. I had never heard a sound as such. I remember wondering if perhaps I was about to experience color. 

Through a foggy window, I saw dozens of men come storming through giant holes in giant gray walls I had scarce imagined not being there. Then I heard what I knew to be gunfire. Some of the people who had poured through the fence were falling to the ground, and the rest were ducking, diving, firing. Through the commotion I remember the sickening thud of Others falling from their towers to dirt below.

We huddled together for what felt like days.

Everything was silent. The night was bitter cool and dark. The door to our sleeping quarters opened and a handful of men burst through, their guns raised as they swept toward us.

Several of the community began to rise. Most of them were crying. Some of them were saying thank you. My parents held me tight. I could feel the warm tears from my mother's eyes as they trailed down my own face. 

One of the men threw his gun to a cot and came to me. He knelt to me, and I could see he was holding back tears.

"We've come to rescue you," he said. "I am so, so sorry."

Reddit Writing Prompt - 2/10/15

(Prompt: Whenever you wake up from a dream, it destroys an entire alternate universe within your head. Describe the brief life of a person living in a dream.)

It's strange.

We have voices, I know that. I've heard the others calling out to Him. We speak the same language - at least most of us. I can always understand them. Even I have caught myself beckoning Him before. I don't know why, but somehow it seems the thing to do. Like asking why you breathe or think or swallow your spit or scratch your neck. You just do. So why, then, have we never talked to each other?

I've never seen them. I don't know where they are and I don't know where they go. Where I am, where I go. It's so easy to count myself apart, but I seem to operate by the same faculties as them.

There are gaps. There seems to be an almost predictable cycle to our existence, whatever that may consist of. I find myself here, waiting next to this door every cycle. Something in me urges me to wail to what I'm sure is our master: The Decider, the Chooser, the Brain. He is the one who delivers us. I try to resist, but often I blow out my lungs vying to be called. This goes on for what feels a short amount of time, but then I blink. And when I open my eyes again, I know the process has started over. Every time the same.

Shout, eyes close, eyes open, shout, eyes close, eyes open, shout, eyes close, eyes open shout, eyes close, eyes open shout, eyes close,

Eyes open: I hear a low din on the other side of the door - something I know to be music. I've never heard this before. I make to approach the door but find myself unable to move. I've never felt this before. I wait. Beg my eyes to see something I haven't seen before, but it's the same door, same dim light, same dirty window, same unending black casting itself over everything, or nothing, else. I wait.

The music stops. The unmistakable sound of breaking glass. Tables legs scratch at the floor. A monstrous roar.

I don't understand, but the roar undoubtedly came from my own self. I attempt to move again and stumble forward when I find I'm able. I hit the door and it swings forward. A sea of eyes and noses and mouths all focus on me. They are multi-colored and stuck together with little care. Some of them are humanoid and horribly distorted; their skin drips and stretches, eyes bulging and melting at the same time. Others have forty legs and seventy eyes with pincers and sharp teeth; some with tentacles and horns and mouths too big for what serves as a face; and more yet with patches of fur, massive arms, and so many wings. And there are more besides.

They are all laughing.

Towards the center of the room I see a man. He is hardly five feet small and seems to shrink as I approach him. With the light now behind me, my shadow begins to cast over him. I had never considered my own form, but faced with the evidence, I am forced to conclude I am vile. I am huge - so much larger than I had ever imagined - and there are many pronged antlers protruding from a very blockish head. I seem to have some sort of snout, though it's hard for me to be sure. I have at least three arms on either side of my scaled body, and the bulkiest legs I've ever set eyes on. My, do I have a lot of eyes.

I'm compelled to continue my approach. The shaking, desperate man seems to sense me, or perhaps has noticed that my shade has overtaken him. He swivels and faces me. His face turns to horror and his jaw nearly unhinges as he makes to howl his fear. No sound escapes his maw.

I advance on the still shrinking man. My arms are rising and there is steam - real, hot steam - pouring from my nostrils. I am filling with rage and fury. He is filling with dread and panic. He turns about again to run from me as I close the gap between us. He plants one foot in front of the other, his body shakes and sweats as he delivers everything he has to rid himself of me.

He hardly moves. I might think that I am somehow moving infinitely faster than him, but all the creatures like me who surround him move in time with me. He is slow. It's like watching a man wade through invisible custard.

I raise many of my hands to the air and swoop upon him. Even I am unclear of my intention. Eyes shut tight as my fist connects.

Eyes open. I am standing outside the door with the light and the dirty window. I shout to Him. I hope He selects me.