We were moving to a town, I suppose. I only recall breakfast in a strange hotel...or inn perhaps. The keeper had grown quite attached the the young couple she'd taken in so I'm assuming she had been telling us things about our new home all night.I wasn't eating, although there was a lovely breakfast before me. Something was bothering my stomach, something about these stories. We were moving into the old manor of a doctor from the 30's. Not only did we find it at an amazingly affordable price, but it was isolated with a small town not too far away and we were told it was still in amazing condition.
The path from town that led to our new home was short but it took us through a quarter mile of woods. As the woods fell behind us the path continued in a field-esque area and then more trees. The tall grass grew high above the dirt path then turned into tall trees once more. I told my significant other how amazing it was. So beautiful, even for fall. Before we knew it we were in front of a building.
"The lady at the Inn said that this place used to belong to the town doctor." he smiled widely at me and I felt the warmth in my face return it. We unlocked the door and ventured in.
The front hallway had a large stairwell that clearly led up to a hallway that immediately started at the top of the hallway, the walls were all a blank cream color, probably just from time and existing. Instead of wandering up I continued down the front hall to a small door past the stairwell. There was no ordinary handle, the door was a sliding door and it disappeared into the wall it sat so perfectly in. I screamed out to my husband that the kitchen door from the hallway was awesome and continued happily into the kitchen. I saw that it wasn't very well furnished, there was a large counter spread underneath cabinets on the right side, a large sink was at the end of it, looking large enough to put a whole turkey in for cleaning and plucking. There was also a central preparing island and in the corner on the opposite side a very nice wooden table. The varnish was slightly worn and there were four chairs tucked underneath it, the walk in pantry visible on the wall behind it, the door slightly the the right of where I assumed the doctor and his family dined. At this point I assumed my husband was trying to find the doctors quarters, the place he did all his work. From what we were told at the Inn, this man had been a great help for the local family for years and years. He was a kind man with an even kinder wife. I smiled at my new kitchen, staring out the windows and door to our great wooded surroundings. It seemed the house led straight back into a patch of woods, with nothing but trees all around a small semi circle of where the kitchen's outside door led. It seemed strange that people then were so apt to not clearing trees for backyard space, although I recalled thinking it wouldn't be that strange, seeing as there was plenty of field space near the front of the house. I turned and started examining the furniture. The cabinets were painted the same cream and they had panes of glass in them. No elegant designs, nothing special. I walked over and popped on open, with a literal pop the door opened and the old brass clip system was the reason why. I marveled at how well kept such an antique was, especially in a house older than the first three generation of my family. The brass even gleamed a little in the light peering from behind us. I closed it and kept walking around, at one point placing my hand on the center separate counter and running it along as I walked toward the pantry.I moved slowly and each bit of dust that collected on my fingertips felt like small pieces of glass shreading apart the very prints that resided there. I moved my hand up and caught a small speck of blood moving down my finger. Looking down at the counter I saw that there was nothing around that could have damaged my finger, unless it was the old dust itself. An unsettling feeling filled my stomach and I made my way toward the pantry door. The door was painted a bland blue that seemed faded but I was sure that was the color of the paint the day they smeared it on the wood. This door also slide open and I started to wonder if the kind doctor's wife had perhaps been too weak to open these thick doors, so he put them on a sliding system for her. I slide it open and walked in. The light from the windows didn't reach here. the room was very large but so dark I couldn't tell if it had shelving or was empty. I felt along the wall for a light switch just to be shocked by friction. I then considered a dangling light and went toward the middle of the room feeling high above me for some sort of rope or string attached to a light source. For a moment I questioned weather or not they had electricity, seeing as the windows I'd seen in the house were large and grand. The ceiling very high to accommodate those very same windows.
For some reason, standing there in the dark pantry, I stopped moving. Something in my head was telling me the story of a doctor who was not as kind as the one I'd been told about. No, it spoke of tortures I couldn't imagine. All that darkness...
"Well, you still have eyes. You can still see." I'm opening those said eyes and looked up to see my husband's face and had no memory of my eyes ever being in danger.
Saturday, August 31, 2013
Friday, August 23, 2013
Watashi
Watashi wa hoka no mono yori o taisetsu ni sodatta hito ga atta.
Watashi wa jinsoku ni mōichido soko kara ochita nochi,
koi ni ochita.
Kare wa,
watashi wa iku koto ga dekimasendeshita basho ni kieta.
Dakara watashi wa soko ni watashi no kimochi o akirameta,
to kibō o hōki shita. Aisuru hontōni watashi o mitsuketa tokorodesu.
Subete no mottomo odorokubeki koto wa,
watashi wa ā,
wasurete kanri shite itaga,
watashinoyume wa dakara ima kare no sonzai to yoku watashi o nayama se,
watashi wa chōdo watashi ga wasurete inakatta nā.
Sate, watashi wa kesshite akiramenakatta negai ga,
dōjini,
ai no sono ataide wa arimasen?
---
Smoke in the clear sky destroying clear eyes.
Pride peeled off and placed to drip dry.
When did you fall into this type of distress?
Well, sir I was just getting undressed.
Could you say 'stressed'?
---
Watashi wa jinsoku ni mōichido soko kara ochita nochi,
koi ni ochita.
Kare wa,
watashi wa iku koto ga dekimasendeshita basho ni kieta.
Dakara watashi wa soko ni watashi no kimochi o akirameta,
to kibō o hōki shita. Aisuru hontōni watashi o mitsuketa tokorodesu.
Subete no mottomo odorokubeki koto wa,
watashi wa ā,
wasurete kanri shite itaga,
watashinoyume wa dakara ima kare no sonzai to yoku watashi o nayama se,
watashi wa chōdo watashi ga wasurete inakatta nā.
Sate, watashi wa kesshite akiramenakatta negai ga,
dōjini,
ai no sono ataide wa arimasen?
---
Smoke in the clear sky destroying clear eyes.
Pride peeled off and placed to drip dry.
When did you fall into this type of distress?
Well, sir I was just getting undressed.
Could you say 'stressed'?
---
| 笑い |
Ā otoko!
Eyes are just windows you observe from.
Life's an oncoming car you swerve from,
left lane scattered brain contains the valued center sane.
Lame.
I thought the best part of the soul was the body,
a bit unrealistic seeing as those thoughts are awful haughty.
It's just a vessel for my controlled organism of a universal collision,
a vision that someday we all understand the mission.
---
Make word play a way to slay the patient's patience and make them watch what they say.
---
Blah.
Monday, August 19, 2013
PostNormal
The longer I sit alone in the morning, half naked under a robe of light cotten, I feel the skin I'm living in. I feel the way my heart beats through the bones and muscle on top the pallet of my chest plate reverberating into the clothing. I realize that I am terribly alive, and the things inside of me are slowly welling up and sucking out my pride. Everyday I wake up the same way, lingering around too long in one place. Letting the sensation of the sunlight confine me, although this morning the weather's looking awful grimey. This is my mantra of clearing my dread, write a few paragraphs here and properly empty my head. Sometimes it's relieving the feeling of just breathing. Sometimes the past revisits me in smells and the sounds that surround. But I'm new in this old skin of mine. I wonder what's going on inside. I consummated so many horrible things into one awful plague that now it shows up once or twice a day. Unless sedated, and normally I have the means to do so. But why delay the rate of my soul's decay? Now this is where the split peach hairstyle may as well be my brain. On one side there's a devil and the other an angel, both in an epic struggle to get what's in the middle. The consistency of this is starting to make me sick, physically and terribly ill mentally. I keep myself in a place in between, where I hardly smile and never scream, never seem anything but serene, or at least clean of the nightmares and cold stares. The sticky fingers webbing their way through my hair, down my spine and pluck my right inside my glare. It's there but it's not, just a re-occurring thought that someone else can do what I cannot. But even more so it's the guilt of the things she says to me, things that I know aren't true at all and tend to be an awful way to be.
For the last two weeks I've felt myself growing stronger rather than weak, but that's only when I manage to keep away what haunts me. Where am I right now? Stuck on 10 mgs of sanity and cold cup of coffee and not nearly enough cigarettes. Children are playing in their yards although it's early. School's back soon, I remember doing the same thing.
Why do I even write things here? Let everyone in on the fear that I'm losing what I thought I'd cleared. No, it's more for me to control what little is in my possession and attempt to learn from this lesson of this demonic obsession. Maybe it's me just holding back the things I hate and being in a constantly passive state? Or maybe I really do hate myself? Maybe I for a moment convinced myself I had some sort of self wealth? It's making my mind mushier as the words are sprawled out. I feel the fear of everyone knowing, but also the fear of being drowned by it. Healthy is a broad term, and I don't think I fit it. Then again if I were terrible why would anyone call me a 'friend'? Why would the one who loves me want to love me till the end?
Pfff, maybe my only problems are that I over think and my imagination just needs to calm the fuck down.
For the last two weeks I've felt myself growing stronger rather than weak, but that's only when I manage to keep away what haunts me. Where am I right now? Stuck on 10 mgs of sanity and cold cup of coffee and not nearly enough cigarettes. Children are playing in their yards although it's early. School's back soon, I remember doing the same thing.
Why do I even write things here? Let everyone in on the fear that I'm losing what I thought I'd cleared. No, it's more for me to control what little is in my possession and attempt to learn from this lesson of this demonic obsession. Maybe it's me just holding back the things I hate and being in a constantly passive state? Or maybe I really do hate myself? Maybe I for a moment convinced myself I had some sort of self wealth? It's making my mind mushier as the words are sprawled out. I feel the fear of everyone knowing, but also the fear of being drowned by it. Healthy is a broad term, and I don't think I fit it. Then again if I were terrible why would anyone call me a 'friend'? Why would the one who loves me want to love me till the end?
Pfff, maybe my only problems are that I over think and my imagination just needs to calm the fuck down.
Apparitions and Sullen Lullabies for the Patron.
Night watch the breathing and the eyes locked in dreaming,
your emotions are teeming through your bloodline and your feelings.
Believing there is something there is just a deception,
verbal aggression can contain only a fragment of this lesson.
Where'd the clear skies and rainbows wander off to?
All I see are shady grays and cloudy shades of blue.
The second step you take is the second level of mistake,
your subconscious will haunt you sometimes even when you're awake.
The air is cold,
you feel it,
the devil's hold is made of pure wit.
The wind picks up, your muscles constrict a bit just to believe it.
Now it's cold snow,
your dress is cut a bit low,
the leather from the winter boots scratch from the knee tip to the toe.
There's trees, but they are barren.
There's hope, it's what you're wearing,
a small silver locket with a lock you can't keep from staring,
it burns into your skin so hot you've found yourself slightly swearing.
Now your feet have made the motions through the trees still slightly frozen,
your eyes fill up with tears but you don't feel fear cause nothing's here.
Or is there nothing here?
Are you running from what's near?
Or are you trying to find a place where you can finally disappear?
There's a clearing up ahead that guarantees understanding of the where, who and when.
Now it's all grass and sunshine,
but the coldness still lingers.
You move to turn around but then your shoulder meets cold fingers.
---
Canvas skin bare and highlighted.
Porcelain, inspected then indited.
Given to the finest artist to paint away on.
She's your ultimate piece of paper,
she's the singer of your favorite song.
Now sing along,
smear upon the skin a solid sun tan,
bright pink tulips bursting up from piles of sand.
Now sullen the colors,
except for the eyes,
make them sparkle like diamonds held in infinitely sunny skies.
The lips must be made to daydream upon,
a lingering color for them to lean on,
lust after and feed on.
----
I had a message but someone already read it.
---
Nightmares of kind stares and smiles seem to taunt me.
Reality is a steep slope, you'd better be wary of an off knee.
Off key,
a melody is sedated and played in a way the darkness couldn't be debated,
the songstress has turned into the mess she once stated.
Variations in the vocals make you sleepy,
you force your eyes open but now you're sleeping deeply.
---
gughughioudiguosfjlsdjfskdfj
your emotions are teeming through your bloodline and your feelings.
Believing there is something there is just a deception,
verbal aggression can contain only a fragment of this lesson.
Where'd the clear skies and rainbows wander off to?
All I see are shady grays and cloudy shades of blue.
The second step you take is the second level of mistake,
your subconscious will haunt you sometimes even when you're awake.
The air is cold,
you feel it,
the devil's hold is made of pure wit.
The wind picks up, your muscles constrict a bit just to believe it.
Now it's cold snow,
your dress is cut a bit low,
the leather from the winter boots scratch from the knee tip to the toe.
There's trees, but they are barren.
There's hope, it's what you're wearing,
a small silver locket with a lock you can't keep from staring,
it burns into your skin so hot you've found yourself slightly swearing.
Now your feet have made the motions through the trees still slightly frozen,
your eyes fill up with tears but you don't feel fear cause nothing's here.
Or is there nothing here?
Are you running from what's near?
Or are you trying to find a place where you can finally disappear?
There's a clearing up ahead that guarantees understanding of the where, who and when.
Now it's all grass and sunshine,
but the coldness still lingers.
You move to turn around but then your shoulder meets cold fingers.
---
Canvas skin bare and highlighted.
Porcelain, inspected then indited.
Given to the finest artist to paint away on.
She's your ultimate piece of paper,
she's the singer of your favorite song.
Now sing along,
smear upon the skin a solid sun tan,
bright pink tulips bursting up from piles of sand.
Now sullen the colors,
except for the eyes,
make them sparkle like diamonds held in infinitely sunny skies.
The lips must be made to daydream upon,
a lingering color for them to lean on,
lust after and feed on.
----
I had a message but someone already read it.
---
Nightmares of kind stares and smiles seem to taunt me.
Reality is a steep slope, you'd better be wary of an off knee.
Off key,
a melody is sedated and played in a way the darkness couldn't be debated,
the songstress has turned into the mess she once stated.
Variations in the vocals make you sleepy,
you force your eyes open but now you're sleeping deeply.
---
gughughioudiguosfjlsdjfskdfj
Sunday, August 18, 2013
Vivid
Scarred scarlet droplets on the white paint coated carpet,
sticking with the story of "I'm sorry, I just dropped it."
Plopped my self down to allow the anger to drown what was left of my frown.
Her hungry eyes linger on my face,
I wonder if this is the beginning or just the middle of this awful game of chase.
There's no place to hide, no place to erase or replace the pride.
Not a single word was said once her fingertips touched my head,
just a smile with a bit of greed lingering, like the crusty old bits on a stale slice of bread.
Fingering my thick hair she whispered:
"You can run from me,
please I love it when you do,
but you are still a part of me and I'm very much a part of you."
Lips curled up into a triumphant smile,
as if the message was stated simply to defile my mental tiles.
Ripped out all the jewelry boxes and cabinets filled with files,
of my life,
my problems,
my tribulations and my trials.
Gems littered the floor with a gleam and a glimmer,
the staunchness of the paper made my sanity feel slimmer.
Her gentle strokes turned to a clutch,
I froze suddenly before I took the touch.
Why so gentle?
Why this time?
Her slurred verbal music started to rhyme.
I watched her comb through my hair and turn her back from me,
like she would set me free,
like this was the beginning of what was meant to be.
But to my torment she turned to face me once again,
bowed her head so low I saw the skin peeling away from the demon who claimed she was a friend.
Stood up,
shook up,
now I've got the guts to stop the rut and get the fuck out of wherever this creature has brought me after I'd been plucked.
But those eyes put me back down,
once again returned my frown,
now she's eyeing the bottle in her hand like it's gonna save her from this town.
"You can't save me and you can't save yourself."
She spat in acid tongue.
"I want you to remember I'm your number: only one"
----
Silver slowly consuming the skin,
her fragrance is of acetone,
her vocals are of sin.
"Will you let me in?"
The sultry silky demon with gold eyes,
many men were told to avoid her,
and women especially but only if they were wise.
Vanity consumed her like a mirror liquefied,
now her essence is in emerald and the beauty's locked inside.
Cobalt blue attitude pushed the sliding doors open and she stepped into the room.
BOOM.
All eyes moved to the crimson as it crawled across the floor,
limply it followed it's patron, the burning angel it adored.
A cup enters her hand,
the hostess's legs have turned to sand,
she wobbles backward and ponders what will happen when she sips.
With upturned pupils, tilts her head back and lets the liquid soak her lips.
"This."
Silence erupted in it's most unfashionable manner.
One by one I watched each person get up and leave the manor.
Before I had the strength to move my steel legs,
we made eye contact although she was so far away,
across the room,
but the feelings she omits sits inside and steadies you till you stay,
consumed.
"Ruins, that's all I see here."
Placed her half finished drink upon the table,
then made her way out the door without a noise and completely disappeared.
----
sticking with the story of "I'm sorry, I just dropped it."
Plopped my self down to allow the anger to drown what was left of my frown.
Her hungry eyes linger on my face,
I wonder if this is the beginning or just the middle of this awful game of chase.
There's no place to hide, no place to erase or replace the pride.
Not a single word was said once her fingertips touched my head,
just a smile with a bit of greed lingering, like the crusty old bits on a stale slice of bread.
Fingering my thick hair she whispered:
"You can run from me,
please I love it when you do,
but you are still a part of me and I'm very much a part of you."
Lips curled up into a triumphant smile,
as if the message was stated simply to defile my mental tiles.
Ripped out all the jewelry boxes and cabinets filled with files,
of my life,
my problems,
my tribulations and my trials.
Gems littered the floor with a gleam and a glimmer,
the staunchness of the paper made my sanity feel slimmer.
Her gentle strokes turned to a clutch,
I froze suddenly before I took the touch.
Why so gentle?
Why this time?
Her slurred verbal music started to rhyme.
I watched her comb through my hair and turn her back from me,
like she would set me free,
like this was the beginning of what was meant to be.
But to my torment she turned to face me once again,
bowed her head so low I saw the skin peeling away from the demon who claimed she was a friend.
Stood up,
shook up,
now I've got the guts to stop the rut and get the fuck out of wherever this creature has brought me after I'd been plucked.
But those eyes put me back down,
once again returned my frown,
now she's eyeing the bottle in her hand like it's gonna save her from this town.
"You can't save me and you can't save yourself."
She spat in acid tongue.
"I want you to remember I'm your number: only one"
----
Silver slowly consuming the skin,
her fragrance is of acetone,
her vocals are of sin.
"Will you let me in?"
The sultry silky demon with gold eyes,
many men were told to avoid her,
and women especially but only if they were wise.
Vanity consumed her like a mirror liquefied,
now her essence is in emerald and the beauty's locked inside.
Cobalt blue attitude pushed the sliding doors open and she stepped into the room.
BOOM.
All eyes moved to the crimson as it crawled across the floor,
limply it followed it's patron, the burning angel it adored.
A cup enters her hand,
the hostess's legs have turned to sand,
she wobbles backward and ponders what will happen when she sips.
With upturned pupils, tilts her head back and lets the liquid soak her lips.
"This."
Silence erupted in it's most unfashionable manner.
One by one I watched each person get up and leave the manor.
Before I had the strength to move my steel legs,
we made eye contact although she was so far away,
across the room,
but the feelings she omits sits inside and steadies you till you stay,
consumed.
"Ruins, that's all I see here."
Placed her half finished drink upon the table,
then made her way out the door without a noise and completely disappeared.
----
Wednesday, August 14, 2013
Pointless
Stubby gold fingers licking dry turkey dinner lingers,
pig like snouts informing us of the drought.
Let me reverberate the malcontent and murder rate,
learn which state is which and enter a national debate.
Hahaha,
gotcha, fooled you with stupidity.
Sorry, I'm just lost in the arts of pure lucidity.
I can't be me,
no she's a danger,
VIOLENT DANGER,
a stranger looking to ruin the manger!
But at one time she was a dime and a nickle.
She was the vinegar that made the best pickles.
Fickle maybe, but no person could slay me.
I verbally abused and used their anger to obey me.
Sick sorry demon stuck the good kid in her pocket,
told the little bitch not to squirm or she'd gladly stop it.
Until the little girl got strong and crawled up to her earlobe.
whispered sweet goodbyes then roughly began to probe.
Deeper and deeper she managed to find the spot,
to bring the end of this demon reign and be the one on top.
Snapped off and broken,
the entity got red and swollen.
It's the end of it all,
it's the end of me,
Sorry to all of those that I didn't let run free.
I wish that I was angrier but I cannot be.
Now I'm just the pocket dwelling little tiny me.
-----
Trying to understand what happens in a brain controlled by two entities is difficult work. You have to learn both but at the same time keep your distance from the one that wishes to destroy. Not only you, no, everything and everyone around you. Little spurts of unwarranted anger stick out like sore thumbs. People start to believe your crazy, and goddamnit you know you're crazy. But why express that in any way? Why tell people about what's going on inside that "pretty little head of yours" ?(go stuff it, by the way) There's no reason to sound the alarms when you've been coping with it all by yourself. NOW! AREN'T YOU THE BIG GIRL, TOUGH AND DEALING WITH IT ALL BY YOURSELF! I wish I were a big girl. Most days I feel like a small bug, creeping along and silently existing alongside others that would much rather see me exterminated or taken care of in any grotesque yet acceptable way. Then again there are so many people who flounder at me. They think I'm the nicest person they've met and tell everyone I'm good. Yet my soul feels so bad. THERE'S NO WAY YOUR CRAZY. YOU'RE THE NICEST PERSON I KNOW! Yeah, well, nicest doesn't always mean so. Then again it's not like I don't work hard to keep her at bay, god FORBID I let her get a hold of the steering wheel, I'd be done for good. She's angry this time and she's in it for the win. Every moment of weakness I show is a grab at the gold for her. So, like I earlier stated how could someone understand what it's like to battle with yourself every day for control of the things you say and do. Especially when everything that is said and done will be reflected upon you and only you. Not you and the other you, HAHA, because there really is no other you. It's a figment that is dominating your consciousness. It's a clutter of subconscious anger trying to pry open your cognitive thought and control it to release the welled up infatuation. Many people pick up hobbies or little mantras they perform to control these things. They eat different foods, sleep earlier, keep journals, work out, take yoga lessons, clip coupons, whatever pleases their fancy really.But everytime I've attempted to keep my mind busy with other things, I find this other entity starts to control even those things. Now, I'm telling this to an internet blog because no one else wants to hear about it. No one else even thinks its real. Probably laughable mostly, "hahaha, she thinks there's two people in there."
WELL HAHA YEAH I'M A FUCKING LOONY TOON THANKS.
And now I'm done because this is pointless.
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