Last and least Section 1 As he walks down the street in an internal panic there eyes feast on his fear. They dismantle the foundation of his structure leaving him vulnerable to there faint whispers that echo throughout the desolate Wasteland that is his world. Each step is a small victory each victory a reminder of the seemingly endless pursuit to a peace of mind that eludes him. Dreaming of a day he will treasure these travels thAt burden his meager and bleak existence. He pays for his cigarettes and frantically tears the pack open to Light a smoke, Taking a deep breath to inhale his troubles as if to rid himself of them for a precious second only to exhale and greet his sorrow once more. It was a sunny January day where the air wraps its cool breeze around you and bestows A gentle comfort that resonates throughout your being. The palm trees tower over him humbling his existence shrinking the problems that seem to devour him. The cars pass him carrying with them a destination and the purpose of there journey, projecting certainty and direction as if to mock him, knowing well he is lost. He lives in a gated community but even with the fences that surround it, it holds no safety against the chaotic muddle that invades his fragile state of mind. As he walks from the gas station on the Corner by his mothers condo he hears the faint pitter patter of foot steps and the rustling of leaves pursuing him relentlessly. The world around him falls silent, hearing only his heart thump....thump.....thumping to the rhythm of a perpetual panic that dissipate throughout his body to a symphony of tumultuous chaos rippling violently disturbing his quite place in the sun he holds only for a moment. As he passes the bus stop a man flicks the embers of his cigarette violently collide with the pavement exploding In a chaotic burst of fire and ash with a seemingly malicious intent, as if to do harm to him. He walks faster and faster still gradually losing control. He reaches his door and closes it shutting out the seemingly random happenstance that scratch at the walls attempting to breach and flood the rooms with disorder and give way to panic. Its this kind of compromised integrity that threatens the sanity he clings so desperately to. He sits on the couch that seems to hold him captive insuring safety but bringing with it despair. Most of his time is spent trying to escape from the lonesome disappointment in himself that plagues his mind But today wields no such comfort, Only the unforgiving depths of isolation pulling him further still into his alienation that borders the perimeter of his adversity, that keeps him stagnant and severed from the belonging that he craves. With fear, that manipulates a man of honor into a coward ashamed, guarding the exit, his efforts seem futile. He knows its too late but continues to fight not because he is brave but because it is his only option, he does not have the luxury of choosing his fate. Until the end he eagerly awaits. Its a good day to die Section 2 It is only 8:00 in the morning, the day has just begun but already he is exhausted mentally, physically and emotionally. He sits on his thrown alone with no one but the voices to keep him company, scattered whispers that shatter his sense of security holding him captive In the prison that he trys so desperately to escape from. Fruition strikes him like a match igniting the explosion of doubt and uncertainty that petrifies him down to his very core. He is sure he has been followed but by what? His mind bends and stretches with twisted speculation. In todays world much is possible horrible unspeakable fates have been forced upon countless lives from monsters whos hearts have rotted from incomprehensible demoralization. Here and now he is to be victim of ridicule and shame only to breath his last breath and utter the soft words what a fine thin line it is we walk on this wretched rock we call home as he would reach for the sky in his last ditch effort to retain the hope that has long abandoned him. But it is not over yet the struggle has begun the battle to be fought and the war to be won. With each passing second with every sun set is another day closer to the inevitable end we all face. Time, such an irrelevant concept he thinks, inherited by man and developed into a scale that weighs our fate. Always the feeling of someone..... something watching him stalking him like pray for the amusement of a predator who has captive the upper hand. He must stay vigilant keeping a watchful eye to counter act any violence of action taken in the name of blood........his blood. It is not a fight he wants being a dreamer of serene tranquility he is not in his element. He must think of his first line of defense a way to reduce violence and increase his chance. Clearly it is not his muscles that are going to triumph in this madness if anything at all wit and cunning thought and determination, which Does no compensate much for the lack of strength is what will lead him to the calm caress of silence. He is sure it is a creature of unimaginable horror eight legs a thousand eyes and fangs longer then fingers waiting to sink there teeth into his flesh. The prevailing conundrum that falls short of the logic he craves is, he has not seen this monster only feels it. At this point he wishes it were something natural but he is sure it is not. His phone rings blaring so loud it lifts his stomach and drops it to the bottom of his belly startling him. He picks up the phone only to realize it is his mother........what a relief. He answers the phone only to hear the voice of the angel that has raised him through thick and thin the women who no matter what has time and time again protected him from the menaces society holds. Knowing he is in full fledged panic he answers with a soft h...e...l...l...o she asks how he is doing. giving her the cookie cutter response he knows he must use to avoid conflict and worry Im doing fine how are you? She tells him about the surprise retirement party her work threw her and announces she will be home late. Great thats awesome Im glad your having fun he says. Dinner is In the fridge and dont stay up too late you have work in the morning rolling his eyes with a smile he says I know I know. She laughs and says my worried little man with a worried little mind I love you and take care of yourself son. he promises and hangs up the phone. A worried little man with a worried little mind he thinks, a characteristic all to true. Something she spoke to him upon his first years of life. An observation that rings true throughout the next 23 years of his life. He puts some coffee on the pot and impatiently awaits its arrival. Masters of masquerade Section 3 He decides to pick up his guitar and play, how the strings vibrate sending sound waves in different pitches into the hollow sun burst body to be bounced back and forth trying desperately to escape and dissipate into the air. A simplistic marvel powerful yet gentle a universal language that holds true throughout the universe interpreted without thought yet created with Meaning With the ability to change or manipulate someones mood to create smiles laughter frowns even the power to levitate objects in controlled settings. It effects not only our emotional and mental selves but our physical realm as well what a marvelous creation of our species we call man he thinks. He lays his head against the body and plucks a string bringing awe and wonder and a little frustration, it never sounded right. A smile climbs the right and left sides of his face. He plays a tune He wrote called the fine thin line caught in the grasp of the sound waves he sings Tired eyes far from home Meet the ground From the ashes, we arose, to greet the sky and count our days Tired eyes put to rest there gaze The haze restricts his stagnant mind To wash away the sands of time Walking the fine thin line Carried away into peace of mind. Trying to Play a few more tunes he puts down the guitar with less satisfaction then going in like most of the time. Its little consolation for the inadequacy that looms over him demonstrating its dominance. It was a quiet morning, the air still, the sun bright, dew nestling in the arms of grass blades, waiting to make its ascent. There was something strange about it. Almost like it had taken on a whole different personality expressing its self with colors, smells, sights, different from what were familiar to him. A quick exchange of words with his mother before work gave similar results. Like there was something missing in them something that made them who they were was missing. Like a mask mimicking there characteristics but lacking the essence of what makes us human, masters of masquerade he calls them foreign entities whos intentions are hidden, wrapped in there motive protecting a monumental purpose at stake, thats demise means disaster and failure under a motive obscured from interpretation. the term for this absence being slightly sarcastic, a little humorous,but also admiring the ability to master and override the complex synchronicity communicated by the nervous system. His first choice of counter action is to play along and try to discover the reasoning for this absence that was once a vibrant mass of unique similarities and mannerisms bringing comfort to the ones we inherit and learn to cherish or banish through experience and time. Longingly he stares into a time of peace and mind that co exist in a cozy mist of dreams that seem so far out of reach, a distant murmur that cries out in a desperate plea to break the barrier of communication, essential for the development and growth its message offers. In a state of uncertainty, attempting to speculate its persistent banter and what it means the depths of alienation demand a solution and his full attention. He picks up his phone that seems only to make outgoing calls and begins the hunt for the prey thats magnificent evasion has become its tactic of choice, its natural and main defense against the threat of change leaving us trapped in its clutches only to learn dependence and disappointment. The icy highs and stormy lows that arrive and part like the seasons we admire and adapt accordingly to. He starts walking to the bus stop in the front of his moms complex as he opens the door and crosses the giant leap into the unknown certainty that the elements seem to cradle he takes deep breath and enters a whirling mass of unpredictability that befuddles his understanding leaving him vulnerable to the harsh elements reality omits. Passing his beautiful downstairs neighbor in the staircase he bashfully nodes and quickly enters the ground level never being known for his social grace he sighs in relief and continues on. As he walks he cant help but notice the indifference of his surroundings rejecting his desperate cling to normality that he once took for granted. No longer feeling native to this planet he hardly recognizes he is a guest in a foreign land. Feeling he is losing his grip on reality he avoids as much contact with these creatures as he can he trudges on vigilantly. He passes the guard that he has come to know as a general acquaintance and nods quickly avoiding eye contact In an attempt to avoid panic. He smiles and waves him through. His heart racing he pulls a cigarette from his pack and inhales noticing on the exhale that his cigarette taste radically different then he remembers. Who ever these creatures are they have to have something to do with it, he throws the cigarette to the ground with curious frustration then picks it up puts it in his pocket unable to litter and unwilling. Environment Is king and we are its subjects at the mercy of its wrath. Defying its superiority by attempting to Taylor it to our liking only to be reminded of its fragile state of which we hang in the balance. Finally approaching the bus stop he sits down and collects his thoughts only to be greeted by the the bus that will take him to his destination. Upon entering the vessel he exchanges the change in his pocket and takes a seat in the almost vacant bus. The bus hisses and roars pumping the pistons propelling the beast on down the streets he hardly recognizes. His feet jolting back and forth with unease as he scans his surroundings with skepticism, watching the passing cars and there operators for clues to unlock the secrets that this mythological landscape keeps hidden from sight. After several stops and passengers arriving and departing he reaches his Destination. He pulls his phone from his pocket and painstakingly waits for a reply. He gets the location and waits for the man hardly able to contain the anxieties that cripple his delicate sense of security. Each second of the 30 minutes that felt like an eternity suffered in doubt and the agonizing possibility of failure had been rewarded with success. The man greets him with hello, he smiles back. With knees shaking he says hello and asks him what hes doing today. The man responds with uncertainty and makes the exchange that will numb him from the perils of his shaken reality. They nod and part ways leaving him alone again, they way hes beginning to fear it is supposed to be. Section 4 Maniacal laughter through careless cries in the night Returning to the home with which he has come to relate with captivity. He pardons the details of his immediate surroundings. He begins the process of insanity he feels he is powerless to stop. With a quick rush of adrenalin he is restored to a state of intense euphoria that trickles down from his head to the tips of his toes releasing his cares of rejection and abandonment. Escaping his shortcomings and regaining his apathetic displacement of an unforgiving self. Lights start to flicker shadows dancing and swaying as if they were projecting the emotions lost in there inability to communicate
Posted on: Fri, 07 Nov 2014 10:24:36 +0000
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