Out of Control

My mind feels so scattered like marbles being dropped and rushing in every direction.  It’s like I am internally going through every emotion possible, but at lightening fast speed.  Like watching a movie in fast forward, I am so confused about what’s actually going on.  I feel as though I’m actually going insane.  Is this how it really feels?  Like a multi-colored bouncy ball, my thoughts and emotions are colliding with my insides.  I feel so cold all the sudden and my senses have become heightened.  The dimly lit room has suddenly become so much more alive.  Why is it that just when I’m starting to feel a little better I’m abruptly pulled right back into this world of darkness.  Is this something I will always live with?  Will the shadow of doubt and fear continue to be with me every step of the way?  I feel as though my life has become so crazy it is like I’m behind the wheel of a car spinning out of control on ice; no matter what decision I make the car will still probably crash.  A grave and epitaph are already being selected for me.  The faint sounds of the trains that pass by my window remind me of freedom; freedom to move and freedom to live.  I am so trapped now that a bottle of alcohol or a rolled joint is where I would like to be right now.  As the prophet said, only I can unlock myself from this mental prison.  But the key is hidden in the dark and I have no light with which to find it.  I am scared that I may never find it and I will continue to be a lost soul forever.  Until my day of endless rest I shall search.  I pray you don’t have to share the same fate my friend because days of ceaseless anguish and suffering lay ahead of me.  This is the true fate of a lost soul.

Monitored

When shall this living nightmare come to an end?  My fears about being here are starting to come true.  Like a newborn child I am kept within visibility and earshot at all times.  The only time I am alone is at night and even then they are sleeping so close to me.  My every step and breathe throughout the day is recorded and analyzed.  I want to run away and be free again.  I am a caged bird that yearns to spread its wings and never return to this house of imprisonment.  I am dying slowly while I am here and I am losing time.  Soon I shall be a walking skeleton and nothing more.  I want to be able to feel love and happiness, but I can’t here.  Will I ever find such a person if I leave here?  So many people miss me and I share their feelings, but there is nothing I can do and I feel so hopeless because of it.  Why does it hurt so much to be happy?  Why does it hurt so much to try to love?  The only life I see right now is me, this pen, this paper, and a bottle of rum.  I have failed my parents, family, and friends.  I have failed everyone who ever had faith in me that I was a quality person.  Each and every day I have tried so hard to be the best I could be, but I have fallen so short of that now.  Who wants to love an alcoholic?  What potential does a pothead have?  I am the scum of the earth.  The faith that I kept so close to my heart for eighteen years has crumbled away like an eroded rock and has since been replaced by the closest thing to religion, Bob Marley.  I don’t know what to believe anymore or say or do.  What does this crazy world want from me?  What purpose am I suppose to serve?  I am losing the only sane part of my mind left.  I hope I can leave this place soon; I hope I find a way out.

Emptiness

I feel so empty now without alcohol and marijuana, like an empty piggy bank; if you dropped a quarter into me you could hear the clank as it the bottom and the incessant rattle until it finally came to rest.  I have jitters and twitches throughout the day as I fight the urge to use.  Walking through the grocery store today all I could see was the alcohol.  All I could see were the vast wine choices, beer, gin, rum and my good friend vodka.  I could not look away until I had scoped out each and every brand as well as each and every size bottle available for that brand.  Even on the drive home all I could see were liquors stores or alcohol advertisements.  I feel as though I am trapped by these thoughts of drinking and smoking.  Even when I am able to see a great friend and hang around with him, I still end up walking home sad.  What is to become of me?  Will I ever be happy?  I wish I had a crystal ball so I could see that down the road I’m fine and everything works out.  Right now I can only see as far as the present.  The future is so far away and out of touch.  The sad truth about my life right now is that I can’t even trust myself.  There is a force, greater than I, which has manifested itself in me ad is reeking havoc.  Like a parasite it multiplies and even finds ways to be reborn when an anecdote is found.  I am a carcass left in the desert to rot and be picked at by nomadic vultures.  Another day has gone and that means another day sober.  Another day survived and another day lived.  

VI

Sometimes I wish I could just run away and never come back.  Why do I even matter?  School means nothing.  All I do is get grades by someone else’s standards.  Life means nothing anymore.  I am always filled with rage and hatred.  At the slightest misstep I lash my venom in the direction of a helpless victim.  What did they do to really deserve that?  I want to be surround yet still feel alone, so why not just be alone?  If I could leave this place where could I go?  I am wandering aimlessly in the valley of darkness with nothing to help me.  Sanity is a word I often ponder.  I don’t think at any point in my life I have ever been sane.  Not once have I ever felt normal, not once have I ever felt like I’m ok.  Writing is the only thing I have and yet not even it satisfies me.  I am never good enough or worthy enough at anything.  I may act all high and mighty on my throne above the rest peering down among the lowly, but really I feel as though my talents lack any merit at all.  My true masterpiece has yet to form and in my desperate search for my potential greatness I have to toil in the calamitous efforts of my failings.  To dream is to know and not live, but to live is to know and wish it could have been dreamt.  The forces of good and evil take to the fields of war inside me.  With each turn in the battle I change myself.  The tides of war control me.  The master of the house has taken leave to hover over these bloody proceedings.  Oh what violence men make.  The spirit of my soul has been stolen by the gatekeeper, locked away never to be returned.  I live every day in a prison cell unable break through the iron bars.  Time has become so blurred that days feel like weeks and weeks feel like days.  I have been gone from the land of my fore fathers for some time now and yet I feel as though I may have never lived there.  Nothing is as it seems.  The light of day feels warm and honest, spreading happiness to those who bask in its unrelenting splendor.  Yet the monotony of darkness has been bearer of wisdom.  Maybe the light hides its faults with its flashiness and sparkling awe?  Maybe the darkness is the true source of wisdom for which I have been seeking on my quest?  Either way I must enter the rabbit hole to find the answers I seek and am I prepared to do this? I am not ready for this but I am going to go through it anyways.  When I get to the end I will let you know how far this hole really goes.

III

Master of my domain and keeper of darkness, I own the night.  I am pestilence and famine.  I am the watchman of eeriness.    I trudge through the valley of darkness searching for lost souls who have fallen off the beaten path.  These pitiful creatures are quite easy to round up.  Often isolated amongst the facade of norm; they are truly trapped even though they appear free.  Some are still afloat by means of lifelines, but even they are dragged down easily into the murky seas.  Captains of hope make efforts to go on rescue missions to save those who have started to sink below the waterline.  But those who have already gone under are considered too far gone to save.  Swill merchants, don’t they know that too far gone doesn’t mean just submersion.  Each layer breaks down a different part of what it is to be you.  I take things slow in order to make one suffer long drawn out pain; the kind that never really leaves even after reaching safety.  I am empowered by your relapses and take joy in haunting you when times seem good.  I tick like a time bomb awaiting my time to explode.  Your tears are the elixirs of my life.  Like cancerous tumors, I spread without warning and strike with deadly force.  To ignore me is to ignore oneself completely.  I am you; I become you; I consume you.  I am now your personality and your only friend.  Only one force can combat me.  The mind is a force to be watchful of.  He can be manipulated into an ally or turned into a foe.  He is a wavering force that has no bounds or limits.  To know him is to master oneself.  To ignore his power is either arrogance or foolishness on my part.  I know many ways in which to deceive him because of many years of practice, which has made me quite good at it.  Nothing but mastery of self can over come my grasp.  I travel swiftly and allow no safe havens.  I am what bumps in the night and what is waiting around every corner.  I am the darkness…I am fear

Opportunity and Fear

On the doorstep of opportunity I knock with uncertainty and doubt.  I have never been so certain in my life yet the fear, the fear of failure, continues to creep into my mind.  What if I'm not good enough?  What if I'm wrong?  The burden of fear has cast an overwhelming shadow upon me and my mind has once again been chained to the walls of insecurity. I want to reach the promised land and enjoy the purity of life.  Oh how I long to be loved as I love.  My life has finally inched in the right direction, but my troubled past continues to slow my progress.  My life is crumbling around me before my very eyes. Rome may not have been built in a day but it was destroyed in one.  My scruffy beard masks the scares of my childhood so nobody can see them.  Hope is so fickle that it isn't even worth trying to gain it anymore.  The only certainty in my life is uncertainty.  Anything that seems set in stone is really just etched in pencil.  Each day I struggle to cope with the ever-changing currents.  My livelihood hangs in the balance on the tip of a fine needle.  The stock market graphs don’t hold a candle to the violent undulating roller coaster I call life.  Who would have thought that I would end up like this?  Only the sweet voice of tenderness beckons me back to the light.  Her flowing locks brush against my tormented face and her eyes pierce my crushed spirit.  I am so vulnerable and yet I don’t seem to care.  Her smile lifts me up so that I may be closer to the sun rather than grovel along the ground for mere rays of light.  My poetic tongue is cut off by her mere presence leaving me with nothing to do by smile back at her.  Such a fair maiden as tenderness would make the likes of Aphrodite jealous.  While I may be a pauper the one thing I do have to offer is my heart.  I hope she accepts it or else I don’t know what to do.  I may just run away to some distant shore and live my days as isolated craftsman perfecting my art.  What shall life bring me next?  What more can be thrown at me?  Is it finally my time to be on the favorable side of this madness?  

Sea of Hope

The greatest crime against humanity is the invention of time.  Without it the world would be a simpler place and we could all live in peace.  But with it we are trapped into thinking that our lives revolve around time.  Life is not 9 am meetings and 3 pm conference calls.  Life is truly lived in moments when time has no bearing and we absorb our truest sense of being.  In those moments we are alive and for the rest of our existence we struggle to find another moment like it just so we can be reminded that we are actually alive rather than already having a foot in the grave.  Capitalism and industrialization have killed the human spirit.  At heart we are truly nomadic travelers who seek nature’s perfection.  While forests are being cut down so houses can built and while funding for parks declines seemingly every elections because policies on war and taxes take precedent.  What have we done with this world we live in?  The greedy hands of powerful men who want nothing more than to be re-elected taint anything beautiful or pure.  Everyday we waste away our last outposts of sanctity we are inching closer to losing our bearings of what it means to be.  To sit along the rocky coastline and watch the waves crash with such violent grace until the sun fades beyond the horizon is where I will always be.  To feel the sand between my toes and sink into the soft surface with each step as I turn my back from the sea and head farther up this oasis.  As night approaches all becomes quiet and the sounds of silence enter the fray.  The water rushing onto the sandy shore and the gentle breeze humming so sweetly in my ear make up a chorus of tangible tranquility.  Lying down in the sand and looking up at the numerous lights dashed across sky I become completely lost amongst the endless frontier of dark and light with the luminous moon being my only point of reference.  As the stiff sea breeze flutters the salty air through my nose I become alive.  It is as though I have inhaled the elixir of life.  A moment like this is what keeps the spirit hopeful.  It has been some time since I have lived and I yearn to do so while I have youthful ignorance on my side.  Treasure the life you find because soon there will be nowhere to find it.  Soon we may be doomed to the concrete jungle, which grows stronger each and every day.  It is never too late to start living, so be free and find yourself.  The longer we wait the closer we get to being another victim of society’s curse.  To dare to live is to dare to love, so rise young soldier and find thy truest sense.  Happiness is temporary, pain is everlasting, and love is essence.  The road is long and arduous but each step taken towards love is a step towards life.  We are what we love so if we love pain it shall define us.  But if we love goodness and harmony then we shall achieve nature’s perfection.

VIII

            Have you ever just stopped and watched birds fly?  I mean to think of soaring above all things and having the freedom of space to travel on.  With the wind at your back going anywhere is possible.  Time has no hand in your life.  When I see these creatures I feel envious.  I live in a world shackled by time and limits.  Time was created years ago to keep people from being truly free.  I wish I could cut myself from the noose, which is strangling the life from me.  Dangling there I can only gasp for the last breathes of air before all the life is sucked from me.  Then it is too late and I will become controlled by the evil forces of blandness and complacency.  We are all doomed to this fate; unfortunately not many see this.  The few that do tragically fall and are dragged away like everyone else to be laid low.  The irony of life is that we all end up six feet below; some just have nicer tombstones.  Society distracts us from these realities and baits us along to believe that materialistic and capitalistic ideals are the fruits of life’s bountiful harvest.  Yet these are the fibers that compose the very rope with which we meet our demise.  Our gifts and talents should be the leading catalysts in our lives and yet they are often set aside because they are seen as burdens to wealth.  Even when our talents are not set aside they are exploited like innocent immigrants in order to make the most profit.  I want to be free of this fate; I want to run wild and free across the land.  I want my home to be anywhere and nowhere.  I want to forget my name and my age.  Along this journey I want to live.  The only hope I have in this life is for this.  One day I may leave and never come back.  Mourn not my dear friend for that shall be my day of freedom.

I

The pen is mightier than the sword, but what happens when the pen runs out of ink?  So the words lose their meaning?  Or do they actually become stronger?  When the words stop flowing does the pen run dry?  Afflatus is surrounding me yet the page is blank.  The empty white spaces and blue lines stare back at me with deadness.  Even when the pen is finally united with paper nothing appears.  The black river that flowed so eloquently had run dry due to a long-standing drought.  What were once majestically towering trees, swaying with elegant grace in the howling wind have become merely trees.  Oh what a tragedy this is.  The world is more than just stick figure representations.  Trees see and the wind whispers soft nothings into your battered ear as you trudge down Commonwealth Avenue towards your next class.  The world lives, yet I cannot currently give it life.  A canvas such as this should be painted with the touch of a Picasso.  But what if Picasso is dead?  What if his best work has already been done?  Some time ago I put my chisel down and walked away from the slab.  I intended to never go back to the dark abyss that gave birth to such destruction and death.  Yet on cold nights, when it is eerily quiet, I hear the voice of fear calling my name.  She is the temptress of my soul.  Oh what history we have had, many nights spent together making sweet love.  Our passion was gripping and often mysterious.  We were young and ready to shock the world, but eventually everything fell apart.  But now that we have been apart for so long, I actually miss her.  Who knows if the fire of old can be rekindled or if a new flame will be lit.  What I do know is that rain clouds are on the horizon, so prepare yourself.  My bruised hand flies across the page with newfound intent.  The grooves on my pen brace against my hand like a warm hug from a long lost friend.  All becomes silent as the world is tuned out.  My weathered eyes scan the room with delicate precision.  My eyes lock onto a clock on the opposite side of the room.  It’s arms suspended in time, signaling me to come closer.  My mind starts to wander and flushes out all my worries and troubles.  Staring at the clock I find the first words and begin…..

Long walk

In times such as these my only refuge is a lonely walk down the dark and empty streets, which surround my apartment. The lightly fluttering rain and dim street lights set the murkiest of backdrops as I trudge along the brick and stone sidewalks. The sounds of rain clattering against rooftops and the street below coupled with the squeaking of my shoes along the dampened stones are the only things to fill the void. The sweet stench of old cigars and cigarettes cast aside in every dark alley brings me to months past when I was a reckless lad. As winter’s cold wind batters my weathered and unshaven cheeks, I can only be reminded of my days along Commonwealth Avenue and what it would have been like to be there right now. I am not one for crying but the drops of rain, which flow with such grace and abundance, shall suffice. This world of dark eeriness has become my only home. Around every street corner and in every pitch-black window display I expect some sort of beast or demon to appear. This world seems so fake; yet it is so real. The rain has finally stopped but my toes still feel it's watery sting with each passing second. The dark and empty storefronts, which I pass, stare back at me like brothers, as if to say we have something in common. The incessant hum of crossing signals and the booming roar of passing trains as they make their final stops for the night lead me back to my dreary place of residence. The only true currency left in this world is human connection. The madness, which has riddled my brain like a cancer, never seems to go away. I try so hard to be close with people, but I always seem to get turned away. Like a beggar, I am left to wander these streets looking for anything to quench my thirst or fill my empty stomach. Even when things seem good there always seems to be a but or however attached with it. I am afraid that the time when those buts or howevers are gone will never come. Love's tender touch is so close to me the merely a cool breeze shall bring it my way. I long to feel love hold me tight and look into my eyes with such passion; to have her soft lips connect with mine and to hear my heart leap out of my chest as she looks back up at me with innocence's keen eyes. Love is older than time itself but each time love is renewed she feels like a sweet child again. Unlike Adam in the Sistine Chapel, I hope I can feel the warm embrace and not be eternally doomed to loneliness. For now I shall wait because she is worth waiting for. 

The Omniscient Seeker

The black night clouds the light from the lamp post.  The front porch creaks and groans with each end every step as I inch and inch nearer and nearer towards the house.  The door is conveniently unlocked allowing for a surprise entrance.   The door leads into the living room which is filled with their crap.  Strewn about are their trinkets and gadgets looking seldom used or completely abused.  The family is not easily amused by simple tools or complex rules for these simple tools, which now do not seem so simple anymore.  The real truth to this crazy madness is they are foolish fools without any rules and they act like mules.  These fools cannot appreciate what privileged life they live and cannot understand how easy they have it.  I continue towards the stairs which lead to the bedrooms.  Oh how I move so slow, the anticipation is building, Building, and BUILDING.  My heart beats faster, Faster, and FASTER as I get closer and closer.  I creep and linger about as reach the top step and without hesitation a reach the first door. 

It is told in ancient lore that a poor man killed a family out of nothing more than greed.  It is said he envied their wealth so much that he killed each and every one of them to ensure he would leave no heir to the fortune.  In the end however he went completely insane because the memory of the family haunted him for the rest of his life.  I am here to say that I am going to defy this myth with my own creative gift for this family and an abrupt end to this rift. 

Creeeeek, creeeeek the door slightly opens and I gaze my eyes with in.  The pitch black allows for no visibility, but I know where he is.  I am an attentive student who tries to be as porous as possible.  I learned very well from my master and he is very proud of me and I too now am I master.  I am the master of fear and I hear the shrill cries of pain and suffering.  I feel the shrieks and yieks of the chosen victims roll down my spine, but I am fine with this for my goal and I feel no remorse for taking your soul. 

 I step into the room peering directly at his pale face.  He is in the middle of a peaceful sleep dreaming of good things and not worried about anything else in the day to come.  I try to imagine what a man like this would dream about.  And in trying to do so I blank, I think of nothing else but the task at hand.  I wonder how shall I kill this beast and should I at least let him feast before his last breathe?  I think I might just end it quick with a swift flick of the wrist and a small blade. 

I take one step to do this deed, when pounding and pounding, my heart almost leaps out of my chest, he turns over in his sleep.  To my relief he is not awoken and now I move in.  I quickly slit his throat and made sure his words would not be heard.  The now lifeless man lay looking at complete peace.  I tip toe even slower now to the next door, almost at a crawling pace.  I am hoping that the silence of night has kept my presence hidden beneath its dark depths. I feel a pounding, oh how sudden it was, ah but swift it was.  The pounding was from the other side of this heavy door.  I press my ear against this door to know what bangs this heavy door.  

Tap tap, tap tap the pounding has been lower, but I still am curious about who bangs this heavy door.  Is it ancient lore that bangs this heavy door?  I open the door to know for sure who bangs this heavy door.  The room is empty with a single chair sitting in the middle of floor, but before there was a whole set of chairs and cabinets.  My mind cannot comprehend such a mystery.  No one is here, no one in sight.  I turn around and look upon a dark hallway. The hallway seems to have stretched quite a bit, although my vision has waned as the night has passed.  To my surprise and shock, the shape of a little girl is visible at the end of the hall.  I trudge closer, but almost in complete fear.  Me afraid of a young little girl, please.  I continue on to see who she is.  Once I am within a good distance where I can make out her face, she is gone.  I wonder, I wonder, I this really a little girl.  Tap tap, tap tap the door begins to pound.  Now the pounding of such a heavy door has struck up again.  I must implore what the cause of this pounding is against such a heavy door.  Again I open the door, but this time the chair is rocking itself.  I glance back into the hall to see the little girl at the end of the hall.  Now my mind is racing and thinking; what could she be a ghost or just a silly little girl playing a trick?  And once more I linger down the hall to see this little girl.  But I can’t seem to move faster than a crawl.  Her presence is stifling me and making me uneasy.  Each step DECREASES and Decreases and decrease my confidence.  I don’t think I want to know who this little girl is anymore.  I turn and sprint with all my strength down the stairs and out the door for some strange reason.  As I stare up at the window of the empty room I see the silhouette of the little girl.  This is no ghost, but a little pest.  I walk back into the house and up the stairs.  I open the heavy door to see the girl sitting and rocking back and forth in this chair.  I tell this little girl that I am going to kill her for all the trouble she has caused me.  She looks at me and smiles.  I take one step with knife in hand and am about to strike when….I wake up.  Where I am?  What is this place?  It is dark and the cool breeze enters through the window.  I hear a tip tap, tip tap on my door.  Before I can get up to open the door I fall back into a dazed sleep.  I feel a sharp pain, but after I am comforted and drift away.