what a dream

odd twisted lines define his face, grotesque in every way, this thing that sits before me
is not human, what interstellar prison did he escape from? he stares at me blankly
no feeling in those deep dark holes that can only be his eyes. he is twice my size
ten times my strength, and with no heart, no feeling, no conscience, and a simple
will, he is infinitely more dangerous to me than i could ever be to him... i am armed
with a simple blade and projectile weapon, perhaps i can put hope in those to rescue me.
a foolish hope, but i have heard of lesser men overcoming more with even lesser hopes


he starts to move, not towards me but just to the side, towards the door,
still staring, never blinking those holes in his head... why does he retreat?
and to where? i sense no fear in him, only flat nothing. he cannot be second
guessing himself, there is no reason... that i know of...
the holes squint, very narrow slits now, no longer lifeless, almost glowing yet still dark
they pierce me, burn holes through me, as if i wasn't there...


an explosion of motion, he moves towards me with a speed that is hard for my eyes
to track, i drop to my knee and draw my weapon, but as i take aim he sails over me.
rolling to my back i somersault over to see him tackling a huge muscular creature just a
few feet past me, he tears it apart a limb at a time, showering me in a brown putrid
fluid that can only be some type of blood...


he is looking at me again, those staring holes... heaving with each breath, he is covered
with the creatures blood, dripping off him as if he had been swimming in it, the walls are
splattered, smeared and smudged with it... the gore is visually stunning, gut wrenching


the hand that holds my weapon is shaking uncontrollably as he starts towards me...
convinced this will be the last few seconds that i live, i bring the weapon up and aim at his face
those dark holes always staring, perhaps i can give him a third one in between them,
before the brown gore that runs down the walls and across the floor gets mixed with the red within me


he stops, cocks his head to the side, like a dog hearing an inaudible ringing...
his face contorts into what can only be a smile, i've lived a long life without seeing a demon's grin
i guess there is a first time for all things
is he amused at my stubbornness? why the hesitation? is this a game to him? pictures of a cat playing with a mouse before before pouncing on it dance in my head...
whats that noise?
sounds like
scratching....
ripping.........
tearing......
................




awww, stupid dog, what is she getting into now?
man, what a dream...
i should write this down....

waiting

alone
afraid
lost
none of those things describe me tonight
i have a renewed sense of creativity
its like waking from a long dreary dream
stories almost forgotten stir anew in my mind

i long to finish those stories
so many though... on which do i start?
exxes seems a good one, but too complex?
perhaps fuzzball comics...
so i do some animation, some render tests
and now i sit and wait for the numbers to be crunched

smooth digital jazz soothing me
the moon high in the sky
bright as the sun
a day away from being full

...........................

he sits on a deserted beach
waiting for her
he has been here for minutes that stretch into years
still waiting
seeing her face in his mind, he smiles
waiting
will she come?
the invitation was simple
meet me on our beach, ill be waiting
our beach
they met there
he was alone that day
beat up by life
getting away
she was walking down the shoreline
crying from the beating life had given her
not wanting to be alone
she did not see him
he saw her
he watched as she walked by
head hung low, tears flowing
it was almost midnight
the moon peaking out from behind thunderheads
making their way inland
she walks just past him, and stops
facing the powerful ocean
waves pounding in one after another
like the blows she received earlier from the day
a lost friend
a misunderstanding at work
a near miss on the highway
a past that haunts
pounding in one after another
he clears his throat almost inaudibly
she spins at the noise
and stares into the darkness
fear in her eyes
"who's there..?"
he stands
"just someone trying to get away"
no response
she glances around as if to seek some hideaway
some hole to climb into
some place to hide
"ill leave the beach to you if you need it"
"no" she says at last
"you ok?"
"no, not really"
"then we are two of a kind, then. want to talk about it?"
with a total stranger? oh sure
"not really"
he sits
"ok"
she stands there trying to see him
then walks towards him, slowly
and sits just to his right
...
silence

that was the first night they spent together
on this beach
two people just out of reach of each other
yet totally alone
he finally broke the silence with some of his own thoughts
she sat and listened for some time before she spoke a word
but once that word was spoken
a relationship started
they began "running into each other"
on that beach
at first hit and miss
he would show up hoping to see her again
and did not
she would take that walk
hoping he would step out of the darkness
offering an ear
and walk on alone
but the meetings began to be more and more often
not "planned"
but soon each time they sought out the beach
they found each other
talking until the sun came up over the line cut across the sky by the sea
they shared their pasts
their secrets
pains
loves
struggles
victories
exploring the depth of each other
as each would allow
..............
information was finally exchanged
a number
an address
then many days passed before either visited the beach
he took a chance today
leaving that note
not a chance meeting
an invitation
now he waits
did he cross a line?
would the magic of a "chance meeting" die with that invitation?
he waits
when do i get up and leave? he asks himself
how long do i wait?
waiting
oh well...
he stands, brushing the sand from his jeans
and looking up
he sees her...

If you were alone

its windy tonight
the chimes ringing
moving with borrowed life from the wind
singing a song to the world around them

triptrance audio files playing from small speakers
the sound that keeps my mind focused
the frequency that allows it wander
a beat that makes me want to move

surrounded by darkness
clouds hide the stars
it is midnight after all

sitting here in my own little world
fingers slapping away a this keyboard
this new world of brain dumping
a comfortable place for me to be

why am i so comfortable to sit here alone?
just me, myself and i
the three of us get along just fine
we are able to express our selves, unhindered

digital freedom

i guess the good things about being alone
no one to bother you
nobody to act for
no one to look at you funny
then again, the bad part is
youre alone

is it good to be alone?
sometimes
all the time?
no

i had a psych patient that told me once
"if i stop taking my meds
everyone goes away..."
he says his halucination is this
"the world empties
i am completely alone"

how long could a human mind handle that?
a day? a week? a month?
he did it everyday for about 6 years....
what would that do?
if you were absolutely convinced
that no one was around?

looking at this mans history
was a good indication
the things he had been picked up for...

walking about in a mall naked...
going on a test drive in a new car
but driving it to his home and walking
to his door with the keys....
unable to see or hear the sales guy demanding his keys back....
seeing something in a store he wanted
not seeing anyone else in the whole store
he picks it up and just walks out...

what would you do in a given situation
if you were convinced no one would see
or no one would ever know?
would you live differently?

if you say yes
then those things that you would do
undiscovered by those around you
are a very real version of who you really are
what your character is really like....

makes you think... doesnt it?

horror

horror

gore

a blood smattered wall

a carpet soaked in some kind of dark nastyness

a body

scenes from a tv show tonight

she winces

pulling her eyes from the sight

looks like one of my dreams i say...

how long have i dreamed such things...?

3 decades...

no, not every night

but more than i would have liked

why would i want to ever sleep again...?

there is always a chance of my darkest fears 

griping me to point of death

letting go just in time for me to wake

to face another day 

a chance ill be waist deep in some flood of gore

of chained down in the darkest pit my mind can provide

alone and lost in a forest of angry trees

trapped in that backyard that brings such hate

but, and as always there is a but

without taking those chances

there would be no alex'ra

ja'ul from i am cold would not exist

sparc, nrgy, and the kid of terra transport would not be

13, exxes, quandry, the monoliths

... and so many more

these places i have visited

the other worlds i have explored

some many times

are sweet departures

from the hell that i could visit

ive never considered myself a writer

but i have been writing now almost every night

perhaps one day ill put them all together

bind them up and share them with the world

not yet

only those closest to me are allowed to see in me

isnt that how it should be?

i think of stories i love to read

what if those people would have not shared?

so some day i will share

im sure someone will enjoy these ramblings of mine

in some way or another

Get out

i am getting good at this

not my ability to write

but the ability to get this

stuff out

out of my head

out of my mind

out of my heart

out of my soul

it happens with less words now

better focus perhaps

able to pinpoint what im feeling

very new for me

extremely cool

playing the same music

to get my fingers moving

get my mind flowing

getting the words out

feelings

some i used to hate

others that i feared

what if people knew i felt

this or that

as i talk with others

i find im not so alone

in these feelings

or at least some variation of them

i have some good friendships that

have developed lately

they have shown me new things

about me, about people in general

about them specifically

i understand now what i have heard so much

hearing 'you are a good listener'

now means so much more

the people that have listened to me

those friends i cherish

i dont think they will ever know

how much they mean to me

and on how many levels

although now the shallowness i see in some

frustrates me even more

how can you be happy in superficial bullshit?

happy?

perhaps not happy, but safe

there is a measure of safety

in staying within your walls

peeking out every now and again

so people around you know your still there

but not enough for them to really see YOU

lately ive had people challenge my gates

some gently

others with more force

but causing me to do more than peek out

those gates now swing wide at their approach

dont get me wrong they still slam shut

when others get near

but for the few that i have grown to trust

they open easily

trust

now there is a topic

one that i am not prepared to go over tonight

but maybe a peek....

do people really trust me?

should they?

do i trust people?

should i?

sure i trust you

do i?

actions speak louder than words

that phrase

so true

you can say all day

friend, love ya, good to see you

and then shout PISS OFF

with nothing more than a look

or a reaction to a word

the act of

'blowing sunshine up ones ass'

why do people do that?

the truth hurts

yeah, sometimes

but come on without it where are we?

decived or deciving

happily delusional

ignorance is bliss

blah blah blah

if your having a bad day

tell some one

if your just happy to be alive

say something

if you hate the person

tell them....?

now we are venturing into tact

i will not walk up to someone

that frustrates me to the core

and let them know

if they ask....

they had better be prepared for truth

brutal truth

but at the same time

only to say what i really feel

not to hurt

.......

how did i end up here?

these ramblings sometimes grow

beyond where i intended

at which point they become what they are meant to be

my mental dump

better to do it here than try to sort out some

jacked up dream

and with that i will retire

perhaps to a less vicious dreamscape

if not....

i will be writing again

it has to get out

somehow

Clowns

cant sleep clowns will eat me...

everyone has their own clowns... what are yours?

those things that sit just beneth the surface

only rearing thier ugly fanged faces when your all alone

stalking you in your mind, causing that battle inside you

a war that only you can see, only you can fight

combat against the very thing that you have brought to life

that face... staring, leering, waiting to pounce

do you feed your clowns?

if they are there, then you feed them

they cannot live on thier own

they must be sustained

why do we feed the very thing that we fight with?

the easiest way to defeat an enemy is to starve it

why do we continue to feed the internal killing of us?

what drives us to do this?

can you kill the clowns that keep you awake all hours of the night?

of course, but do you want to?

of course, then why dont you?

is it a lack of desire? is a lack of will?

is it easier to co-exist with those deamons?

is there some kind of sick comfort in hanging on?

will there ever be a day when the war will end?

that, i believe, is up to you...

ultimately the winner of any conflict is the one that has the strongest desire to win

once one side decides there is no option but to be the victor

the other side has already lost and its just a matter of time

so, decide to win. choose to be the victor... is it that easy?

..........

time to sleep

let the clowns feast

im too tired to fight

too worn out to choose...

In the light of a full moon

ah, a full moon, so bright out tonight, alone in the light of the moon, hearing not much, the same crickets, the same AC compressor grinding to life every once in a while... in the distance a dog or two, i live just blocks from little mexico so what do i expect? ive been writing like this for a few days now, so liberating, to just dump the day, spill my soul into this digital ear... i am not a writer, come on how many dyslexic writers do you know? my delete and backspace buttons are wearing out i think, but this is so very relaxing, i sleep so well, not unhaunted but well, i wake up refreashed, what a feeling... today i spoke with a close friend, possibly my closest, we stirred up demons... spoke of our darksides, explored them unafraid, not without positive outcomes or solutions but our darksides none the less... i havent known anyone that has a really close grip on what hunts them, what drives them to hunt, as i do, until now... it is a rare thing to talk to someone openly, knowing they really know what your talking about, not just nodding thier head with professional empathy... that was me for years, sitting on the otherside of a table, in a locked psych facility, hearing other humans spill thier demons... ah, the darkness of a mans heart... who knows how terrifying that is? sit across from pure insanity, ask it to talk, then take notes... then the next day, go back and read those notes, and feel the icy chill run down your back as you realize this person just checked out AMA.... Against Medical Advice... and is out there somewhere... why do i not go to the movies and watch a psychotic thriller... that is why... most people only get exposed to the pit of psychosis on the big screen, very few get to look into its eyes... and know... know that in the depth of those cold eyes is insanity, and if not controlled by some medicinal means, has the potential to do things seen on many movie screens... but the difference being there are no special effects, the person is not insane to tell a good creepy story, the person is just insane... trapped in the shell of a body, peering out of the looking glass of thier eyes, seeing a reality that only they can see, hearing voices tell them to do things that sound unreal, but the voices dont stop, they continue until what is commanded is done... could you resist? could i? and for how long? i wrote once that everyone has their clowns, but what if you actually saw them, walking toward you, everywhere you ran, everywhere you hid? would you finally give in? do i pity them? yes. i have looked into the eyes a young man, healthy, attractive, intelligent, popular... then he blinked... and he was gone... his eyes empty, no longer capible of interacting with anyone around him, and for a few minutes after i could see horror in his eyes as his intelligent mind was telling his soul, you are going insane and there is nothing you can do about it... that poor boy drenched himself in fuel, and had an unexpecting friend accidentally light him on fire, he then ran down a hall burning to death and lept out a second story window... that is insane. i think he knew, and convinced himself that there was no cure, none besides death. was it true? could be. some medication taken everyday may have helped, but maybe not, and if it did, that one day he forgot that little pill....
i guess i could ramble on about psych stories, and perhaps i will write them all down someday, but not tonight, the moon is full, the night is beautiful, the temprature perfect, sitting in shorts and a tshirt at midnight outside? nice. i think ill just let my mind wander for a while before i call it a night, perhaps start another story, see where it leads...