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| F R E E W R I T E S | |||||||||
| Random excerpts from my NEYWC journal... All copyrighted |
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| Jessie stood, holding a fluttering hand in front of the shimmering blackness that looked back at her. What was it about mirrors that always showed the truth of things? Why can't the face that the rest of the world sees be seen? Looking into her own eyes Jessie saw a part of herself that only she saw. No one knew what she did, no one knew her like this. She was all alone with her blackened self and she stared into her own eyes and saw. Jessie was not a happy person. She wasn't what everyone wanted her to be, thought she was, said she could be. She was just Jessie. Her laugh bounced off the glass and smacked her in the face. The monster that she saw looking out with her eyes was not her. But Jessie knew it was her, she always had. Her sneer reflected back from such a distance, multiplied by the force behind her burning eyes, looking into eternity's forever. | |||||||||
| Eternity's forever, Reflected back through syrupy darkness Means nothing lasts the sunrise. Survival lost within heated looks, One night of ecxtasy. Meaningless. Faced with a vast ocean Of neverending pain. When does it end? Ah, it never does. Nothing lasts the sunrise, All burns in bright humor, Leaving naught but ash, Blown into eternity's forever. |
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| Mumbling voices, heads like dandelions, strangely grouped in rows; the breeze bobbing the heads and the spiderweb strung across the faucet; rumbling machines, hard and harsh against the soft language fluttering like the birds in the trees; unseen, yet surrounding; birds are soft, like the fields of grass wiggling slightly as breath moves them, as soft as its effect; juxtaposed against the points of berry bushes somehow still in all this commotion; rocks fall, crumble; sharp, hollow noises, low against the laughter; the ones I'm sitting on do not move, probably better that they don't; ever wonder why when one or two stones are removed, the rest fall down? is the world truly that frail and dependant? scary thought; but the dandelions come back every year, every single time they are chopped they come back; nature is resiliant, rocks are not. |
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| Breath of eternity slides down my chest, coaxing out the glinting colors of fragments of history dotting the surface of a pocked orange, red light from nowhere. Shadows dancing by, leaving their own behind. Cut off from the smooth leaves and yellow rays, music drifting on waves of opinion. Seams of black line a distant hill, seeping from the trees and clouds to surge over the eyes and ears of those above ground. There's no light in the sepia tones of abandoned heartache. The cold continues on, sliding with the notes of harmony, dipping with the weeds and spirit, falling through the searing flame of twisted iron and peeling skin, leaving nothing behind. | |||||||||
| A way, a place, a home now lost. Method and destruction overwhelmed honor and tradition. Earth felt the blow of fire and iron, peeling away the skin of ages. Crumpled satin fibers burning in the morning's yellow light. Shadows shushed and crammed beneath layers of bedsheets and lava, frozen with the eyes of denial. Where do dreams go when you forget? |
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| Lonliness and depression crash like mismatched dishes around you as you sit, staying curled in your ball, blocking the world from your body and mind. It's been torn too many times already. Pain has made you block out the people who try to get to you. Block off those who want to help but don't understand. Comedy is a mask covering the tragedy within that no one wants to see. You try to let tragedy out and you're crammed back in your little box where no one can see you. Why? Why is a depressed world unwilling to show, understand. Does everyone think that a happy person will make them happy? No. You just pull them down with you into your cracked, twisted, sadistic, slimy mindspace that only you know. No one wants to be there. No one wants to see themselves in the mirror. They want to see the mask you put up to hide what you are but you don't see that, you see yourself. The mirror is cracked, warped, that's not you. You're happy. Nothing is ever wrong with the pillar of strength and sanity that laughs when someone feels bad. Crap thickens and nothing escapes its stench and decay. You are pulled in with the twisted mask you refuse to let go. If everyone was what they were no one would feel the need to be happy, content to be broken, content to be themself. Teeth grind as you know I speak truth. Yeah, I know, I understand, yet I'm as lost as all of you. I can't stop the failing, can't stop the anger. Even those who always smile find their smiles slashed by the creeping stars and falling rain. Rain is tears falling into the poked surface of the mirror-lake as you slam your fist into its smooth surface to shatter the true mask. There was nothing for you here. | |||||||||
| Why do dreams tie into so much? How can dreams avoid the jerks of reality and remain around for so long? What makes them so transient, yet keeps them where they will never belong? In this world there is no room for dreams that will never come true. Nothing stays around long enough. Lives connect and split and nothing comes near enough to be caught. Like butterflies they always hover right out of reach, something always keeping them from your grasping heart. They crash and burn and ashes fly into the stars to join their ancestors. It's a never-ending cycle. All I ask is to keep my dreams. Without dreams, life is too hard to survive. |
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