Master of Judgment

As I stood in the centre of it the stone segments that encased me I saw it all. Every word still unspoken, everything ever written, no; everything I have ever written all came down to something. Something bigger, something braver, something better, something greater than ourselves but then again at the same time I find myself wondering if it's all worth it in the end. Is it really worth it? As a unorthodox writer I like to feel and experience everything that the characters that I write about feel and do. I follow the code of their behaviour patterns and analyse their characteristics like anyone who takes interest in  physiology and sociology. That was my only wish to be able to understand. That was before it happened; before everything I have ever written started to happen. At first it was just pure coincidence and then it just turned into something more than that. I am my own creator and my own master but that's just it...I live in fear of power, I draw away from what power I do obtain. Suddenly I became the prophesier, His chosen one but out of destiny or hell I do not know. Maybe that's a good thing, who knows?

The Fever

There are times when I feel myself falling further and further from sanity, whereas other times I just wonder if all of this was nothing but a bad dream that I'll wake up from. I hope that's the case at least but it almost always ends up in some terrible nightmare that I'll never wake up from. I'm a screw loose, everyone knows that or at least so I lead myself into believing. It's these times of insanity that I envision myself chained up, mouth covered so I can speak no harmful nonsense to anyone within hearing distance. I'm afraid and that image, well nothing scares me more.

You cannot exist in two worlds, you've had a feverish dream I could hear someone telling me but it was all in my head and as I stretched I shivered uncontrollably for a moment. I thought and the heavy gut filled feeling that followed. Something terrible is going to happen today; I can feel it and as always there is nothing that I can do to stop it.

Diesel, my dad had always smelt like diesel the last that I had known of him. I remembered hating that stench because with his wondering eyes my head spun, ached and the next thing that I knew the contents of my previous meal was more apparent that it had ever been usually. Just recently this year I have been able to pick up scents of people even when they're not in the room. Does it have anything to do with my dreams; sight and feelings of things that aren't seen to the naked eyes I do not know. In my time I have only had the opportunity to get the scent of my lover, a lover of the past and three more admirers. I've been able to tell so far that everyone's scent apart from my lover's scent are similar although a past lover's scent and one of the admirers are more distinctive, as if somehow acid rain had poured down on powdered spices, mixing it with mud to create their scent. Sometimes, like now it makes me wonder what it all means.

Over the weekend I done some soul searching and I said it how it is as they say to all the people who I have fucked up with or those who have done me wrong. I figured it'll be enough but sometimes I have a feeling that it won't, that there is still more for me to do but what else is there? I didn't want the sins of my past to follow me into next year. What next is there  for me? What other sins do I have to watch out for? What more is there? It's the what if, the not knowing that just runs round and round my head, making me dizzy, making me not think. Again I put on the gag, again I put on the silent mask of misery. "I'm always here for you" people say but will they understand? How can they when they cannot see? I cannot breathe, trapped in my own sway of nausea.

When everything breaks inside my head and the agitated images seem to flicker abruptly, giving me distorted visions of horrors I cannot even begin to explain to anyone. 


                        This is the Fever, this is the end to begin the beginning.

My Last Words: To You 2015

As I look towards the new year I do what most people do and reflect on the year past. So I ask myself what words can I use to describe this year? My answer would be that there is none, for as there have been highs there have also been lows. Betrayal, fake friends, pain, sorrow and grief are just some of the words and phrases that I'll use to describe the worst of 2015. Friendship, loyalty and unconditional love where there has been some of the worst times for me this year, there have always been those few unwavering in loyalty and comfort who have stood by me the entire time. Those are the few words I can use to describe the  good of 2015.

Thinking back about it all I remember those few who won't be seeing 2016 with me, those who are in Heaven. I also remember those who have started off as friends into nothing more but strangers for circumstances that cannot be helped and somehow I am not sad. After all we all learn something from someone or some incident that changes us all; all of it to make us stronger and wiser to the mistakes that had already come to pass. 

Sitting here and writing this I think about what few moments of good I have had this year, for once rather than the bad and the new people I have met, the experiences I have had. Like most this time I ponder life, looking back and I know that in my heart (what little pieces left of it that is) I properly wouldn't be at least 1% sane as I am now without having of met a lot of people; even with my broken self somehow I have found friendship, loyalty and love. Something which I never knew would happen to the spectre that is me and if by miracle it has. 


I have not set New Years resolutions for 2016 and who knows maybe I don't need one. At best I will do what I can to survive for as long as I can because we only ever live once and I have learnt that life is too short, that sometimes even what haunts you in the deepest and darkest of nights you will have to face it, conquer it and then at some point you will have to let it go. Nothing is ever certain and one can hope that for this new year that the past won't come with vengeance to haunt me once more,  that with what little hope that is left in this God forsaken world I'll still be me and I'll still have my family of friends. So I hope at least. As this year of 2015 closes I'm left with this motto 'you either ask for it or you won't get it. In the end your either good or bad and as for the rest well that's history. Once more you only live once so there is no time to waste on what has no point just as much there is no point to show interest to those who show non to you what so ever.' In the harsh truth of this year that is what I  have learnt. 

Suzanne Collins wrote in here book Mockingjay in the very end about surviving and this is what was written: 


“I'll tell them how I survive it. I'll tell them that on bad mornings, it feels impossible to take pleasure in things because I'm afraid it could be taken away. That's when I make a list in my head of every act of goodness I've seen someone do. It's like a game. Repetitive. Even a little tedious after more than twenty years.

But there are much worse games to play.” 




I suppose this is the only quote I'll leave to learn in 2015 for who knows what tedious battles awaits next in 2016?

The Colour Red

The clouds were grey upon a burning red sunset...only thing was there was no sun to be in sight, just the grey powerful clouds, the fiery red and black vortex sky and golden lightening that thundered the entire sky, shaking the ground that I stood on. Upon the verge of the jagged  cliff I stood gasping at the darkening depths below, the air drowning my hearing so that even my mind become ominous to the shrieking thunder that consumed every thought in me, every sound that would've been heard. The thunder struck again, again and again, holding no end to it's destruction as it's sharp teeth bite into the mountains, making mountains fall, spontaneous fires appear out of nowhere but everywhere the sound of the piercing thunder struck. There was no escape, not in the world where I stood wasted, devastation and pain was all I felt as if I stood inches away from the boiling sun, as it's rays burnt through my skin, burning my eyes until all I could see was blood. So much blood tarred the skies, raining blood falling everywhere and anywhere, upon my face, upon the sky and down my eyelids as I looked on in horror. Maybe I was bleeding a rain of blood to? Maybe the iron taste of blood was all I could ever sought in this place of death to satisfy my empty soul? This was death for me, a horror of the worst never-ending nightmare repeating its self but it wouldn't stop, I could no longer control this. Not any more. Not ever. This nightmare, this hell controlled me and all I could do was stand here and watch, waiting for what would be my death. Death by lightning or death by falling, falling, falling down into the depths unknown, into the darkness that awaited me down below. I saw both my deaths, my fall and my rise to a life like this; in a place like this. Gasping I looked towards the skies, watching as the thunder drew closer and closer towards me. Gasping again I glanced back down to the pits of the darkness. It was do or die but then again I will die to do anything anyway. Dammed if I could and dammed if I could not. The world swirled around me, as if I were encased in a dance of fire, flames appearing all around me and within it all every breath of me was lost from the thunder above. This was it. This was the end, for me and what was left of this broken vessel that I became. Broken, torn up in a world made by me and my own bleeding soul. I let out a breath, let out a bloody tear and in the last moments that became of it all I moved, ran and fell just as the lightning tried to catch me, grab at me with it's sharp teeth. I fell, fell, fell into darkness, into nothingness until I was gone. 



What was this? Did I find Hell whilst looking for Heaven? Or was I fated to be in Hell for all eternity to perish, slowly as I lose my mind, as I lose myself. Somehow I saw myself in the dark, pale faced, black eyes and red tears scaring my face. In a world of my own I was its own demon. I was it's own monster. I was it's own end. 

Dark Pride

Page 1

I should've known better
Than to ever
Look to heaven questioning
Whether I've found it

I'm stuck in this dead end

And all these words, they come too late

 You could never compensate

 For this pain

I should've said it all when I was close to you

 Like I was supposed to do

I'm stumbling through this life with no sight

It's too late

 The hands of fate

 Oh the hands of fate yea

 Just won't wait

 No, it just won't wait

Help me change

It's too late

 The hands of fate

 Just won't wait

 No, it just won't wait

The pained change took over

I don't know if you know who you are until you lose who you are.

Would things be easier if there was a right way?

There is no right way.

The dark caress of someone else

To somehow escape the burning weight, the art of scraping through,

 Some like to imagine,

God knows I fall in love just a little

I just thought, how can the devil be pulling you toward someone who looks so much like an angel when he smiles at you?

No apologies. He'll never see you cry,

 Pretends he doesn't know that he's the reason why.

 You're drowning, you're drowning, and you’re drowning.

 Now I heard you moved on from whispers on the street

 A new notch in your belt is all I'll ever be

I see.

I knew you were trouble when you walked in

You put me down

Lately I've been, I've been losing sleep

I feel something so right by doing the wrong thing

Everything that kills me makes me feel alive

Watch it burn.

Backfire

I don't want to remember it all

 The promises I made if you just hold on

I just need enough of you to dull the pain

I could just die laughing on your spiral of shame

I only appeared so I can fade away

I scream

And there's a jet black crow droning on and on and on

 Up above our heads droning on and on and on

 Hit it never quit it I have been through the wreck

I keep going to the river to pray

 'Cause I need something that can wash out the pain

 And at most I'm sleeping all these demons away

The ghost keeps me awake

Your cold heart makes my spirit shake

It’s still burning

What do you think is wrong?

The naïve mindset themed in pride I’ve seen twice in people, too stubborn, to realise their own faults. In the same I am the same with  my own faults but it’s the contradiction, condescending types of people that clash with the types of differentiating and then me.  In this circumstance it’s the majority of pride that’s set within the mentality that is always on the defensive. Picture it this way a person standing there in the woods, their eyes switching back and forth, grasping tightly onto a bow, arrow already notched into the bow string and with every minute that passes they draw their bow. A single sound they draw, draw, draw but alas this is only their subconscious because they’ll never show it for their pride forbids them to.

I’ve seen pride before in someone younger and in someone older. One is indirect but the other is direct about it. In his mind he’s right always about people and better than anyone else and when their way is challenged they fall back to the wall of annoyance and anger because although they know they do not understand or rather they do but never admit it.

 

I’ve seen pride before and she preaches the good, the way that Our God teaches but behind closed doors she plays the game well. An indirect thought she speaks, yells, unbalanced because of her pride that hardens her heart. We all know that there is a reason why but still only Our God knows and understands all. Our God knows there must be a lost mother trying to figure out a sickness of her daughter.

 

Through dull eyes she blankly stare, we know not what she’s thinking only the words that she says. This one grows loud in the surprise centre of something good but like all people it all becomes too much. A mind unused to power gets consumed by what is not planned, changing their way and playing a game with pieces that have value but to them have non but the power that they have. I can relate her to a comic book villain, Mystic. She is an archangel, los, misunderstanding but because of their game a threat in my head. 

 

Be warned I’m insane so when I see another person insane I respect and then I wonder, like I always do, what do they see when they see me? For him it started off like that up until the point we killed each other and made love then we killed each other and made love all over again. Now he’s the one that I loved but became an estranged monster seeing me as a threat, even when at present I have done no wrong, even when directly I have said a mutter of few words. His words cross truth and lie, unable to tell whether it’s for their game of words and actions as if trying to believe them himself…Again he is another one who is lost, stubborn to their way, disorientated  almost.

 

In my life I am lost, I can disappear without notice if I want to. I’m scared because all I see is black and white, threat and no threat. In the same way picture this in your head; a girl throwing knives on specific targets, skipping some targets when all the while knives gets thrown onto their back, digging into their skin.

 

“There's nothing left to say” They said.

“Well tell me, what do you think is wrong?” I asked after explaining it all.

 

I don't wanna do this by myself

 I don't wanna live like a broken record

 I've heard these lines a thousand times

 And I've seen it all before

 

Are we close enough?

 There is something I must confide

 I think we've lost our touch

 There's no sparkle in those eyes

 

What an awful mess I've made