Saturday, October 8, 2011

the sounds of fire

I should stop. The heat is getting too much for me at this hour. That the color of your eyes are too enticing against the heat. That it's going to take me all night to turn away. So I'm pulling away.
Why? You broke the rules. Three words, that's all the rules said you couldn't say. If you hadn't broken the rules, maybe none of this would have happend. Maybe.
You say I'm pretty! no. Brand new. maybe. What does it take to show you how clever I really am? I'm just talking too much. I won't ask any questions.
You need motivation don't you? Walk over here and tell me those three words. You're holding my attention with a kings randsom.
Dangerous. But that's what you wanted. Or was it me who invented the fire? Something to dull the ugly memories of distant seas. The fire is burning out anyways, might has well burn us both.
I'm not making demands. I'm not looking for a shipmate, or a prostitue.
I have heard the nightingale, and yet I don't leave Juliet's bedroom. What did I say about seeking out Danger?
I want you to know the truth about where I've been. To show you how far foolish heart and meaningless body have journeyed. All the mistakes. Better times. Not with this fire so close.
Why are you questioning my desire to leave? Papa taught me to never stay too long. But your twisted sense of humor and honest grip keep me in the embers. Dawns coming, marking a new year. Seems like a perfect occasion for another round of beers. Maybe that's what got me into this fire in the first place?
One time too many ordering one more. I'm broke and breaking down. Why can't I be you? Someone with such strength, power and pose? Did I just say pose? I meant poison. HA! I'm just drunk, don't take that as something real.
Why Can't I be You? Cure me. I'm running out of breath shouting for help. Curse you Apollo.
Just one more cup before I burn away. One more cup to sooth the burns. To keep my heart beating long after I have gone. I just want one more cup while I listen to the sounds of fire burning me away.
I'm your bitch while you've got that ray gun against your head. Keep your eyes on me, love. Don't fake this. I'm doing enough of that for us both. Make me know you really care. Make me jump out of the fire before it consumes me.
Any chance this is effecting you? You know I could stay here forever. How beautiful everything is though the flames. Will I get back on the bus before I turn to cinder.
I am such a little boy. Someone who cannot save himself from the all consuming heat. But I am a little boy by choice. Lost in between Neverland and Nirvana. Stay here, get in the fire. Dance with me as our bodies burn up. Soon it'll be over. The mystery will live on but our hearts will be broken before anyone can save us. I'm a child playing with fire.

Wednesday, October 5, 2011

Time Travel

You're not ready, he says, to travel through time. You're not going to understand the things you see in the past. You're not going to understand what the people you loved were saying. You're too young to understand what it means for them to be young. But you stole the machine and now you're there. And now you're seen what others lived though, and now you're only going to go back further, because you still don't have all the answers. And the deeper you get the worse off you'll be. It's called a syndrome for a reason. It's something that infects you. That takes you over, and causes you to loose even more than you already have. Why'd you steal the machine? Why did you want to see a weaker version of the man you love? What possible joy could you find in seeing a boy kicked in the stomach lashing out against the ether? Does this surprise you? Seeing him sick? Seeing him beating his head against the keys with the likes of Cash, Coltrane and Waits whispering in his ear. How could you care about this? No, you do, care, almost too much. Cause you seen the strange and it doesn't sicken you. You've traveled this far cause you do care. You wanted to see something that might make more sense. You knew he'd traveld to find you, so why shouldn't you? So, he says looking at her feet, you've here. What do you want to see? You're here, and this is just the middle. How far back can your empathy take you? You might as well have a guild. And who better to guild you than the man who will eventually break your heart. At least this way you'll understand why.

Tuesday, April 12, 2011

A letter

My Dearest Matilda,

War. The darkest of days has come and gone. I stand, an orphan of this terrible crusade; the soul survivor of the Blazin’ 38, Dakota territories only remaining regiment. Fallen are my brothers. Let it known back home that the Battle of Sportslvania Court House has cost the country over 30,000 souls. Their hopes and futures doust like the fire of independence that birthed this once great country of ours only to have now fallen to this sinister force. Goonie, the native boy from upstate I wrote about previously, was torn in two before my very eyes, an impression that has force me to take refuge in spirits, a sin which I am ashamed to admit to you. I am now without sleep for more than a week. Any time I close my eyes, I see our foe; these soulless killing machines, their cold eyes and haunting voices towering before me. I try to find solace in prayer, but I fear a god that could create such beastly villains, could not hear my pleas.

I ventured out into the battlefield this morn, as a dank haze hung over the blood soaked soil, searching for the remains of my company members before the cows did. The earth has been torn open, littered with the detritus of these two forces. This once peaceful town, known for its apple butter and propinquity to the great Hennessy River, remains a broken byproduct of a conflict that ruined more than the landscape. The oil of the machines and the blood of my comrades pool and reflect the fires of the buildings. The strength of this once great country has been replaced by twisted metal and bone. It’s spine, that once was a fervent patriotism, has been broken by the cold iron of the enemy, and now we lay paralyzed as the enemy conquers more each day. Some think the opposition came from outside the country, a mechanism from the old world gone array. But I know the truth; that American citizens like you and me created these horrifying oppressors out of sloth and lust for greater riches. We have given birth to our reaper.

Matilda, I have no misgivings about, or lack of confidence in the cause in which I am engaged, and my courage does not falter. I know how strongly the Human Civilization now leans on the triumph of the our resistance and how great a debt we owe to those who went before us through the blood and sufferings of these past 4 years against the Cyborgs. Too many men and women will be lost in the annals of time if we are to loose this Robot War. And I am willing—perfectly willing—to lay down all my joysin this life, to help maintain presence of man on this planet, and to pay debt.

Donovan Alexander II
July, 18 2065

Tuesday, January 11, 2011

Coffee Porn

Photos from my love affair with Coffee