unrest

stillness inside undone by rattling of spine
raindrops cut through fragile skin

thumping outside when thunders combine
seek no shelter, stand your ground

long nights collide, always left understated
blinded by the restless sun

crying out from within where the unrest begins

Can't

I can't stay here any longer. I have to leave, put the place behind me. Jump into a car and smash the rearview mirror. Fire up the engine and cast off with the screech of tires.

Don't look back.

Never come back.

Coming back... It would mean death.

The place... it became something else. At first, its foundations were laid unbeknownst to anyone, a quiet work on the side, at night, with nobody watching, nobody noticing anything. Beautiful craftsmanship, unlike any I have ever seen was being brought into life during long nights that seamlessly blended into early mornings. It was like a summoning spell bringing the best a different dimension had to offer. The place kept on developing, stacking up on walls and floors, reaching higher and higher every night, every day, every time.

After a while, the people who made it and turned it into their home... they invited me in. Frankly, up to that point I have been looking for a place like that all my life.

So when the question was asked, batting an eyelid wasn't even an option. I moved in.

Jumped in with both feet and dove in.

What a decision that turned out to be. If I was to make it again I would do it a thousand times over.

Everything good that ever happened, happened in the place. Initial fears turned out to be unsubstantiated. Things went smoothly. Things were beautiful. People were beautiful. Wonderful things, wonderful people, palpable emotions filled the interactions between me and them. I wanted it to last forever. I was ready to take it all in. I have given everything.

But the place... it became something else. Cracks started to show. People kept leaving the place and refused to come back. Their ranks, our ranks, grew thinner and thinner. They stopped caring, they stopped asking, stopped answering, just stopped. Slowly drifted away and took a sharp turn behind the horizon.

Worst part was I had no idea why.

Why? Why... WHY?

I guess what I've given wasn't enough to keep them.

I was left alone.

So today I finally gathered up the courage to look around me. I looked at the place for the last time. I'm still looking at it. It reminded me, still reminds me, of all that was ever good in my life.  Every wall, every inch, every empty space contained within the place is a relic of the past, a museum exhibition of happy, kind, silent moments that were no longer. It crumbled. Nothing is invincible. Nothing ever lasts.

That's the death.

Despite the pain it eventually brought, I still kept on believing that we could restore the place to its former glory. But the people... they wouldn't listen. I know they could hear me but they wouldn't listen.

They moved on and I stayed behind.

Now it's my turn to go.

I'm standing here, at the porch, with my luggage packed.

Torn. Lost. Confused.

I still believe...

But...

I don't want to go but I have to.

I can't go but I want to.

I need to...

Staying at the place would drive me insane. I would live in everything that I wanted but was never meant to be.

That's... beyond my strength.

I wasn't strong enough. I'm too weak.

But it wasn't me who gave up on the place.

What difference does it make now...

Question is... What do I do now?

The people... I can barely hear them.

What are they saying?

Do I take the step forward? Into where? Towards what?

What if someone comes back to the place?

I don't want to leave......

I have to...

I can't, I can't, I can't

Different

I've missed things when I was away. Things you take for granted. Things I used to take for granted.

I had plenty of time. All the time in the world. Seconds were hours that felt like days. There was nothing else to do but miss things and shift my mind into imagination. So there I was, thinking and breathing and forgetting myself time and time again. Stepping outside of myself and venturing. 

I pictured myself in a field when I closed my eyes. I could see myself walking among wheats, touching them with my fingertips. The sun was shining. It was blinding. A solar flare was ever-present in my sight. I didn't mind. I liked it. It gave me a sensation of warmth. Something I've missed so much. One of many things. Tip of the iceberg.

Now that I'm back I don't feel it the same way. I always knew deep inside me that it would be different. I thought it would be better. That's the truth. When I felt it again, really felt it, I was left wanting. Wanting more from it, demanding it to match my expectations.

It's not its fault. I guess my expectations were skewed by years of solitude. My imagination added certain features, enhanced the picture. It helped at the time. It allowed me to fight off desperation and hopelesness. For that I'll forever be greatful.

But as I lay down now, back here, I close my eyes yet again and drift...

Seconds become hours that feel like days.

There's the familiar warmth. Not the real one. The one that's exclusive to me.

It's not leaving me anytime soon.

At Night

Broken silence fills the void
Recites the words from a grimoire
A damning poem, stricken down with grief
Fallen short, fallen short, yet again

A smolder of hope gets beaten
Down with rain

Palms still clenched, though vaguely
Rest resigned on wet ground

Should've seen it coming from afar
Haven't learnt from past mistakes

It's all in the head
Fucking empty space
Winds inside whistle still, every night

All dark
All dark
My eyes can't see
A thing
A thing
My ears can't hear
A sound
A sound
It's all just gone away
For good
For good
Or till the next time, the next day

Try again

I didn't mind the rain that night. I didn't even feel it on me. I just saw it with my eyes as I was making my way through it.

When you walk in a trance, your mind fixed on the goal, you lose connection with your nerve endings. They go numb. They hide, dulled, they know it's not their time.

You can walk for miles and not feel anything. No pain in your body, no fatigue, no distractions.

Time slows down when you're walking like that. Slow motion and blurriness take over. A filter is applied to your screen. Your eyes. You see things you normally don't pay attention to. Things you're unable to see because your mind's wanderin'. You're looking at a film reel, frame by frame. I could see raindrops descending onto my face. I could see reflections of myself in falling water.

That didn't matter one bit. It only added to the theme. A mere decoration.

I kept making my way through the tunnel. A tunnel of focused thoughts that rearranged the surroundings, morphed them into a unified block of colors and shapes. Trees, buildings, people, air, life, every atom, every particle were more or less one entity. A collage.

They made for a border. A perimeter. If you would ever get distracted and breached it, you would fall.

You would lose. Kind of. You would lose the sight of your goal. For a brief moment you would see it being swept away. A result of your carelessness.

I've been there.

I've fallen.

Many times. Down the abyss.

It hurts more when you're falling down than when you finally hit the ground. It's when you see the path through your desperately outstretched palm, it hurts the most. You see it slipping away. Fading in the distance.

At least when you hit the bottom you know you've reached the low point. A point from which you can only build up. So you gather yourself. You can curse under your nose all you want. I know I have. It's a long fucking journey. You dust off your clothes and start the climb. Make your way back up again. Take a deep breath. Enter the tunnel. Try again.

It's not easy. I takes an insurmountable toll. But it's all there is. You try again. I try again.

Focus on the goal. Give it all you've got. No matter the cost. Make your way through the rain. 

FOR ME

There's just fucking NOTHING.

Only mountain tops in the distance. Never to be reached, EVER.

This is how it WORKS.

Tried many things but I CAN'T do it any longer.

Can't even SEE those mountain tops anymore.

I am lost in a dark forest. WHERE am I going?

IS THIS the right way?

I can't see SHIT.

There's nothing good GOING on.

I'LL let my head HANG in shame.

Is it time to give up MY DREAMS?

Or should I carry ON?

There are only BLACK TREES.

Everything seems to be ending, if it's not already OVER.

I'll never be THERE.

BECAUSE I lost my way.

WHAT'S THE POINT?

Nobody cares about MY LIFE.

Even I don't and it's all there IS to say.

Might just lie down and be consumed by NOTHINGNESS.

Leaving only nightmares AND fading memories.

What A WASTE.

How CAN someone continue to live like this.

Why would YOU pay attention?

PLEASE go on your own way.

It's too late for me to cry out for HELP.

Can't ask FOR THE final lifeline.

This is my LAST goodbye.

Soon I'll be forgotten by TIME.

regnA

No longer pent up inside stood there and watched the chaos It caused. Having its dormant state disrupted by yet another incident It meant nothing else but staying true to its essence. Most of the time It takes a back seat and patiently waits. Lurks on the edges and passes through shadows. Gathers its resources and builds up the strength to make a move.

A soldier that awaits the order to fire. Bullets held back in magazines leave the chamber one by one at relentless pace and fury. They pierce through everything on their path causing irreversible trauma. Rain of fire.

A dam that suddenly finds its rusty steel gates to be wide open. Tides of water that hugged the cold stone walls make their way leaving a calamity in their wake. Tides with foam at their mouths like rabid dogs. A gigantic flood.

A single word or a phrase causes the release. A trigger pulled in a split second. A valve turned in an instant.

What follows is the unmasked face of horrid. Scars from the past cover the grey skin. Veins bulge on the wrinkled and bloodied forehead. The eyes are terrifying. Their obsidian color reflects the time of repression and heavy shackles. A mad laughter leaves the mouth and turns into a vicious roar. It charges through planes without fear or remorse turning the ground into lava with its fiery steps. It emanates uncontrollable rage, waves of which bend and pull out everything in a thousand mile radius. Annihilation.

When It is done It crawls into hiding and goes back to its nest. There It revels in the destruction It caused and looks upon shame that takes its vacant place on the surface. It can bide its time again and rest in the knowledge It will be unleashed soon enough.

As for everything else... The aftermath sees the casings no longer dance on the floor and the stream of water seemingly dried out. Now that the dust has settled the scorched earth sizzles out and pillars of smoke grow thinner and thinner. Heavy rain cuts the still image of a grey sky shortly after. A distorted frame settles in and pans out revealing the tormented scape. Pain and blame can be heard stroking the strings of their sad harps in the distance. Wailing sounds invade the atmosphere, echoing through empty spaces pushing the cold air across the world. Something has to find the strength to plant the seeds of will again...

Knees

self-loathing

heavy burden

keep hoping

stops hurtin'

goes away

Stone

"Help me with this stone. Can't move the damn thing."

"That's what happens when you don't exercise. No strength."

"Yeah, yeah. Come on. Don't just sit there."

"Told you to work out sometimes. That's what you get when you ain't prepared."

"Cut the crap and push from the side."

"Nah, dude. Keep tryin'. I'm gonna sit here and eat my ice cream."

"Yeah? Hope you catch a cold then. It's not even that warm and you're eating your goddamn ice cream."

"I'm cold resistant."

"What's that even mean?"

"I'm resistant to cold. I don't catch it. Even if I was wearing one of those baseball gloves stuffed full of magnets and you just threw a metallic cold at me I wouldn't have caught it."

"Good for you. Now come on, move your ass and help me here."

"Nah. Do it yourself. Where would we be if we didn't move the stones ourselves?"

"Is that a marijuana ice cream? What the hell are you on about?"

"Think about it."

"I would if I wasn't struggling with this goddamn piece of shit rock."

"Harsh. Rock has been very influential throughout the…"

"Very funny. I would fall off a chair if I wasn't standing here. Or I would have taken that chair and…"

"Very funny. Now try the thinking thing I just introduced you to. Where would we be if we didn't move the stones ourselves? Sure we would be better off just waiting for someone to move the stones for us, huh?"

"Wouldn't be against that."

"See, that's the problem."

"Yeah? What's the problem?"

"You wanna have people moving your stones. That's not gonna get you anywhere. You'll only get screwed over. If you want the stone moved to the place you want it to be, you gotta move it yourself."

"Ain't you the philosopher. How is that gonna help me now? I just want this stone moved to the side. So right now I'd take any help I can get. Just push it a bit and I'll roll it further by myself."

"So you just want me to help you start? Let's say I'll do it. We're gonna move it and then what?"

"Then I'll be good."

"Yeah but what if you come across another one of those? And I'm not there to help ya? You gonna struggle some more and hate everything. And you'll get nowhere."

"I'm gonna shoot it with a goddamn bazooka. Yeah, that's what I'll do. I'm just gonna carry around a bazooka and shoot stones."

"Hate to break it to you pal but it's illegal to carry around a bazooka. It's also very dumb and impractical."

"Goddamn government. They got us."

"It's not the government who got you, it's your empty head. Do you wanna be stuck here forever? I wouldn't. It's gonna get dark soon."

"Not really. That's why I asked you to..."

"Yeah, but I might not be here next time. You'll just sit in front of a stone and stare at it?"

"I don't know, man. What's the alternative to bazookas?"

"Work out. Beef up and break a sweat. Own up. It's not too late to start. You only need your hands and your head to move all sorts of crap wherever you wanna."

"Knew you'd say that. I was hoping for something easier."

"It's never easy if you wanna get something right. Been there, done that. Almost got crushed when I was moving my first stone but didn't give up. Was worth it, found a vein of gold. You'll find yours eventually but it ain't gonna wait there forever. Someone else might grab it if you slack around, dude."

"Your ice cream's melting. I'm gonna try again."

The cause and effect of pain

He felt disgusted with himself.

Suppressed self-loathing and revulsion at what he’s done came rushing in like a new synthetic drug. Quickly overwhelmed by shame and guilt he looked around searching for something desperately. It wasn’t an object or a person. It was a futile search for mercy and acquittal. They were not to be granted, not tonight. He was the only one who could forgive himself and move on. But in his eyes he didn’t deserve that.

An impasse.

He didn't mean any of this to happen. He got lost in a moment. Judgement became clouded and selfishness came to the fore. Words were spoken and the damage was done. Only after taking time to settle down his emotions he realized what happened.

It wasn’t the first time. Carbon copies of such situations happen time and again and are sewn into his life like a thread in a faulty carpet. He’s done it again. He promised it won’t be repeated but as usual the promise was broken. It further drove his disappointment with himself and added another layer of suffering. It was torture.

He blamed himself. Rightly so. The shameful acts he committed loomed over everything else. Their presence lurked in shadows of his mind and hid behind thoughts and ideas. It hampered his every move like a rusty iron chain wrapped around an abandoned dog's neck.

Going back and revising events which led to those unfortunate predicaments is often his undoing. He claims he tries to learn from past mistakes and wants to improve. But there is no solace to be found in going again through this knowledge and experience. There is nothing to be gained. Not anymore. Pain and torment are the only things left.

The sole remaining way to heal the mind is to forget. It takes time. Sometimes more. Sometimes less. Always too much. Remembering is often a lot easier than letting go of unwanted memories. That’s one of the very few things he’s learned.

He never forgets completely. A reflection of his conscience haunts him at night from time to time like a ghost carrying regret and remorse in its cold, transparent hands. He shoos it away with a burning candle. Clinging to its warmth and light helps him fight his demons and survive in the darkness.

Perhaps someday he can be free from all this. He wants to and needs to. For everyone's sake. Unexplained force that drives him to commit shameful acts might evaporate. He wakes up every morning with hope that through hard work and honest dedication he can better himself and get rid of his unwanted traits. Good days that now merely jump across his life's calendar may completely overtake it. He has to believe that. There can be no punishment when there is no offence.

Above all else, he hopes the patience of person he loves won't run out before that happens...