Wednesday, March 31, 2010

Anika - Chapter One




    Chapter One

      

     The Cost of Concession









        Light.


    Dim light.                                                                                   Day light.
    Bright light.
                       Night light.                                                    
    Sun light.

                Sunlight keeps the vampires away, supposedly.
    Werewolves, too, now that he was thinking about it.

    Not to mention…
              G
           S   a   S                      
         I    u   r   i   G            
          n   c   g   r   h   T      
           c    c    o   e  o  r       
               u    u   y  n  s  o  
                  b   b    l  s. t  l      
                     i.  a   e   s. l       
                           ess.      


                       Were there werewolves in Alaska?
                                          Did they…
     …stay fuzzy?

    for weeks
    on
    end?








    Today
    New York City -- Winter



              HIS HANDS WERE trembling. The stall held the sour stench of vomit and the residual tang of urine, caked in the grit and rusting the bolts that held the toilet to the floor. It was worse where he sat, he was sure—crouched in the largest, farthest stall, his back to the wall. His shoulders were wedged between a trashcan and the porcelain bowl holding the scant contents of his stomach. It was the farthest thing from comfort, logic, or sanitation, and it was sure to ruin his suit jacket and matching pants, yet he felt not the slightest inclination to move.

    Friday, March 12, 2010

    Glass surrounds me. I stand here, watching the world pass me by without the slightest hint of cognition. Am I the outsider looking in? Or am I trapped so deep within, I choke even the sun?

    There is beauty in this place, from time to time. Worlds that fill the heart with awe, that touch the deepest regions of the soul. People with hopes, dreams, and fears all their own, with triumphs and glories unique.

    Yet if these worlds are but a product of my mind, a defense against the world outside the glass, what purpose do they truly serve? What good do they accomplish?

    Am I keeping myself here, locked away?

    Thursday, March 11, 2010

    clouds

    all this mopey frowny sad

    you'd think life was pretty bad

    truly now, things are rad

    i just really hate plaid


    up and down and all around and whoopsy daisy doodle, bet you never thought about why you love that noodle

    msg, for you and me, makes you crave that sorry stick shtick
    smear it on your groin to catch every single chick
    unless you're fem, like all of them, inverted penis bearers
    what rhymes with bearers?

    shit

    Wednesday, March 10, 2010

    not enough

    the endless cycle of settling

    misery and discontent, clawing, tearing, ruling my every waking hour, standing above me and laughing as I try and try again to scratch my way out of this existence

    every person I grow near to, every soul I draw close to mine, eventually reveals the same wretched secret

    I am addiction. I am drug. I am a bright, shining star full of hot, poisonous gas, a beautiful concept with a truth so ugly and bitter it turns the warmest smile against me.

    in truth, I could move on

    I could reach again, try once more, put myself on the line and hope for the best

    but undoubtedly, no sooner than they reach my core, they would spurn me

    I am beautiful
    I am ugly

    I am warm
    I am cold

    I am entrancing
    and I am unlovable