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FEBRUARY 7, 2013 3:37AM


Rate: 17 Flag

I cannot sleep.

When I sleep, I dream improbable things that seemingly could become probable.

Come dance with me under the pale moonlight, never let me go....


I stood outside in the field, the darkness embracing me, keeping me company.

I knew not what I was, but I was, and still am.

I am lost, somewhere, everywhere, nowhere, I feel nothing but everything...

There wasn't a plan, never was, just living life as it was our last day, we would cry, till there were no tears left to cry, then settle onto the ground, hearing our breath escaping from our body.



Soon, the world was spinning around us once more, as we stayed in place. 

"Where are you?"

Voices, around me, asking, telling, speaking, whispering, shouting, screaming, dying on the vine, then nothing, silence.

I can't stand my own mind, my own body, spirit gone, life wasted, who are we to question anything?

Stood up, reached up, danced around fiercely, the tears are gone, the weeping is done, I cannot laugh.

The technicians are drunk, killing off the world, one by one, keeping alive the madness, to keep the machinery going, grinding, tearing, killing, repeating the process, silently, loudly, we all begin, we all end, there is no stopping, beginning, just moving forward,  forward into the teeth.



The teeth grind us into bitter waste, tearing us into dust.

I cannot bear the silence, cannot bear the loudness, cannot witness, cannot see, cannot hear, would not hear, the times are going, passing me by, whispers flowing throughout my ears.

Tunes inside, singing out loud, no words.

According to the world, this will get easier, up a hill, down a valley, into a river, to drown, to gasp, to fight the waves to the shore, where the gun men stay, waiting to shoot me dead.

Talking to myself, whispers in the dark: Names, dates, all mixed into a toxic dream that keeps repeating, nothing seems to help, the doctors all say I am sane, keep moving, don't stop, don't look back, forward, forward, ever forward, wake up, don't listen to the nightmares, fiction, purely fiction.

Henry, my friend, where are you now that I need you?


At sixteen.

Forty one, still a few more months or years to the grave.

The darkness wishes to envelope me, hold me, embrace me, I want to dance in the middle of the night, holding her, embracing her, kissing her, making love to her under the pale moonlight.

Silence in the middle of the night, no tears, no sighs, perfect quiet, seamless stockings on the midnight hour.

Damn you life, damn you death, help! Where are you?

No sounds, no reply, this is the best part of the trip, according to the doctor at the free clinic.

"No meds my friend! You are okay, just keep moving, straight ahead, but watch out for the wall, it comes up quick!"

Stupid doctors, with their terms of endearments, they keep asking, "How do you feel?" I feel fine, I feel great, soft pillow under my head, cozy blanket for my body.

Where was Jack?

On the Road?

Heading west, out west, warmth, walking on the beach?

Dead, nothing left but some words, would that be all I would leave?


Nothing more, possibly?

More than possible.  People were dreaming on the land where their father began and they shall end.

Night comes, darkness still there, waiting, to hold me.

Nobody knows what will happen now, will they grow old?

Or blow away like dust in the wind?

Some people stand outside, waiting for a bus, to run them down; they do not get out of the way, standing there, staring straight ahead, worrying not for want, just standing, waiting, no fear, nothing, this is the end?


Choices to be free, to be dead, to be alive, choices in the way to get out, to be free, walking a thin line on the edge, one misstep, fall to your death.

Pieces of life spread to the wind, to collect in the sky, to fall to the ground, to grow a tree, or block out the sun.

The tourists wander in, smile, take a picture, walk away, leaving the scene, polluting it with their cackles, with their songs.

Pieces of peace, black light on the soul, revealing all, revealing nothing, crap on the window sill, old man weeping for lost children he never fathered but who haunt him forever, just outside the door.

The doors of perception closed, nobody outside, knocking to be let in, mindless wanderings on a deserted beach, hometown blown away by an atom bomb.

Reach, reach into the sky, pull down the stars, blanketed by them, the moon as a pillow, sleep forever, never to awake, never to stir, the silence of the universe screams out...

I shall not look into your eyes again, I shall never forget your smile, never forget you....sweet embrace, lost in a romance, wishing for one last kiss, one last taste, love, making love, giggling, laughing, sighing, dancing in the summer rain, embracing each other, holding one another, one more everything.

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How fine it is that you have such glorious memories to take with you into whatever the future brings your way. They will bring you joy among your tears and strength that only grows from great loss. You carry her within you. It is your time to nurture her and in doing so, keep her alive in your memory. Best to you my friend.

(*PS, I left some Fancy Feast & Cream by the back steps.*)

This is beautiful and sad and troubling, such a whirl of complex emotions and questions about life and the universe. I wish I had some words of wisdom to offer. I wish I could make you feel better. All I can say is that we are with you, all of us, wandering and wondering and sometimes raving, too. You are not alone.
Dear Tink. You are sitting on the edge of the abyss, dangling your legs over the side, looking down. That is your seat for awhile. There are times when we get sent to live in the woods all alone for a period of time. In some religions, this is even a requirement, for shamans, young men, monks. The reasons become evident later on, and what you learn, you will never know how to talk about. I'm not a religious person, but I think this is faith. Sitting on the edge of the abyss, looking down, without flinching or squirming, just holding a steadfast gaze, no matter what, and believing in the abyss.

P.S. for some reason, abyss-sitting has to happen at night. You are allowed to have a cup of cocoa while you sit though.
This is a heart breaking, beautiful piece, Tink. I know it is no comfort to you now, but you are growing as a writer. Choose life , my friend. You have so much to offer. R
I just want to give you a hug. I hope you have people around who do.
Sometimes all we can hope for is senility, but even I'm sure that will be a bitch and leave behind nothing but bad memories, stealing all of the good ones away. Hugs, Tink.
You will surive this nightmare. R.
One more everything....I want that too. I don't like this death stuff. You are a genius writer. Thanks for putting it out there.
Hardly random, my friend, but rather focused writing and brilliant. Don't feel obligated to listen to people who tell you what you don't want to hear. Know this though, it's not that it gets better, or that you feel the pain less, it's more like walking uphill. After days and days of doing it, you just build up enough stamina to do it well.
sky, mmmm mmmmm good!! Memories is what keeps us going, the good with some bad thrown in so it doesn't seem so sit com like!! ~nodding~ :)

Alysa, I am not alone!! ~Group hug~

heron, mmmm, hot chocolate!! With lots of marshiemallows!!!! :)

Gerald, thank you kind sir, writing has been helping me!! ~nodding~

jl, I get hugs! LOVES THE HUGS!! ~huge hug~

theig, yeah, don't want that, want the memories, nothing without them. ~nodding~

**huge hug**

Lyle, I will survive!! ~nodding~ I am surviving!!!

zanelle, death needs to take a holiday or three!! ~nodding even more~ I even pay!!!!

nilesite, then I get to sit down and have hot chocolate?? HURRAY!! :)

**more group hugs**
you cant bear the silence
is why u let the voices in..

THE GOOD NEWS IS that this awful truth will make you a master
at writing:
'Choices to be free, to be dead, to be alive, choices in the way to get out, to be free, walking a thin line on the edge, one misstep, fall to your death."
Tink this was absolutely a masterpiece. A beautifully written flow of feelings. Rated
This is the most beautiful thing I have ever seen from you. Keep writing and telling us how it really feels. I love ya, buddy.

toritto, exactly!! We keep moving forward, with tears in our eyes!

James, it has prompted me to write, that's for sure!! ~nodding~

Mical, thank you kind sir!!!!!

L, will keep writing!! Loves ya too!! ~hug~

Trudge, thank you my friend!