We’ve all experienced that familiar descent into a never ending slumber, even craved it. An inevitable free fall. A way down from this world into the black abyss of nothing and everything. A complete, untethered release from all of this life’s restraints straight down.
I would sit with my notebooks and pens and they would paint entire planes of existence almost as if they had their own intentions and purpose and I was the instrument being utilized. Now the the ink has dried…
I’m totally suffering this morning: Kids, breakfast, Christmas Eve, laundry, dishes, secretly gathering/wrapping presents (okay, maybe this is more the wife than me), etc. Sometimes the holiday vacation days seem like more work than actually going to work–SCREAMS! BANGS! MORE SCREAMS! “DAAAAAD!”
I just woke up from one of the coolest dreams I’ve had in a while. When my alarm brought me out of it I just laid there with my eyes closed hoping for a chance to slip back into my unconscious trance. I poured over the details of the dream trying to reconstruct the world I knew was quickly slipping away from my tethered hold on reality. The details slowly came back to me as a soft pinprick of light blossoming in the dark, the Big Bang of my astral plane.
Comfy, sunshine yellow illumination filled my vision slowly dampening revealing
It’s one of my favorite quotes from one of my favorite fictional characters, Hank Moody, played by David Dochuvny on the hit Showtime series Californication. I’m sure that’s not where the quote originated but its meaning is all the same: ejecting toxic materials, whether they be physical or metaphorical, from the self to clear the mind, cheat death, and ward off insanity. I suppose that’s how writers stay sane and exactly what I was doing in my last post. I got the poison out, healthily and indirectly…
You see, for a long time
I dream of killing you, my hands entwined around your pale throat, veins bulging from your face like writhing worms, blood vessels bursting lightning strikes across the whites of your eyes as the last breath escapes your cold lips. You are the inheritor of my vengeance, the murderer of my innocence, the keeper of the key to my prison of rage. Fury flows like fire through my veins at the faintest whisper of your name just as a spell from a wizard’s lips ignites the æther into being.
You’ll never know the sting of an empty home, the