by edward st. joseph

Daylight entered gently through the sliver of a blue-velvet curtain, vanquishing the darkness, and revealing a new day. The rays of sunshine unveiled a king size bed in the middle of the room draped in black satin sheets. The bed sheets appeared to the eye as hills and valleys due to the outline of a body which lay beneath. Surrounding the bed were various pieces of Victorian furniture.

On the right side of the bed was an 1870’s Antique Oak Hunt board – Alexander roux style; in its shelves were glass figurines. At first glance, the colors of their prism blinded any possible view at all, but after a minute or so the colors bled into one, and the miniature marionettes took shape. The shape of a small family to be exact: a husband and wife side by side, along with a small girl trailing behind. None of this mattered of course because the family was behind closed doors and above all they were glass figurines.

On the left hand side of the bed were matching Alexander Roux Chairs. The chairs were professionally upholstered in a taupe color that was neither impressive nor dull. Side by side the chairs sat each with the appearance of emptiness, untouched for years, much like everything else in the room. In front of the bed was a vast book shelf, richly-embellished in detail, filled to capacity with books thick as dictionaries. Covered completely in dust it was, except for one area where a single book was slightly out of place. The book’s binder had no title but you could tell it was read often.

By the bedside was a Victorian Marble Top Center table. The pedestal base was exquisitely hand-carved resembling the face and body of a Griffin. Also engraved in the center table, around the entire circumference of the plank top, were faces of gargoyles. Each of the faces seemed to have secrets they couldn’t tell, each of them trying to speak, but unfortunately each of them tongue tied. On top was a wallet, a two dollar bill, some loose change, and an drivers license that read Tom Yorke, Height 5 ’10, Eyes Brown, Sex Male, D.O.B 6/28/79. However, what was most interesting about the room was a dimly lit yellowish orb on the corner of Tom’s bed.

The orb slowly began fading in and out of existence each time returning a bit more familiar to the eye; a transmutation was taking place. What was once an aberration in the back of Tom’s mind, as he lay asleep on his king size bed, was now a Monarch Butterfly flapping its wings in a methodic motion, almost rhythmically, similar to the beat of a resting heart. Up and down went the wings of the Monarch, each time they flapped, Tom would toss and turn under the sheets creating an illusion of a person drowning in an ocean no longer blue but gone black.

The rustling of bed sheets did very little to distract the Monarch. It remained still and steady on its course across this lightless-ocean. Faintly in the distance, voices and footsteps could be heard, and increased with frequency each time the Monarch flapped its wings; this time much like the beat of a restless heart. “Tom…Tom…Wake up.” A reflection of a little girl appeared in the glass doors of the Hunt board lip-syncing the words “Tom…Tom…Wake up.” At that same moment, the Monarch Butterfly took flight, and lifted itself from the corner of Tom’s bed. Straight into the reflection of the little girl it went, shattering her image into bits and pieces and dissolving the Monarch into the day glow. Once again the voice could be heard “Tom…Wake Up…Tom.” Tom’s eyes opened slowly unveiling the outline of woman dressed in a white robe; it was his wife.

“Honey…you were dreaming again” Tom sat up in bed and looked over at the glass doors on the hunt board; this time the only reflection he could see was his own. Tom was a sophisticatedly-handsome man with a face you could trust. His physique read I eat meal replacement drinks religiously for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. “Yeah I know” Tom said as he ran his fingers through his hair. “Tom…I’m here if you need to talk” motionless for a moment, Tom got out of bed, walked past his wife callously and replied “I know but the question is…would you believe me?” A flick of a switch could be heard, exposed in front of a mirror, stood Tom. He leaned into the mirror, examining himself for imperfections, in what he thought to be his perfect face.

He continued to gaze at his reflection searching for something, or anything that could possibly give him hope that change had occurred. It was at that moment he discovered one grey hair amongst all the other shady-brown strands that made up his pretentious fringe hairstyle. Tom anxiously opened a drawer and pulled out a pair of tweezers and stared back into the mirror and said “This is new…a Sign.” He plucked the gray hair out of his head and gave a slight grin that would only return to a lugubrious state as his eye caught his wrist watch displaying the time 8:15am. Tom whispered “8:15 it’s always at 8:15 and after that it’s all the same again.”

His eyes shifted to three prescription bottles that were placed in a triad. Tom picked up one of the bottles labeled Selegiline, placed it back down and picked up another labeled Galantamine, each time with a long pause in-between, never once ingesting any of the contents. The last bottle was a bit more unique, there was no prescription label, and it was entirely black. “The sun rises and the sun sets – each day I walked through this world unnoticed” he muttered to himself “but I prefer it that way – because not being a part of something is at least more tolerable of a pain than being a part of something that is now gone.” As he reached for the black prescription bottle, he heard a voice slither in from behind “Running from a shadow you do, something I hold onto, perched on your window sill, trust in me you will.”

Out of shock Tom dropped the prescription bottle scattering several white pills on the floor. Each of the white pills were engraved with Watson 357 others with a letter V. “Not again…this time it’s different…this time it’s different…It has to be, it just has to be” he said repeatedly as he picked up the pills and intently placed them back in the bottle except for a handful which he clenched tightly in a fist. Tom raised his fist to his head closing his eyes, attempting to gather himself, whispering aloud “The past is done…I am the resurrection, and the life; he that believes in me, though he were dead, yet he shall live.” And proceeded to say “I want…I want and I want…it’s always about the past is done…” Tom reclined back against the cabinets below the sink trembling like a lost lamb without a Sheppard to guide him home.

Well, that was the first three pages of my short-story. The rest will later be published online and will be apart of a compilation entitled Midnite after Dawn : 3 Tales from the Other Side

-edwardstjoseph

My love walks in

Open Toe Shoes

She made a fool of everyone

We broke the rules

Cloudy going in and sunny day out

The bed is waiting for its lovers

My love walks in

Steel Stilettos

You made a believer of them all   

SeXXi Bedclothes

Hard to understand, easy to figure out.

There’s much more to discover

Naughty Nicole

I made the drive

Naughty Nicole

Straight thru Thibodaux

Naughty Nicole

How did you know?

I gave her everything to be the one

Her back against the wall for all to see

Oh Naughty Nicole

Where did it go?

Where can it be?

My love walks out

Tear in her eye

Are hearts run about

On our way Home

We promised not to cry

My Love walks out

Lonely Long Roads

Within and without

On our way Home

Our memories are sold

Nicole don’t walk out

Naughty Nicole

Whatever it is you think you are

Naughty Nicole

Sitting in your boudoir

Naughty   Nicole

From the streets of Chef Montreux

Oh baby what you forgot you’d never know

Naughty Nicole

We’re on our way Home.

During the 90’s I spent a lot of time chasing women, chasing good-times, chasing time itself, and getting educated on life in my own way. Each song marks a memorable memoir for me at that time. As Prince would say “I was dreaming when I wrote this…so forgive me if it goes astray”

1990
• Vogue – Madonna
• Cradle of Love – Billy Idol
1991
• One – U2
• Around the Way Girl – LLCoolJ
1992
• Damn I wish I was your lover – Sophie Hawkins
• Jump Around – House of Pain
1993
• Two Princes – Spin Doctors
• Pets – Porno for Pyros
1994
• Closer – Nine Inch Nails
• The more you ignore me – Morrissey
1995
• Between Planets – The Jesus and Mary Chain
• You Oughtta Know – Alanis Morsette

1. “Vogue” – Madonna (1990) OMG. So I was out of the 8th grade and heading into this thing called “High School.” FINALLY, a place where it’s ok to look at girl’s boobs, that’s correct, BOOBS. I was no longer subject to the risks associated with being caught by my parents with a playboy centerfold fold-out; high school now offered a place where raging hormones were sanctioned. I was a late bloomer in high school; it seemed like everyone was getting laid except for me, and this level of frustration was reaching a boiling point that could not be measured by any means. Naturally, I was like WTF on the inside, but on the outside I was like “Yeah, I’ve done it before” and then there was the reply “Oh yeah, so what did it feel like?” Before I can mumble out some white lie, the school bell rings, class dismissed. OK OK….point being, I was young and horny, and Madonna wore a see-thru outfit in this video. SIGH…being young how do I miss you.

2. “Cradle of Love” – Billy Idol (1990) Ahhh what memories – it was a sunny day in Austin, TX and I’m doing my regular 5 hour shift as a carry out at HEB. High school freshman year ended and I had 90 days of “whatever the fuck I wanted to do.” While I was soaking up the sensation of becoming a sophomore, little did I know, I was being watched by a girl; Tanya Griffin – This girl came into HEB every day and purchased various unnecessary items, such as gum, soda, and even stamps, just to get a look at me (Now these are her words not mine) One day we finally made eye contact, I asked for number, and so on. To sweeten the deal further, SHE WAS A FRESHMAN IN COLLEGE. I felt like Dustin Hoffman in the film “The Graduate”. One day, she called me at work, and said “Hey can you take a break?” Naturally I said yes, walked outside, my jaw dropped when she pulled up in her red Miata convertible. Looking Amazing-sexxi she said “Let’s go for a spin.” You can see where I’m going with this.

3. “One” – U2 (1991) – During the transition of freshman into sophomore, without failure, you will always hear the “I liked you in 9th grade but I didn’t think you liked me”, but not me not this time, I got lucky. I met Anna Valentine; my first girlfriend. She was different, mature and her beauty was natural, not superficial as many of the girls I was going for at the time. Also, she was my first kiss. I think this was the first and last time the word LOVE had any real feeling to it. I fell for her hard and she fell out fast. Till this day I don’t know why, maybe because she was a freshman in college, maybe we were on different planets, or maybe she knew she was going to hurt me. Either way, I still think about her till this day. What’s really sad about it all was that I wanted so bad for it to never end, or for me to never forget. I mean, I thought this was the One, then again everybody thinks that way in high school ….but the more I held on to her, the further she got away. Eventually, with time, I forgot about her, until right now. Even though I remember I don’t remember.

4. “Around the way girl” – LLcoolJ (1991) – Rap/Hip-Hop was emerging with great strength in the early 90′s and I was slowly getting turned on to it myself. I noticed when I would go out on a date with a girl, she didn’t always wanna hear some “HARD JAMS” so Rap/Hip-Hop artists such as LL Cool J, Hi-C, and Slick Rick made rap music appealing to both men and women. I remember driving and passenger side was the most beautiful girl, at the time to me, in the world. She sure was an “Around the Way Girl.” Her name was Shelly. We would take late night drives with the windows down, holding hands, listening to our favorite tunes till about 4am. And if I was lucky, at the end of the night I would get a kiss; Days and Nights with Shelly made for some of the best memories.

5. “Damn I wish I was your lover”- Sophie B. Hawkins (1992) You know what I love about having a crush on someone? The way it crashes. Besides that, I always thought she said “I’d F***K ya till the daylite comes.” Oh Sophie and your crafty use of duplicity in your songs. This song takes me back to a time in my life when I was living with two women (both sisters) and I was dating one of them, and wanting the other. SIGH Love triangles not good…WAIT! I think I can interject a song into this “Bizarre Love Triangle” by New Order. Nice…a Hidden Track in my writing. Ok Ok so it’s technically not a “Hidden Track” like some artists record in their albums. Sometimes I wonder were my 90’s riddled with horniness and being SUPER HIGH on blow or popping a BIG X-tabs??!?!? Well, I can answer that like the “Tootsie Roll Commercial from the 80’s”….The World May never know.

6. “Jump” - House of Pain (1992) – LOL this song reminds of a buddy I use to know in high school, for the sake of saving him the embarrassment of what I’m about to say, I will call him Scott. He would play this song over and over again, while we would go in search for a party that would always end as soon as we arrived. I learned three things from this song: 1. Do not go to a party with Scott. 2. The 90’s sparked songs, from Anglo Artists with “One cuss word” in them. For example: this song itself, then there is “Jeremy” by pearl jam, Pink “Let’s get the party started” and so on. Was this the beginning of Rap/hip-hop/Hardcore metal influence and the crossover to fuse Rap Rock or Rap Core? Either way, I eventually partied while this song was on….and YES we all jumped around – Whata ya expect? We were loaded.

7. “Two Princes” – Spin Doctors – (1993) You know, I’m not much a fan of this song. As a matter of fact, I remember watching this video on MTV and feeling indifferent about it. I mean, it didn’t suck and it wasn’t good. The song is Sorta like cream of corn “Yeah you can put it on my plate, but I might not eat it.” It was just tolerable enough to listen to, so I could eventually hit the number one video on MTV’s top twenty or move on to MTV2 and watch some SONIC Youth. And as I listen to this song again, I’m feeling blah…maybe it’s the lead singer who apprarently enjoys dressing like some Sherpa from a Tibetan mountain top. Thanks SPIN DOCTORS for teaching me tolerance.

8. Porno for Pyros “Pets” (1993)
“Pets” inflamed a temperament in me that I didn’t know existed. This song marked a rebellious transition in my life. With each passing year of high school, I slowly began to discover that all we are, were, and will be are pets to a culture whose society is built on the bones of a dying world. A culture whose society are slaves to the conventional “Check-out aisle Tabloid Malarkey.” Then I wondered was it the hint of Jane’s Addiction in this Song that produced such a raw emotion in me? Or was it the idea of realizing too late that I was a pet myself, and that self-actualization is a result of a true awareness? Even when one thinks, he or she, is aware of awareness how can they be sure? SIGH…the rebellious years of growing up finding yourself. Good Times.

9. “Closer” – NIN (1994) – And now back to my days as a carry-out at H.E.B. It was summertime, the month of June to be exact. Each summer, boys and girls would flock to their nearest grocery store, music shop, and or ice-cream parlor in hopes for employment. This meant, for those of us already employed, fresh meat. For me that meant Traci. I remember walking into H.E.B and right before I clocked in, our eyes locked. As the J. Geils Band said “My Blood Runs Cold” my memory was definitely sold. We did double takes as we parted to different ends of the store. My birthday was coming up at the end of June and I wanted to ask her out. So I did, and so we had a date the night before my birthday which was incredible. On the date she asked me what I wanted for my bday. I said “I know this is crazy, but I always wanted to eat a McDonalds BIG MAC while getting a strip-tease show/lap dance.” She said “You’re in luck… (A lump formed in my throat) I strip at Sugar’s Cabaret as my night job.” The next day, I drove to her apt, picked up a value meal (ate the fries first) and walked into her place. “Closer” was queued and ready for the show. Ahh…the memories XOXOX for you Traci.

10. “The more you ignore me, the closer I get” – Morrissey – (1994)
After high school graduation, thanks to the help of Jacob Juarez, I landed a job selling home audio at Sears Roebuck. It was there where I met Monica Naples, who just moved to Austin, TX. Monica and I already had something in common right off the bat; she needed a roommate and I wanted to move out of my folk’s home. Sounds like a perfect scenario right? Well, we move in together and eventually started dating. One day, Monica informs me that her sister Rachel is moving to Austin, TX and is looking for a place to stay. We agreed to let her move in since we had an extra bedroom and splitting the rent would be beneficial to everyone. The day Rachel moved in, was like a slow-motion cliché shot of the “HOT CHICK” in a movie while “The more you ignore me, the closer I get” played in the background. Needless to say, this entire situation became very interesting.

11. “Between Planets” – The Jesus and Mary Chain – 1995 (Release of song 1989) I know this song was not released in 1995, but this is the year I discovered The Jesus and Mary Chain. I owe this discovery to two wonderfully-amazing friends; their names are Sean Mossman and Jacob Juarez. It was the summer of 95 and Marci Beck dumped me after high school graduation for a college guy. Naturally, I was down in the dumps, and cried a river to my buds. A few days later, I get a page on my beeper (Yes, that’s correct PAGE ON THE BEEPER) it was Sean. So I call him back and here is what he had to say in his “John Shaft” voice, and I quote “Eddie…don’t let know Ho get you down.” INSERT Smile on my end, as he continues “Jacob and I are taking you out man, meet us at my house.” I go over; Sean and Jacob are sitting in Sean’s Maxima poised and ready, looking like The Beasties Boys in the video “Sabotage.” I get in the backseat; Jacob looks turns and says, in his Michael Madsen voice, “Love Stinks.” Sean’s Maxima speeds off “Between Planets” by The Jesus and Mary Chain blares on his CD player as the first beer bottle catapults out the car’s moon roof with many more to come.

12. “You oughta Know” – Alanis Morissette (1995) During the middle of the decade known as the 90’s, women were reclaiming their voice in music with artists like Alanis, Tracy Chapman, Natalie Merchant, Liz Phair and so on. When this CD came out, I remember tons of my friends saying “Did you hear what she said in the song?!?!?” and did you hear the other part “Going down in a theater!!!?!!?!?” Simultaneously, I was also going through a “Reclaiming” moment myself. What was I to do now after the summer of Senior Year?!? I needed to find my voice, find out what I wanted to do with myself in this thing we call life. I needed to speak my mind like these ladies were doing in their music. I needed to get my point across. Eventually I did, but I guess I will save that for another “Soundtrack of my Life.”

by edward st. joseph

In these long exhausted efforts, I have developed some rather unappealing opinions of my self and that of people. First off, I will attack my weak sense of self-actualization. As a child I never understood the meaning of happiness. While viewing other people walk around all day with smiles on their faces, living with a false sense of knowing themselves, I began to realize that being impulsive and restless is how they truly are: impulsive and restless, like hungry-primal animals grown agitated and upset from the heat that surrounds them.

For if these people were truly happy would they not, regret the years gone by, live in the past, wonder what if, or would they simply just focus themselves on the problem instead of the people in the problem. For instance, take viewing yourself through someone else, he or she can easily pick out what you are feeling, needing, wanting and the changes that may have occurred in your life. Although, these observations are based solely on the opinion of others, however, these opinions are a truthful reflection of your personal conduct, mirrored by the people that you are and that who you are viewing. Accepting these opinions and working to change, could truly answer ourselves in the middle of uncertainty. Live like animals that have grown accustomed to their environment, have learned the ways, and finally accept the fact that life is impulsive, restless, and to act upon these sensations before they leave you like life leaving a dying man. For me, I tend to focus my energy on the problem than the people. It is crucial to understand that when you focus on the problem, it tends to bring about this negative energy, it also may bring out a side in you that would be better off left alone.

Focusing on the problem will cloud your judgment, disable your compromising abilities, render you helpless in a crowd of support, and finally tear apart the one thing that is of value, your soul.
You see the problem offers a more tangible form of melodramatic excitement, with out this tragedy how can we possibly have happiness, with out a problem in our life, we feel victim to not having a solution. A “feel good crutch”, a sadly supported superficial way of living in a stagnant life, while working hard to search for that tangible drama, only to be afforded a repeated cycle to which we say ” I am never going to do that again”

For example, the drug-addict, what does he have to offer? A reflection of what we would not want to be, or is the addict a reflection of what we really are; a society of self-serving, incongruous, dispensable human beings, because truthfully we view a person who has the qualities of a drug-addict as dispensable, incongruous, and most definitely self-serving. The main difference would be that the addict does what he or she wants, while the audience whishes to be that glorified figure, to be able to do what he or she wants with out prejudice.

It seems that the older that I get; the more and more people want to surround themselves with others, struggling to hold on to whatever remnants of the past exist in their future. But I cant say anything to them, since all I do is look at the smallest frame of the picture and never see it all, and seems that there is nothing that pleases me or if there is, I spend the majority of the day dwelling on the darkest corners of my mind; while through the mist of my eyes she lives, bringing in the light to my fortress embedded in the childhood of my mind. Once again the smallest part of the big picture, still lying to myself about it all.

The only thing that sometimes makes me feel good is the sensation that a joint generates, the feeling that I get when I get to act like someone else in front of a crowd, or what we would call happy hour, or any reason to get drunk. To be bring a group of people together and then practice self indulgent acts of “how was your week” or “So what did you guys do this weekend.” While all I do is nod and smile, react when to react, watch sudden jesters, comments, who has gone to the bathroom who hasn’t, create what if scenarios in my head, suggesting and assuming others personalities, and whether or not they or would I sleep with them. Then I stop in the middle of it all and think…am I crazy, possibly a rapist, murderer, or someone who has never learned or had love. I hold images of those I desire in my head as tangible memories ready for me to touch, smell and see as long as my eyes are closed. But soon as I open those eyes my harsh reality hits in, I am just like them, I am nothing more or special, just an over active imagination that pretends to be someone he is not, that is the way it has always been. Confusion, youth, stupidity, are no longer reasons.

So I wasn’t sure if I had come to terms with what I believed, or if I was content living such a dichotomy, of personalities. It must COME DOWN TO A BOTTOMLINE-NESS so I can come back from where I have gone.

This morning the skies were pink and bleu
The ocean shook, The earth moved
I lose my thoughts I lost my way
Screaming like a happy boy
Saying I’m in love with you.

Last nite stuck in a day dream
My mind couldn’t see, My eyez couldn’t believe
Nothing is the same nothing is for real
Lost in a movie scene
Wishing I’m in love with you

Everynite I hear you dream
Catching my breath, holding your heart
Believing all I feel is what you bring
Believing all I hear is what you sing
But this is no home

Today standing alone, crying in the rain
Tears so sincere no one’s to blame
Sitting side by side, Walls we couldn’t climb
Screaming like a baby boy
Missing all the signs

Tonite breaking apart, remembering you
Holding one more time for the last
Being next to you, Being next to me
Falling into love, Falling too Fast
Lost in your heart, Lost in you

Drowning the words with the wrong thing to say
So delicate the sound as the dream falls apart
Looking towards the sky, Running to you
We’re Fading to black, Fading into pink and bleu

Everynite I hear you dream
Waiting at your door, holding your key
Believing all I see is real
Believing all I touch I feel
But this is no home
No, this is no home

by edward st. joseph

Sleep was impossible last nite, or many of the past nites for that matter. At times I found myself looking around at my 4 walls that I’ve to come know as my home. As I look around, many of these ancient artifacts are completely unfamiliar to me. Unfamiliar, like a lover you haven’t seen in awhile, who bumps into you in the middle of the nite while you’re dreaming wide awake; there’s something there but in reality there is nothing there.

          How could it be that these relics are supposed to remind me of a thing called childhood; that these trinkets of time are supposed to bring a KOOL AID SMILE TO my face. How is that I ask? Truth be told, I can only remember from age 10 till now. So maybe it doesn’t matter, perhaps these vestiges lingering in my home are only forced superstitions of society solidified by the people we call: parents, friends, family, government, authority, all of it being symbols of both freedom and fear. And the time past is now only regurgitated false memories resting on an oar lost at sea, a part of a once prestigious battle ship, now only wreckage and debris scattered for many miles, leaving a forgotten message in a bottle drifting and eventually landing ashore.

I find this bottle and read what has come to pass and I begin to wonder. Wonder about what I am, or who I thought I was going to be, or be what I thought I am, or finally become who all of us are; an indirect representation of a fable unfolding, not morals or lessons, but a frequency that must be clear, and only then, can the beast be released and all we have come to know will be right before us. Even when presented with such a fantastical-illusion, I still come to one basic conclusion, that I’m still not sure who or what it is I am; until this suicide is pure, assumptions are made, we act as we see in order for us to know what we feel – El SPIRITUS SANCTI . Perchance that last hydroponic-mushroom-bologna sandwich pushed me overboard (Thinking about it) Nah.

           I’m confident of one thing, however, that a Higher Being, an effigy created by many, is responsible for the reasons I breathe, love, hate, and live. As my self-descriptive dream once told me when I was awake “I’m a living organism, which many years of: drinking, drugs, self destruction, the occasional attempt at the taking over the world, and on Sundays helping a kitten from a tree, has made me who I am.” But I have a hard time distinguishing if the voices in my head are right, or if the voices that come out of my head thru my mouth are right, or if this message really has any meaning at all. One thing is clear, known, and factual. Life is a deeper darker order of things, a series of events, which are hidden below the surface and only rise to breathe the air of synchronous collisions allowing us to believe. So bring forth your commandments, bring forth your scripture, bring forth your gospel, bring forth your Pseudo-Sire of religious rhetoric and watch it dwindle away as you search blindly in a sea of fire for that oar holding your fractured-faith and broken-beliefs afloat; while you drown from the hypocrisy of who you are. (Maybe I should stop chewing on this cocaine leaf? Maybe that last white LINE was too much too fast?) Thinking about….nah

The second part of this message depicts a man walking onto the surface from the sea eventually ending up at a white door without a knob and a black key in his pocket. His thoughts drift in and out of reality, much like mine, his glibness- superficial charm is much like mine, and yet we are miles, if not years, if not universes away – VERITAS TENEBRAE. Each of us on opposite sides of the door, simultaneously we enter, and exit together but on separate parallels we call our world; I was gone and back again that same day. How we opened it, I don’t know, what was on either side, I can’t remember, but together we are separate and when we are separate we are one, much like a servant to a master, however, this time we serve a darker purpose. Silently, I now sit, in the back of your mind profiling you as my next victim. I’m standing in line with you, waiting for the next bank teller, or maybe lying next to you in bed looking you down and up; angrily killing you with my thoughts and desperately desiring to touch you with my hands. Gripping your throat seductively and sinisterly in my mind, suffocating you slowly, I mumble into your ears how the murder will take place. I control you now. You dance for me like marionette puppets on the foothills of insanity; while resting in my hands of fate. As I keep reading, the message continues to deliver; conversations held in the dark, close to home and close to heart. I am not the killer. However, I do believe that at times I’m being murdered over and over again, in a private night mare I share with all that dream each and every night; an unintended consequence suffered from walking through the white door. 

          The third and final part of this message, has taken me back to 1588 upon The Spanish Armada. I spent time on deck, observing thru the eyes of its red cell skeleton crew. I witnessed horrific carnage, mayhem, and chaos created by these ever-burning spirits who light up the sky with wind-talkers of their own, delivering their own doctrine of death, rowing and screaming madly through the waves of our mind.  I spent time with its captain cutting throats on an endless spree, never knowing the consequence, can make things all that more exciting.  At any rate, like many fantastically-phenomenal INTENSE DRUG ALTERED STATES (did you like all that in caps I do because I am TRIPPING hARD RiTe now) it has to come to an end.  At bay my mind is held hostage: thoughts, words, desires, fears, and its overdressed government with outdated uniforms and opinions offering false hope to banishing barnacles called sailors, are all being held hostage by me.  I no longer have a Ticket to MARs, my body is now tired and it now searches for rest…MY GOD MAN..SLEEP. Fortunately for everyone here, I have lost myself in an everlasting stream of unconsciousness, created without my knowledge, moving from the inside out, it meshes into one big persona, a persona that is larger than me, Something so LARGE that even its creator can no longer keep the beast contained, a hunger everlasting into the darkest corner of your fears: for an IDEA can never be killed; FOR I AM ROCK N ROLL HIGH ON COCAINE

 No longer do I understand the secrets in our Souls, I thought to myself, as I stared at Death in the rear view mirror whom was alive and kicking. Unsure I was of how she became my dark passenger on this midnight drive, but we had miles to go, and the clock was ticking. At a Stop Light, Death observed millions of people walking along the sidewalks of their lives, and grinned with entertainment one last time as she spoke out “Funny how humans think they’re queens and kings – when they’re actually Angels with Devils wings.” I interrupted Death and said “My dear good Woman, here is something you haven’t seen, a place where you haven’t been, a place where you can finally dream.” 

We were close to the front door of her greatest fear; Heaven. When we arrived-Death exited my vehicle so eloquently and elegantly; like a movie starlet on the red carpet. She halted and turned to say “At any cost would it be too much to ask if we stopped and chat with Robert Frost?” She smiled and motioned with a finger to follow, and began to shuffle down these forgotten gates to a freedom, that only I could understand, and a beat she could only hear. “We could do something better, we can sit under the Brooklyn Bridge with Joseph Heller.” I replied as we danced a Harlem Shuffle side by side.

 We continued down this transcendental street hand in hand, through hills, over mountains, across rivers, finally reaching the fields of heaven. “I haven’t been here before, although familiar, no wonder am I abhorred. A beacon so they can find their way ashore, only to have ache in their voices, as I close the door.” I marveled at Death as she spoke and I added “No longer will you be, a master of fate and disaster, unfortunate it’s time to close this chapter. And from this moment on and after your days will be spent in azure.” Full of displeasure and distemper, at the sound of my word, she waved her hand and turned the ambrosial field into a theater of the absurd.

 I stood aghast, but charmed, as she continued this execrable exhibition. Her hands were reaching towards the heavens for words that would never come down. She asked me “Can you hear the marching…the gospel of everyone?  Angels singing, virgins in the dungeon, no one can run. In the darkest corner voices calling and voices dying young.” I tried as hard as I could, but that symphony of music she heard would not grace the audience of a non-believer. “Until our destination, I cannot hear Drake’s Drum; we are too far from Plymouth shore.  Wait we will for the watchman, seraphim you become, perched on God’s Throne so no longer can you cast War.” Death ignored my words, and continued to wave her hands to the heavens like a maestro of her macabre, and ordered her pseudo symphony to decrescendo and stated “Can you smell the Carrions all around? Can you see time passed and the Hespers Fallen down? Can you my Lost Lamb? Scribes at each corner of the land with scripture once forgotten now found. Ghost ships side by side, lovers tongue tied, brought here to die.”

 I spoke not a word for Death had struck a vein of sympathy in me. Her long white veil drugged my senses, perhaps I was too foolish to see, or perhaps not ready to see what Death Saw, or perhaps not ready for Death at All. To this I uttered “Disheartened am I by your tears, but the prophets and seers, whisper deplorably and dreadfully I reminded, and  your darkened corner once existed; are you now confined in, leaving your corpse barren and twisted.”  Her eyes saddened and her soul weakened at the sound of my words; it was time for her to come home.

 The Black Cloak Worn by Death turned into bones, bones into flesh, until the only thing that remained was an elderly woman shaking and trembling of the Cold Blackness she once was. Her face, now prolonged and fixed stared out the window, possibly at all the regrets that walked before her, possibly all the things never accomplished, but something in her wonder said it was the life she never lived a life she will miss. At that particular moment, a single teardrop fell from her eye, as the tear drop fell across her cheek; her skin became radiant like Gods only White Dove. The elderly woman wiped the tear away from her eye, and let her hand fall beside. Her hand opened and out fell a white feather. I watched the feather fall gently to the ground and I kneeled down to pick it up for the elderly woman. But when I came back up she was gone, vanished without a trace, the Elderly woman Finally Found Peace with Death.