Next week is better.

As I slip through the cracks, on the floor of a moving bus I find my eyes have glazed over. How long have I been unaware of the moving surrounding and where are we now? Was I responding to my texts or merely grazing through them, giving whatever autopilot was capable of communicating. Silence. Where am I? This is something out of a horror film, or it would be if darkness covered the windows I’m living in a separate space of reality. How far will I go before my sanity slips away from me entirely? Before I’m left as nothing but a shell. It’s not depression, it’s just something that’s pierced me to the core and I can’t shake it.

Good afternoon.

There is a safe haven for the fallen,                                                           and one morning I looked out my window and saw the sun,                         I saw the sun before it even began to rise, when the light was non-         existent.

Forgive me. 

Life is cruel and yet without a thought it continues to exist, beyond whatever stone you might’ve stumbled upon.                                                Nothing persists through fire,                                                                        and hence we quench the flames.

How terrible a realization this has come to be with no thought left to trace it, dull the existence and the light will dim.                                                 

Who is to ask for sun in the dead of winter but those who can’t appreciate the cold?                                                                                                     It catches onto skin and finds a way through fingertips, death is never too far behind                                                                                                   An isolated season with a past conquered and a future to fear.                   Merry weather, good wishes to all who brave the storm. 

of the distance, and I feel that none of us are all that sustainable. So why even try? Perhaps there is something deeper that you’re trying to find? But I can’t save you. 

Look elsewhere, in women there is no God. Unless God himself is in that woman and then you’ve met the right one, but you’re looking for him between my legs and i’m tired. 

If you feel the need for fulfillment the door is that way, and i’ll be sure to turn the lock as I close it behind you. Because if that is the case there is nothing I can do to help you, lets not waste our time. 

We’re more than objects but all you see is the use and i’m tired of the tossing and turning. The restless nights, the nightmares of such abuse and i’m losing my own vision. The fact that you manage to be so barely effected makes my skin crawl and with the life I have left, i’ll use it to take your breath into mine. 

No one escapes unscathed. 

Last night I dreamed of blood. I dreampt that the sky was dark and the stars were shinning. Reflecting Light, though I was in the midst of darkness.

I became enraptured by water, completely surrounded. And then the surroundings changed, and people were all around. Women in Bikinis and men in swim shorts and glasses, a hint of retro in the air.

Where was I? I was there, passing a beach ball to and fro with an unseen face and surprising talent. Caught up in my game, listening to the conversations around me.

But ohh, and there he was, right beside the pool, drinking some sort of over dramatized martini with a tilt to his lean stance. He was speaking, slow and calm. He was speaking of his profession and his interests.

And his words made my skin run cold. He was something less than human and he cared little of it. He was lacking feeling, emotion, he spoke with such apathy. Speaking of his profession. A profession.

A real job description, as he would state. Where he got to do nothing more than take a dead body and make art of it, take a dead body and make a spectacle of it, attracting all sorts of fame and strange interest. A SICK profession. He was a SICK man. But I was the only one to recognize it.

Everyone else was immersed in conversation, with this… something less than human. And as I passed the ball to and fro I heard a girl verbalize her interest in his professional matter. Stating how interested she was in what he did and how she wanted to be one of his works. How that would be an honor.

This young girl, modelesque, in her prime, and sealing her fate. She, in her bikini and infatuated mentality agreed to die at the hands of this man, in that moment. And he,  hearing her, asked if she was entirely sure of what she was doing. Upon confirming that she wanted nothing more, he agreed to kill her.

I had yet to step out of the confines of the pool and now seemed an especially good time to remain precisely where I was. For this John Doe, walked around the side of the house, to the tool shed and from there retrieved an axe. From there he got into the deep end of the pool with the woman, as everyone surrounding the pool was still going about their business, some had stopped to watch but most others were hardly impressed and were involved in their own doings.

I moved away, halting my game for this evil was going to occur and it was going to be right in front of me. I couldn’t escape it, and there were no words I could speak against it. She wanted to be a piece of work. She wanted to be displayed in a glass case and gawked at by the thousands and this was her life to do as she pleased.

So I stood, in the shallow end of that water. Gazing in horror at the potentially gruesome scene right before my eyes. He thought the water would lessen the effect of the blow, would cause less chaos and damage to the body but soon realized in order to do what he intended in the pool would mean a very slow and painful death. An axe wouldn’t penetrate quickly in water. His ignorance appalled me.

So he jumped out and had her lifted out, at the hands of four of the male guests. And he had them continue to hold her down by each limb on the side of the pool. So she lay, steadfast and dripping as he raised the axe. Then it began to occur, the blade was put in motion and every second became minutes in my mind. I looked away in terror, just before I heard the blade hit the pavement.

Blood was everywhere, in the water of the pool, on the blades of grass, sprayed on people’s legs and faces. And him, he was misted in it as well, though he seemed unphased and even gently moved the girls severed head and delicate body. While the blood rippled through the surface of the water, and I stood there as it surrounded me.

And when I lifted my hands, I found they were covered. Speechless.

My boyfriend decided to give you his weeds,

and my facebooking.

Happy Trails Pardner.