Category Archives: Writing

Ghosts

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The quiet rumble of evening chatter in this half assed dive drones like some tainted, off-white noise covering the the edges of my broken thoughts.

One more drink to forget.

I stare at the empty seat across from me. You sat there once. You smiled and laughed and asked me to stay with you. You said you felt lucky I would even consider it.
It’s hard to fathom that the moment is just a shadow of a memory. That no remnant of it remains outside my splintered psyche. Even the energy of our chemistry has faded in the wake of a thousand hours since.

But I can see your face as clear as day. I can see you laughing, hear you say my name….

Even after this lifetime those passing moments are more real than this world around me. The faces of strangers are blurred compared to yours. Their voices a distant echo next to you melodic speech.  Even the table under my shaking hands seems insubstantial when I remember your hand on my cheek.

And just that is enough to bring a torrent of other memories crashing into me. It feels like getting hit with bricks and I have to clutch my head against the pressure.
It passes after a moment and I sit back, drawing a rattling breath. I look back at the chair. I smile as I see you there again, even as some small part of my mind wonders how long I’ll court this haunting.

A question for tomorrow. Tonight I’ll indulge the grief and cling to the ghost of your memory. Another drink and another memory, clearer than reality.

One more drink to remember…

Heaven

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Touch my soul
It’s not whole
It’s broken like my mind
Take my heart
See the parts
Still beating out of spite

See my dreams
How they bring
The nightmares all to life
Hear the lies
Cause I can’t bring
Myself to say it right

It’s not the kind of love that I know is deserved
It’s the kind of love that can only ever hurt

So I’m not going to heaven
I tear you down just to get back in
I’ll walk away from your heaven
Better lost all alone then to bring you to sin

I bare the wounds
So I can say
That I’m not the perfect man
I wear them proud
Cause they’re the only
Pride that I can get

I carry on
With blade in hand
Just looking for a fight
It’s better that
Than face the fact
That you were always right

Now I’m not going to heaven
I’ll break your heart just to save us the time
I’ll never get into heaven
Not with all the hate and the bitter lies

They all say
I cant decide
For you what’s really right
But I can see
what this would be
I won’t put you you through that fire

I hold my head
High as I can
Just so I can hide
I won’t deserve
To hear the words
That haunt me every night

Why can’t I just go to heaven
On a path to hell for something that is right
I just can’t go to heaven
You were closer to heaven than I’ll ever find

I just can’t go to heaven
I tear you down just to get back in
I swear that I’ll steer clear of heaven
So you have the chance to be happy again

Hear Me

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I fumble through and fight to lose
But always get up again
I just don’t know what to do
So I do all I can

I can’t face the light of day
The memories are pain
But the dark, is cold alone
It drive me insane

And I can’t even speak of what feel

To many people far to close
But no one’s here for real

So my soul burns
While heart beats freeze
I rise again
To hit my knees
With trembling hands
I beg and plead
But no ones left
To hear me scream

My heart broke clean in three
Torn apart by the fates
Despite the hurt that they caused
I just can’t come to hate

So I try to carry on
But their faces remain
I don’t know what’s left to do
So I drink them away

And I can’t even say what I do

Because of all I’ve said and done
I have to hide me from you

So my soul burns
while heart beats freeze
I rise again
To hit my knees
With trembling hands
I beg and plead
But no ones left
To hear me scream

And even if I could find the words
To help you understand
I don’t think that you’d ever see
Just the way that I can
So I wear the mask that makes it right
So you don’t have to see
Just remember what you’ve come to love
Is nothing like me

So my soul burns
while heart beats freeze
I rise again
To hit my knees
With trembling hands
I beg and plead
but no ones left
to hear me scream

And no one’s left to hear me scream
There’s no one left to hear me…

What I Am

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“And they that were born to darkness were shunned by the light, not for their sins but so as to be the salvation of the lost” – Gospels of Limbo

 

The stench of charred flesh carried on the wind across the lake. The glow of the growing flames reflected off the water and into the plume of smoke slowly filling the air with it’s acrid haze. A dozen homes burned in the wake of what had become an all to common occurrence. I hadn’t been able to save everyone.

I watched distantly as emergency responders rushed in vain to save the people they believed still trapped in the burning buildings. There were no survivors left, but a small part of me applauded their determination. At least now the flames and smoke and falling structures would be the only threat.

Not the monsters that had been there an hour ago.

Flashes of the past thousand fights flitted through my minds eye in the space of a heart beat and it left me reeling. Can’t look back. Can’t ever look back.

I shook my head and tried to think ahead. Tried to think on the next step. But all I could hear were that girls words. “You were born damned for the sake of others salvation”.

The demons that had burnt those homes, killed those people, had been after that girl. They had destroyed so many lives to get to her. I’d say it was a miracle I survived, but after today I hardly believe anything is left to chance. That just made everything worse.

Again, a never ending parade of horror and torture played through my head and the weight of everything took me to my knees. Everything. Everything I had endured. Everything I had done and seen and suffered. All of it was predestined. My fate. I was created to walk through the deepest pits of hell, all so other people could find peace. Peace I would never get to know.

I tried to stop the thoughts, to force myself to breathe, to focus on my heartbeat. But my heart was racing. Not just with fear or desperation. But with anger.

I had never been a good man. But I had tried. Despite everything I had be subjected to I had fought to do what was right, what was good. Often at great loss to myself. I tried with everything I had to be positive and thankful for what I had in my life. I fought to shake off the constant pain in my body, mind and soul. To smile. To be pleasant, no matter what nightmares played in my head. I forgave the crimes against me and moved on. I refused to stand by while others were made victims. It hadn’t been enough.

So I fought harder. I put myself between the worst things mankind has faced. War, disease, famine, monsters, hell….I put myself between the people who damned themselves and the hell they had bought. I carried these souls, forsaken by God himself, from the most remote corners of the deepest dark. And after they were allowed to walk back into the light whole and happy, my sacrifices forgotten, I continued to carry the scars of those battles. Those souls….they couldn’t bare to stand the sight of what I had to be to save them.

And still, I fought on.

“Battle not with monsters, lest ye become a monster”. I laughed when an angel quoted Nietzsche. I couldn’t laugh when I realized that’s why the angels wouldn’t save these people. And why I could…

I always tried to believe that I was more than what the world saw. But the truth is, without the input of other people, we aren’t really more than the jaded perceptions of a biased mind trying pathetically to view itself.

The world saw me as a monster. So, a monster I became. A monster I would be.

I pushed myself back to my feet, took one more look at the fires and turned away. The flickering shadows cast by the remains of other peoples lives fled before me. The demons wouldn’t stand before me anymore. I had no past left to cast shadows on my future.

I hope they remember me this way. A monster. I hope they remember me this way when they see me walking through the towering flames of their hell, standing against an army of their nightmares. I hope this is how they remember me.

Because this is what they made me. A monster, to fight the monsters.

One Step Forward

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It’s surreal, watching your world burn.

I stood in the smoke billowing from the collapsing wreck of my home. Everything I had spent years building was in there.  All my work, memories, pictures and books, movies and clothes. Everything.

And I had set it on fire.

Have you ever felt like everything you’ve spent half a lifetime putting together had collapsed around you, trapping you in a hole you can only escape by leaving it all behind? Yeah, it sucks.

The worst part of it is that so much of it was good. It was the tiniest part that was a problem but I couldn’t move on with those tiny, critical parts and the rest was tied to close. Some of it just couldn’t move.  So I did the only reasonable thing I could. I set it all on fire.

Ok, maybe less than reasonable. But sometimes change requires big steps. Big steps are always hard. And I am fundamentally a creature of perpetual habit. Change is not easy or friendly. But change is what I needed. And so I made sure I couldn’t go back. 

I took a deep breath, let my gaze linger a moment more on the last of my past and then wrapped my duster closer around myself, feeling cold despite the warm summer night. I turned around and stood staring into the darkness, the light from the rising flames casting long shadows into the night before me. It seemed an ominous sign, the demons in the dark.

I smiled ruefully and took my first step away from my old home and into the uncertain dark. My heart was heavy with memories of what I was leaving, but my feet were light.

They say the first step is always the hardest. But after striking the match on my past, that next step was easy. I wonder what that says about me…

Marked (Fiction)

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The sigil burned into the flesh of my left hand, eliciting a shout and dance of pain and shocked dissatisfaction.
That was not exactly what was suppose to happen.

I’d just been messing around, thought ‘Hey, what harm could drawing this random group of images on my hand while I’m bored’. Turns out the harm could include seared flesh and the rush of magic binding to me.

As the pain started to die down, my head began to swim. I could feel my energy warping to accommodate the new addition to my being.
Sudden fear ran through me. This simple doodle should not be altering my energy without my permission!

I rubbed my right hand vigorously over my left, hoping to remove the invading symbol, and immediately regretted that as the singed skin screamed.

Now slightly more irritated than afraid, I glared at my hand. Ok, slow down and think. Why would this symbol etch itself onto me without any power being put into it? That’s not how this is suppose to work.

I extended my mind to feel around the now cooling scar to see if there was some unusual innate power to it. And I nearly collapsed. Well…that’s special.
I tried moving energy up my arm to push against the sigil. My hand throbbed and a pressure built at the tips of my fingers.

Ok then. I looked closer at the various symbols involved, trying to remember why they came into my head and why I decided to draw them on myself. They were fairly simple. Nordic rune of binding, a rune for banishing, the rune for Mercurial intelligence. Two circles with lines crossing between the runs. All of it from different sources.

I got bored re-hashing the same old material time and again so I began randomly drawing on the only available material. My hand.

Next thing I know WHOOSH…..magic tat.

The pain and disorientation was mostly faded and a cursory examination of my personal energy didn’t show anything horribly wrong, apart from the new swirl of focus on my hand.

I could almost hear a soft, feminine laugh in the back of my head. Damn…

The Right Thing (Fiction)

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I’m tired.

That’s nothing new, seeing as don’t really ever sleep. But this is different. This weariness seems to have settled back into my shriveled little heart. Every breath just seems like more work than it’s worth.
Don’t misunderstand my exhaustion for depression or any dis-interest in life. That’s not it at all. I’ve finally gotten back to appreciating life and what it can offer. It’s just that as soon as I found that again new little problems creep up.

For instance, the homicidal spirit of a deranged sorcerer who I might have had a partial hand in killing stalking through the dreamscape, terrorizing my friends and associates while looking for me.

Or how a new god has suddenly called me and decided that, apart from the devotion I am already offering the last divine overlord that collared me, I should be a part of his fun games.

Or how my fae-born ex-wife is unconsciously assaulting me with pixies.  You know, mostly small stuff. After a while it just wears at you.

Add to that the seer who keeps telling me I have death at my shoulder and the flocks of random strangers deciding I can fix their lives…I just don’t know how much I can give a shit some moments. I’ve spent a lot of years being a selfish bastard, and I’ve tried to work on that. But you can’t quit something like that cold turkey. It has to come in steps. 12 Step. For sociopaths.

And damnit I need an ‘I’m a selfish dick’ day. But sadly pissed off megalomaniacs don’t give you sick days, gods don’t just callback, and the needs of the many damn well let you know how little you matter. And even if I sleep, I have a dead bastard stalking the dreamscape for me. Guess I should get to dreaming. I could kick some ass.

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(The above image is here courtesy of google….meaning I don’t own it)

Beloved Pieces (Fictional Rambling)

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This isn’t what I expected.

I figured that a real mental break would be accompanied by fear and pain and hysteria. That’s how it always looks in the movies, right? People pushed to the very limits of their ability to endure stress or pain and then a SNAP and they go psycho.

And don’t get me wrong, I have had my fair share of stress and pain. And some of it took me to the edge of what I had endured before. But the result here was rather anti-climatic so far.

Let me back up a bit so you understand. I hear things. Things that aren’t there. Voices in my head that don’t belong to anything but the fears and unresolved trauma that is me. I also hear the spirits of magic. The distinction is a fun one to make most days. But I think I have done a decent job before today.

Oh but today…today was not a good day. It’s not like anything went wrong really. Compared to recent days, this was bliss. My whole life didn’t fall apart around me, no one tried to kill me, I didn’t watch the people I love die or walk away. It was just a day. But damn if it wasn’t a bad one.

The noise in my head was worse than normal. But even that wasn’t as bad as I had been seeing. A little music, a little booze. It was fine.

Then…this.

I always dreamed about being something great. Most people do. But it’s always been central to who I am. A requirement for a life well lived. The voices set that back. I mean, who is going to believe, less look up to, a schizophrenic. But I had it under wraps and I thought I could control them. Guess not.

Then a few words of what should have been good news. A couple of things I already knew resurfacing. One minute of splitting pain….then nothing.

I sit here trying to analyze nothing. It’s not boredom or vacancy. It isn’t apathy. It’s more like transcendence.

I’ve always been a bit conceited. Like, nearly a sociopath. For those of you who don’t live like that, it’s kind of like sitting on a self-established pedestal and looking down at children. You know you are better but you don’t point it out lest the children maul you to death to prove you wrong.

Ok, so maybe my vision of children is a bit skewed, but they do that. Swear to god.

That feeling of superiority is always there, even when I am horribly depressed (which apparently is weird for borderline sociopaths). But this new feeling goes beyond that. I still felt above the trivialities of other people’s problems. But it’s like I didn’t have to be connected to my own either. Like everything was just a puzzle or board game and I could control the pieces.

Somewhere in the back of my mind that seemed to be a bad sign for my mental health, but the part of my mind that had spent two and a half decades watching for ways to fix everything was overwhelmingly happy at getting to rest for a minute so I really didn’t care.

And as I looked down at the various parts of my life I had let fall apart or stagnate, I realized how foolish I had been. All these people who I protected when they didn’t deserve it. All the time I wasted on friends and family and social standing. I could have earned respect by being better. But I had tried to be their equal.

How dare I, a practical god, demean myself to that level. They didn’t deserve my attempts to raise them up. They were beneath me. They were less.

Suddenly I was laughing maniacally in my living room again, the weight of the world settling back into the grooves it has left on my shoulders.

What was that? Was it heaven or hell. While I was there it was bliss. Perfection and the ultimate high. But being back, it had to have been hell. Right?

Perspective is a funny thing. I’m sitting here arguing with my-selves over whether I want to go to hell again or not. One more thing to analyze in my constant battle to stay self aware.

But it can wait. The voices scream as the magic calls. I have beloved chess pieces to save and polish. One more move in one more game. I sure hope I won that move.

Underneath the Mask

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This world is full of twisted fate
that burns and stabs and makes me ache
and fills my dark soul as I quake
in forbidden lust for thee

With every step and breath and thought
my mind goes where it ought not
and fills with glorious immoral rot
that’s taking hold of me

I can’t imagine any poison sweeter
then this dark and oozing ether
that rends my heart and soul beneath her
in the treachery I’ve sought

I hide behind a pleasant smile
my pulse racing all the while
for obscenity so rare and wild
and pray that I’m not caught

For my being is never more complete
then when I indulge the darkness sweet
and taste the blood that I do reap
in blissful misery

I reveal the tools once hidden
give in to impulse once forbidden
cross a line so far unwritten
in worship unto thee

I feel the sensation of falling
as across that line I’m crawling
ever near and so foreboding
in testaments I speak

Morals that I have forsaken
in my need for release taken
one with this my mind is breaking
and at last I’m free
to truly just be me

Rebirth (Fictional Piece)

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“Dark Mother…”

It hurt.

I’m no stranger to pain, but there is something extra special about six bullets to the chest. Somehow, I had managed to be grazed by all but two. But those two…damn, they got me good.

The sharp, shooting pain (haha) pulsed in my chest with every heart beat. Every breath drew new agony, and a brief split second pause of relief as the pain ebbed. It was like nothing I had ever experienced. To bad I was dying and couldn’t appreciate the moment.

And kneeling over me were the only two people who were ever there for me. God, they are beautiful. Even with the tears running down their cheeks. I can feel their hands, soft and warm, squeezing my calloused, freezing fingers. I can barely hear them though. Come to think of it, I can barely hear the shouting of terrified people, or the continuing gun fire in the background. It would almost be peaceful if not for the bullet wounds.

I think they are saying my name. I should be ashamed to admit I still get a thrill when I hear them call to me. But I’m dying, so who gives a damn.

I try to smile and answer back, but the blood in my throat makes me cough. Sexy. I just wish I could say something…

Then, from the haze of running people and glaring over head lights, another woman appears. It’s her. I don’t know why she would be here for me. I mean, I failed. I didn’t do anything of the things she asked me. In fact I tossed her aside when my life went to hell. Why would she be here?

My thoughts shatter as she smiles down at me, as though there were pity and not anger in her heart as she saw me sprawled out in a pool of my own blood. Her hair falls like liquid amber over her shoulder as she kneels to cradle my head in her lap. Her pale lips twist in a small smile. Her eyes look gently into my soul.

This is my goddess. My Dark Mother.

“This doesn’t seem to be what you set out to achieve my little one”. Her soft voice slides through my mind like a caress. I can’t even feel indignation at the situation.

“Yeah, well it turns out I might have taken a couple of bad steps in there. You win some, you lose some”.

I should probably not be a smart ass to a goddess. But she just shakes her head.

“Why are you here Mother? I can’t imagine that anything I have done would make me worthy of your comfort now”.

She stroked my head gently as she sighed “You are mine. I chose you from among hundreds of millions. And when you called to me, I could not refuse you”. Her face became almost sad then and I could hear the cries of my friends, still kneeling over me. I looked at them and realized they couldn’t see anything but me. They must think I was out of my mind. Hell, maybe I was…

“I am real child. As real as anything you could ever know. And I am here for you so tell me, what is it that you want?”

“I don’t deserve any boon from you. I abandoned you and everything I believed in. I don’t deserve anything from you”

I coughed again. More blood. I noticed a distinct lack of pain in my torso. I was almost done. Strange how I just didn’t seem to care.

The goddess touched my cheek and laughed “And what would you ask for, if you had the right to ask? For heaven? For your life, or that of your friends? You called to me, my precious one. Tell me why you did”.

There was no more command in that statement than in any she had spoken. Yet I felt my heart break to tell her everything. But what did I want?

“Not to die would be really nice” I said, without thinking.

She tilted her head and considered me “You put your self here, far from where I would have had you otherwise. You said yourself that you abandoned me. So why call to me here?” She leaned down and kissed my forehead, my blood staining her lips. “Would you ask me to save you?”

I shook my head without thinking “No. I couldn’t ask for that. I would ask that you save them” and I looked at the two women crying over my no longer breathing body.

“They are not mine” she said, looking at the young women.

I nodded “But I am. And they are here because of me…”

My goddess stood up then and looked down at me, her face a sudden mask “What would you ask me of wizard?”

“Give me life. Give me strength. And let me put down the bastard that are doing this.”

Her lips twitched in what might have been a bemused smile.

“You’re return to life will not be pleasant. And once you’re back, everything will change. They will know you are mine. And they will try to kill you for it. You will no longer be able to hide from them” she leaned down and touched my face. “This will hurt more than all the fires of hell. As if every demon you have was given life to tear at you. It will hurt”.

If I could have moved my rapidly cooling shoulders, I would have shrugged. “Pain means life, right?”

She shook her head again as she straddled my chest “No my dearest love. Life means pain” her eyes began to glow with the power that was her very being as she leaned in putting her face just inches from mine and kissed me saying “This will hurt”.

And it did.