In the Absence of Silence

Can I speak about the absence of silence
How the emptiness just seems so loud
When there’s no one around
And it’s just me I’ve found
That the screams and the laughs are profound

Can I tell you about what I’m hearing
What the faces without souls have said
When they tear through my head
All my thoughts held by thread
Believe me, you’d be better off dead

They joke and they mock and they shame them
The people we all know tell lies
Now the green eyes are leering
And her face is still screaming
And nothing is left to surprise

How strange, how strange
How the silence can go on for days
And the green eyes keep laughing
As their faces pass by me
And nothing is ever the same

They stare and they hover around me
And question everything you say
Don’t doubt I believe you
But the voices they see you
In new and impossible ways

And they come to me in all of my dreams
They rattle and prattle and shake
All I don’t know
They make sure to show
Me every last little mistake

How strange, how strange
The monsters seem so uncaged
But the green eyes keep laughing
And she just looks past me
And nothing can ever change

And they speak in perfect inflection
I hear every word that they say
They say “Always remember
They aren’t worth the fear
And you can only trust us anyways”

“Are we really so different
Deep down you don’t really think so
You’re here forever
Just like me you never
Get to be your own soul”

“And tell me you don’t see the truth here
It’s not like we’re so amiss
You think like I think
All the terrible dark things
You are why I can exist”

How strange, how strange
How the devil is so engaged
Perhaps you are just the
buried subconscious
of a mind that’s not gone where it needs

We do our best to ignore them
Despite their constant jeers
But we just can’t quite shake them
In the silence they’ve taken
They very best of all our years

Until there’s nothing left here

Until we aren’t worth all the tears

Personal Truth is Hell

I’ve started this post more times that I can count over the course of more than 24 hours and I’m still not sure I have the right things to say what all is going through my head.

For very many years I have worked so hard to dedicate myself to the notion of truth. Not just facts, but truth. It’s hard for people to understand the difference sometimes, but fact is what simply is. It can be proven by numerous independent groups. Truth can be relative. Personal.
And I have fought to be able to see the fact, but also recognize personal truth in my interactions. You can’t maintain personal or social relationships without acknowledging personal truth.

And that can be hard. Because personal reality doesn’t have to line up with factual reality. And sometimes deciding which is more important can be hard. The capacity to face dozens or hundreds of separate realities and keep them all in the right place and order is insane. But I try.

I don’t always find the right balance. I tend to err on the side of pointing out fact and statistical probability. And this can be harsh and cold. Part of the reason is that I can’t understand how other people feel. I can guess and I can adjust based on who I see them being. And I like to think I’m good at that. But I can’t always cater well to personal truth. Despite my determination to always recognize and support truth.

In the last eight months I have had to question my personal reality more than a few times. I’ve realized that despite my determination to never lie to myself or accept a cover story to make tragedy easier, that I have actively ignored fact to accept what I wanted. And I was wrong.

I convinced myself that something that wasn’t true or factual was in fact real. I broke one of my cardinal rules. Don’t believe it’s true. Consider everything.

I want so badly to believe that I can find a relationship of any kind where I can just accept what I hear as truth and reality. Not just carefully constructed words to create a situation favorable to the person speaking them regardless of the other people around them. I want to believe that mind games don’t have to be a part of every interaction. But every time I find myself trusting someone I also find myself cheated or tricked.

It’s natural to subconsciously alter our behavior to create a favorable outcome. Everyone wants to be on the winning side. I pursue that sometimes at the expense of the people I care about. Because a core part of who I am is based around my ability to be the smarter and more capable person.

Physically I am broken. I am crippled and suffer from chronic fatigue and pain. I have fought off two decades of illness that no doctor will help me with. And so I have relied on my mind to stand out, to be successful.

A couple of years ago I began exhibiting sever mental illnesses. This has terrified me because I feel like I am only as good as my mind. And mental illness takes that way from me. If I lose that then I am worthless. Just another broken, crazy, useless man who will never be more than a medicated, slowly dying ass.

I’ve always been good at telling people how things will work out. I’ve studied and enjoyed behavioral psychology so I am good at reading what people do and why. In the last eight months I have been gloriously, massively wrong in my own life. Repeatedly.

I’ve trusted people who played me. Even people I was told constantly not to trust. I’ve been wrong. And if I can’t see what’s in front of me how can I be useful to anyone else?
I understand logically that I can’t be blamed for missing things. Everyone wants to believe that are worth being loved and important to other people. But I can’t shake the personal truth that I am better than that. I lied to myself, actively ignored factual reality to give myself something I wanted. And in the end I got burnt for it.

Factual reality is a cold, lonely place. Personal reality is so fluid and not close to fact. I just can’t find that balance.

And the harder I try to pursue the factual reality the fewer people I have around me. I can’t connect with people well because of that. But I can’t accept personal reality over fact.

If I stop counting the facts I just become the joker and no matter how hard I try Ill only be played by harley. I’ll just be an idiot. I won’t be the wizard. I’ll just be the asshole.

No matter how many blue lights I hear I can’t ignore the demons. The lights only seem to lie.

So I am a broken, dark asshole. But Im not accepting the lie just to make myself feel better. I may lose more people over it, but I can’t live the lie forever.
No matter what happens I will always get the factual truth. I can’t avoid it no matter how much more appealing the lie is.

Everything says “He died doing the right thing”. That’s not true. The fate is more like “He died ignoring the lie”. Cause someone will kill me for pointing out facts. Sarcastically cause I’m a dick.

I’ll stop here before I say something else I’m sure will be too much later.

**Please ignore what I am just going to assume are the many spelling and grammatical errors here. I have had a few to many drinks. Sorry to a certain mermaid, there is nothing left to smash but an empty bottle. I’ll make it up by making more empty bottles to smash. Cheers**

Heaven

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

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…

Marked (Fiction)

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)

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.

Image

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

Underneath the Mask

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