Transmission #2b (No Fear)

Prologue to a Novel

In the time before our great fall, legends truly lived. The world was not a forgiving one; every being on Iloveth struggled to survive, and that left none to watch over the weak. This gave rise to the cruel predators of the world, subverting the defenseless and mistreating them for their own perverted inclinations. This is a story of a select few, who fought for us all; even when we didn’t merit defenders. Their bodies have long dried up and been reclaimed by the land, but we keep their memory alive. By fighting for what they stood for and honoring them, we channel their splendor and in the face of destruction and absolute end, they give us hope.

In the time of long-calm,

The darkness, once forgotten, was sought

In the aid of hubris and strength.

Not knowing what sacrifices would recompense.

In the hope that with allegiance, secrets would be bought

And hearts desired won.

In time, cries colored the night

And death descended to feast on final breaths.

Children of Das'il dressed in fear and pain

Begging for any to end darkness' reign.

Many answered desperate pleas’, many would attest,

Though the evil's they replaced were remembered as less.

Their suffering unchanged;

Das'il's own borne now faced with new lords,

Turned away from saviors once dreamt

And garbed in iron and with bloodied fists clenched

And put power in words

and lay waste to chains

~~~~~

TWiaBP

I was afraid of the world.

Surely its size would swallow me whole

Although I know that one day it will

Such is all peoples’ fate

But I was so afraid

I might be big, but it is much bigger

I can be harsh, but it is much harsher

It doesn’t realize this

And it will never realize me.

I was afraid of the world

I thought me soft, but have found it much softer

Not unlike a shoulder to lean on

You need to only reach for it

And so I set out to rest my weary head

I traveled down roads known to many

Into trails traveled by few

I must confess I had my doubts

Is all this really worth your solace

Is this really worth the effort

My lungs burn, my body trembles, and I am tired.

I was afraid of the world

Sometimes I even want to quit

Even when the end is at hand.

I know you wouldn’t care

You can’t care because to you I am nothing.

To me you are everything.

I was afraid of the world.

There is no me without you and I suppose that is what pushes me.

I need to find who I am

And I always do.

Somewhere in between suffering another mountain

Feeling your breeze embrace my cheek

Or falling into deep slumber after a day of hard travel

I can lay my head upon the shoulder you have given

And see that the world is a beautiful place

And I am no longer afraid to die.

Transmission #2a (No Sleep)

Sanctuary of Sleep

An imagined clock ticks to guide the symphony of crickets outside.

A steady stream of cars driving by in practiced manner like a parade joins them.

The riot in my mind crescendos as the thoughts scream and bounce against the walls.

There will be no sleep again and so I ask them to form a line and wait their turn.

Anything is better than wakefulness in the void.

I try not to look at my phone as I deal with my fear of inadequacy and the growling from my stomach.

It is 11:57

I am then greeted by repressed memories that only wish to be acknowledged

I do so and try to move on.

Today's regrets return as well, and yes I know I fucked up, yes I will be here tomorrow too.

It is 12:42

I take a pause and wonder how many beers I would need to quell the voices.

"Too many beers," I say outloud to the symphony of the night.

Against better judgement I look at my phone.

It is 1:20

It's not all so bad though, there's are good thoughts too.

A delicious meal, a wild moment, a loving hand on my forearm, a warm smile to fall back to.

Downstairs my dog's collar jangles. He is deep in slumber, and I hope, dreaming.

It is 2:13

~~~~~

Three Days on Four Hours

This is an unfinished poem.
I wrote it when I couldn't sleep.
I haven't finished it because I still can't sleep.
I really wish I could,
Finish the poem and find sleep.
Oh well.

Transmission #2 (No Hope)

The Man Who Damned Them All

Your favored sons and daughters could call you father.

All others-forced to call you king.

You proudly held both titles, but were worthy of neither.

Dictating and commanding love and respect,

Unfairly earned to then rule with closed fists and open threats.

In time, those beholden to you fled.

When it became clear that you would never have an equal,

Those bound by blood followed after.

So your kingdom became barren, cold, and filled only with your anger.

Loudly echoing through the halls and reverberating through your being.

Eventually the anger boiled into a poison when there were none to receive your ire,

And so your body turned on who it could. It turned on you.

The pain you so desperately wished to inflict caught within your bones.

Vulgarities for ears that had long stopped listening, caught at your throat until you frothed and choked.

Is a King a King when he finds himself bowed and broken?

Is a loathed King who demands help the same as an adverse father who expects it from his children?

Regardless, in humiliating pain you reached out to those you had hurt seeking comfort and peace.

Slaves to bonds and ties, they answered.

and suffered with you as you plunged your house into war anew

No surprise. But also no king, barely a father. If only a sire of my own sire.

No man, a shell of a man, but taught a valuable lesson still.

~~~~~

Godammit

Chemical dreams and toxic blood streams

but your lips stayed just as sweet

to my chagrin

Midnight driving, enthralled by the tune of unsubstantial siren

She is not there and I will chase the lure like a fish until it is too late

Impale the hook betwixt my breasts in the hope you’ll pull me closer

A moronic sign of devotion to a being so blind it is deaf to prayer or cries

Never enough, fighting for only a moment.

Eventually fearing eternal imprisonment in the cage of your desperate need for a warm body

Trapping me with words that bite like iron and draw blood and devotion still.

Such stupid people

The fool and the ghost, what a pair.

One believes, and even dreams, that the other is still there.

Clinging to skewed memories, a venom drunken eagerly from a bottle

Living in the past, aware of the present, and no thought or hope for tomorrow

Because both know it does not matter that it will not come

because they are already long gone.

Transmission #1

I used to be a wreck (Which isn't to say I'm not a mess right now, but a more manageable one). A lot of that stemmed from fears that I believed to be out of my control. Fears that had such power over me I believed them to have been spawned from me. So it seemed only natural that I was afraid of Halloween. It was the one day that was dedicated to celebrating these fears. Whether it was the darkness, excessiveness, the unknown, or death.
In time those fears permeated my being and I fell slave to them in other ways. I would come to build a prison from the world just to avoid chancing having to come face-to-face with them. It wasn’t very healthy, obviously, but I have since come to realize that these fears existed long before I did and will remain long after I am gone. So maybe instead of the helplessness I felt from these fears I could try to face them and stop living in them.
I'll be clear, I'm so fucking afraid of my performance, in all senses of the word. I'm afraid that everything I do is nowhere near good enough and any respect or admiration I have from my peers will be lost once they see me struggle, but I forget that I have stumbled… and I have crawled… and I have even sought to dig my own grave, all the while those who meant so much still stood by me.
My writing is something I hold close to me and to show it is akin to staring into me. I can count the people I've willingly shown my writings to on one hand, and even then they haven't seen most of my works. Peeks, here and there.
I cannot keep these words inside me forever though, because they will eventually rot and grow stagnant. I have gathered a few pieces that I have been working on and release them. I know that in a year they will not be my best works as I hope to grow, but right now I really like them and I hope that I will still like them in the future. I hope you do too, or at least are entertained by them. They all directly, or not, revolve around a fear or frightening event in my life (Which kind of explains why I'm releasing them now). Things that I'm sure some of you have experienced. Read them, or don't. They'll be here. I'll be here, hopefully a little different, a little better each time.

~
“I must not fear. Fear is the mind-killer. Fear is the little-death that brings total obliteration.

I will face my fear. I will permit it to pass over me and through me.

And when it has gone past I will turn the inner eye to see its path.

Where the fear has gone there will be nothing. Only I will remain.”

― Frank Herbert, Dune