4cool5mE

en something better than all that crap earlier idk

what i was thinking

On the other side there’s a dark space where it

Stretches out its arms and legs and sails effortlessly to whichever world it wants to

With colorless shapeless hair, lengthless nails,

Beautiful and horrible, night angel.

Taking to slaughtering flights with her shattered remorse,

Screams in anguish as

Existence, yet again,

Fails to pass her by.

Closes her eyes to cry the hurt from her brain,

A twisted, abuse’d thing,

Only fusing like glass when they open again.

Three ruby crystals bless her face,

Like nervous things in the night, or the eyes of

A killing bird turned sacred,

Yet retaining some natural pattern to their wings,

Life in citation, for

A lack of nature in that sadistic machination,

A briar of curve’d truths and the moons cold light.

like these I dont blame you

Jets passing through an airspace,

Jets passing across an open sky,

I’ve let them grow too long,

White fingernail scratches on an open sky.

Let’s get started,

Smile on my face, cloud sunset horizon,

That sets and rises, disk scratch comprisement

Meant for two eyes so it lies then,

Everyone’s got ten using each one or

Trying, somber card and the air’s thin

Quiet canines kept in their sheathes

Smile wide with a dark grin

Quiet glances in holsters they solely for

Spiders tightroping crystals the

Skin peeling back present wrappers.

You get a smile try and catch it now,

Use both eyes you can catch it now.

some of these are double spaced and some arent

Trying to say, today I have no particularly

Strong emotions, thinking I could have

Something left inside those doors

That seem so grand and ornate

Whose opening is as a crack of thunder

Not quick but heart wrenching

To leave cynicism to the wonder of those doors

And find them less than ordinary

That even as the grand hall is empty,

Cold, dark with chiseled sunlight,

Its emptiness could compare, and

With inking love become a spectacle.

titles were bad, why did they make me put those in

THis isssss, the other one… ye, it starts below

“N-no!”

Helpless, she thought. Her face was a statue beneath her jingasa, vandalized with shadow.

“Please! Please…” the man whimpered, dirty knees clutched to his chest. “Just take them back! Here! I have them here! Please…”

Every word from his quivering voice was tainted with the accent of the inner city. Dark alley walls surrounded them, dim amber light only just seeping over the edges of the adjacent buildings. His condemnation, two silver necklaces, were a shining light cruelly sapped by the coal black world.

One foot fell in front of the other.

I will not forget.

She reached the necklaces, the cobbles underfoot folding their chains in curves. The steel at her side became present.

Her left foot stepped to the side of the man, movement pushing apart cloth and metal.

“No, please…please…please…” the words shook his body with each release.

Last time wasn’t like this. Without thinking her hands had reached her center, raised above the neck of the man.

Pause.

Motion returned to her body, eyes snapping back to focus.

He wasn’t going to run, he wasn’t going to fight,

This will all be over soon.

The man no longer pleaded but cried, the sobbing choked in the stained wrappings on his thighs. It was a messy sound, beaten, terrified, child-like.

She breathed.

Her whole body shuddered as she stepped back into the street. Despite an abundance of warm fire and lamp-light, the night was cold and overbearing. Thick cloth bunched under her dō, a simple leather plate covering down to the base of her ribs.

The cloth swept out to her wrists, where her body temperature stopped before reaching her fingers. Slowly, she rubbed one hand back and forth against the other. Her left wore a glove, but her right was uncovered.

Like water against a dam.

The tip of a bloody white cloth poked out from a pocket at her waist. Clutched in her bare hand were the two silver necklaces.

She opened her palm to look down at the pendants, which dangled off the edge of her hand. They were the only thing to distinguish each by, where the chains fell messily over each other in her fingers.

These are brilliant work, but…

She stopped, as if someone had whispered close to her ear.

Another shudder took her suddenly. It was time to go.

The nature of the necklaces would be none of her business, in any case.

The shop was crowded, though not with people. Tall shelves lined the walls, each brimming with objects of all characters. Cases with simple frames and soft fabric held the nature of vials and other similar trinkets. There were only a few lamps, casting a pale light over the room and its oddities.

If she was being honest, her expectations involved some form of welcome, questions even. But standing on the small woven mat in the shop’s entrance, she found little but silence awaiting her return.

“Hello?” Her voice broke slightly, but the word was clear.

“I have returned with the necklaces!”

The store had made her uncomfortable the first time she had stepped through its doorway, and not much had changed since then. The lights still had a way of making the shadows seem…

Green.

Her attention was suddenly drawn as the shopkeeper threw open a side door, which slammed dangerously into a wooden shelf adorned with carvings.

“You’re back!” The shopkeeper wove towards her through the rows of cases. “And you say you have the necklaces?”

“I do.” She held out her hand, letting them slip out from her fingers onto the small counter beside her.

“Thank you so much,” The shopkeeper bowed her head slightly, “You don’t understand how dear these are to me. Here,”

Quickly and carefully scooping up the necklaces in one hand, her other held before her a simple metal ring.

“I want you to have this.”

Her ungloved hand reached out and curled around the gift. She mimicked the shopkeeper, who gently released it into her hand.

“You won’t see anyone else with something like that.” The shopkeeper turned and stepped towards the nearest case, laying the two necklaces down in the fabric base.

“Thank you, again.”

Hey this is uh, this is dream.

Something broke the surface, emerging from our empty calendar. A black SUV drifts down a cold breeze on a highway passing past painted barrios and washed tropical desert. Harsh fireflies grace the picture. It feels wrong, like it’s not quite dark enough yet. Like they’re too mechanical, their pairs a little too close. Rigid dancers in the pouring rain. Under the moon roof, a hint of headache and pressure contaminates my focus, something I’m trying to place somewhere between my placid eyes and the crystals on the glass.

Around a corner, blur sound, repeat.

There’s a valley around us, with short trees and sparkling landfills. The next one would have them too; metal, plastic, mattresses, rocks. I think about the fake plastic colours, draining in light under the clouds; the piles writhing like spawn in soda tones.

It seems unrealistic.

Something uncomfortable shifts in my chest. My eyes close, shoulders and head supported by a grey fleece that fills the backseat corner. Awkward and soft. Rust and purple.

I can still feel the pressure.

A long breath passes from me like an alpine wind through blue green treetops. There’s a valley around us, details of calcified trees and human nature. The feeling of something warm and sad wraps itself around each rib and vertebrae.

I start slipping…

And fall asleep.

“Kri!” A woman’s voice launches me into a dull projection,

“Kriaa?”

There’s an abrupt movement, but everything is still out of focus. Nothing but amber light surrounds me, struck by golden wounds and earthy veins.

I’m standing?

“Kriaa!” Relief is a clear pitch.

Now a vague figure stands beside me, but that’s not my name.

Where have I heard it then?

“Let’s go already!” The world shifts forward, as oak and maple leaves become clear.

That’s right.

Kriaa was a character name, a few had been called that before.

Soon the forest is replaced with purple stone; a quick glance shows nothing but stars and empty space at the edges of the platform we drift across. The woman has her arm in mine, but her face is still blurred.

Blurred?

Something you can’t see in any case, without shape, without color.

“Eric disappeared earlier,” she says. Her voice seems to come from all around me.

“But I’m sure he’ll be back for tonight.”

As the dream started, it fades, slowly turning into colours and shapes. I feel a strange type of sadness.

The type that belongs in meaningless dreams.

Consciousness touches me softly, escaped daybreak tendrils at the tips of a mountain range. A dirt road spirals off into the hills mid afternoon, where groups of sheep huddle on each horizon and barbed fence-work sprouts up in tangles. I slowly gather up my vision like a spool of twine, the nerve endings in my skin shattered glass sweepings. Another few silent moments inside my head and more of my body wakes. My back flexes in, my arms lazily snapping out. Tectonic metal in chain-like lengths, segment against segment releasing heat through my muscles.

Still tired.

Nothing to hear still but the noise of tires and road, which is hardly a sound as it is. What day is it now?

Tuesday. Right.

I stare into the endlessly rising hills, dead-colored ocean waves without the charm of depth. Something switches as I’m out of focus, and the whole world seems to speed up in movement around me like a video. It feels wrong as my hands jerk about before my eyes. I shut my eyes gently, sinking back. A faint ache of cold runs down my skin. A lot of nothing can happen in an instant, I think, but many instants?

It doesn’t matter really.

Time’s running circles in a cold clock. Nowhere to sit. The seat belt holster presses into my lower back like a crowded room. A crowded space, as it has been for hours, whether I’m lying down or not. Sleeping or not. Which is…

Funny.

I’m becoming used to it, though it hurts. I can feel restlessness growing under the resignation now.

I wade through a cold marsh in my stomach. Long moss grows off the branches of living oaks.

I close my eyes to a toad-song lullaby.

Rhythm Rain – 

Rhythm rain, crackle drumming beat,

Coldly feigned, singing solemnly,

Wooden bars, pounding hatching deep,

Metal ringing thoughts and apologies. The first

Step lands firm, second step falls shallow,

Third breath underwater, fourth pain feels hollow,

Thirty raindrops later fifth step slips under

Sixth pain is my head inflicting two blackouts and my

Eyes don’t want to open, kick board breaking thunder,

On the ground amidst sea mist ear buzz

Feedback wind formed flame hiss grief trips

And what does,

Thoughts wrack hate born sore wrist sunder

And I can hear the rhythm rain.

And there’s more coming soon.