The Valley In the Desert

The thin frail man looked up. Beaten by the heat, he squinted with exhaustion and radiated with a flush face. His throat was dry and skin was blistered. He paused for a moment, almost finding rest from the sun on his back. He has watched his shadow in front of him for, what felt like, an eternity. He prayed his  shadow would return the favor and make him unseen to the sun.

"The sun," he whined in his head, too parched to speak. It scorched the sand and rock like Hell's welcome matt.

The land's thirsty orange surface resounded with chiseled character off the valley walls. He saw a distant low valley that cut through the horizon and imagined the water that once was so plentiful as to divide such indelible masses of rock. He found familiarity in the subtle brilliance of natural preservation.

"Visual cognition," he thought. The seemingly trivial college note from 5 years ago suddenly didn't seem so insignificant. He spun around, quickly mentally logging each peak and plane, valley and line, looking for an attack point, a weakness in the deserts grip. He contemplated his next step with such concentration and intent, his knees nearly buckled under the weight of thought.

"It'll have to be down," he said, fixing his attention to a distant valley where water was sure to be flowing. The thought of fresh cold clean melted mountain water made his eyes pull for tears, but none came. He was a dried up man. Time was slipping away as fast as the shadows crawled.

With each elevation drop, he noticed more vegetation. Not soft or bright, but hard, rough vegetation which could fight off the harsh evils of the desert.

"It will be night soon", he tried to tell himself.

His hollow thought had long been emptied of empathy for a relenting sun. Unconvinced of his lie, he continued. He committed to that first unnerving step. He began winding through the desert's forest of tall, unsparing cactus. He, so badly, wished this was a bad dream and he could simply cheat this cruel maze, jump over the prodding wildlife, and dip his face into the crisp blue waters of consciousness.

Release

My brain is fried from all those lies.
I'm overwhelmed with ache and grief,
my shoes no longer fit my feet.
I'm aging fast and growing small,
my dreams get far and start to fall.
I lose my views from crowds around,
people saying I'm hell-bound.
But all I do is sit and stare,
listen in on all their prayers.
I piece together my odd hands,
play and gamble until I'm a man.
I laugh a lot to ease my pain
and cry a lot when love's to blame.
My life's my own and I'm content.
God only knows my true intent.

Self-contempt

I've been a beaten battered ship along the lonely coast. I've been a weak defense against the things I want most. I've been a hot and heated pot boiling within myself. I've been years of dust collecting on the shelf.  I've been words spread thin, dried out in the sun. I've been broken in and forced to run. I've been played like the family piano and trusted just the same. I've been known for nothing and labeled with that name. I've been sick of what I am and how long I've fought. I've been sitting here wondering how long I'll take to rot.

Another One

I hear whispers of "wake up" but this dream has me head-locked into submission of nauseating ache and disillusionment. It's a night terror that's beginning to feel like a routine swallow of uncomfortable toleration. The scene is set. The rolls are played. I look devastation in the face. I watch the peddles fall one by one from the one I love. My heart is slowly and consummately torn. My breath fails to return to me and I stand there fading in plain sight. Numbness consumes my flesh and blood. My soul has died with my love. I weep. I weep? Pain is still prevalent? I wake.

I gasp from the pain that has stalked me to my consciousness. The twisted sheets circles my body with a halo of sweat. My heavy breathing dampens the sound of my pounding heart. I sit up and wonder when it will end.

Deep Sleep

Sleep falls heavy. Eyes weak and resistance weaker. My mind drains to a declining drip. Traffic of thought and worry fade quickly. The body tingles of urgency to rest. Breathing pulses in the background before the shades close and the show begins. Quiet, dark, alone, and asleep with peace.

My Nightmare

Three times shot in the side without a sound. We go out the front door quickly, careful not to spill a drop of blood. The day is suspended and played slowly, viewed with a filter of remorse blue.

I want to cry. I want my tears to make you better. I want this lump in my throat to choke me completely. But I must go on and fix what I made wrong.

You hang onto me as I drag you to a motorcycle, keys in and ready. My hands are trembling to the point I cannot turn the key. I hear you breathing softer. With the weight of your lungs and lame body, I must go. I must make it right.

A quick breath of consciousness allows me to start the bike. Although this is my first time, I know how to ride, I must. First to second to third in jolts and sprints as you, pail and pained, hold fragilely. The wet trees blur down the dark black back road. I feel my heart pulsing on the throttle. The bike tires roll along the road as the world turns, taking me closer to my destination, to my desperation.

Like second nature, my hand grips the brake. We have made it to the hospital with the yellow lights. All my anxiety is bled out through a murderous scream for help. The nurses come running to take you, my young brother, away. Like fire from my eyes, and rain from the skies, tears pour out leaving me nothing to disguise. I fall on the ground, soaking in the water from a puddle, dripping from the blood of your ribs, crying out to wake up from this pain, guilt, and bloody nightmare.

Neutral Becomes Noisy

For the longest time I thought I was doing myself a favor by laying low with opinions of politics, ethics, and other difficult subjects. And for the longest time I have stayed clear of most conflict, until now.

Oddly enough, the conflict doesn't come from anyone but myself. I argue with myself on almost every subject, never coming to a final conclusion. I just end up pissed off and no one to blame it on. I seem to be asking myself more questions and finding less answers. It's like a game of ping-pong that got way out of hand, I've been going back and forth for years.

I was never really asked for MY opinion, most of the time people would just say theirs and look to me, "wouldn't you agree." I'd naively nod my head and shrug my shoulders.

For some reason I don't care or have no reason enough to argue over most subjects. I never saw anything wrong with that about me, now I'm starting to wonder.