"Sailors, lost"

the silence is deafening tonight. the ocean crashes outside my window. At least it's those little things I remember. While the sounds of sailors lost echoes trumpet into my ears. I sense their agony, lost among the darkness of the sea.

i found myself like that once. Bobbing among the waves of life. Fierce black tongues lashing at the final essence of my soul. As anyone knows, living long enough on this marble. Things change, people to do as well. 

My little raft was only big enough for me. I barely stayed on myself as I bounced among the chaos. At night when darkness surrounded me I would put my ear to the raft and listen. Listen to those ghosts that haunt the oceans deep. I'm not gonna beg them to guide me to safety. 

They just as soon throw me to Posieden. All the discarded rats we are. Clinging to the last little morsal of solitude. The light that shines twice as bright, only shines half as long. I heard that once. 

Fitting I imagine to the scenereo that plagues me now. 

~ P

“The Little Child Crys in all of us”

We have a garden outside. It’s quite beautiful actually. It’s ten feet by six feet. The only trouble is that it’s surrounded by a ten foot barbed wire fence. How ironic we can’t even touch the very beauty that is in front of us. All because some nut might eat the flowers and choke to death.

Riiight, that mother fucker Lawrence. Damn him for ruining it for all of us.

Lucy down the street from me had a nice garden. They were Jehovah Witness’. A chatty group but harmless. I never understood why as a child you wouldn’t want to celebrate xmas. But then as I got older I realized that celebrating a day of consumerism to non existent people times two is insane to me. I am the sardine in the can. I am the myth in the halls. Not these two, they paint as fantasy figures of literature that could have been easily written on the back of a bubble gum card.

Lucy ended up moving away in the Spring. We were just sophomores in high school. She had braces, freckles with strawberry blonde hair. She actually resembled Strawberry Shortcake- odd that always was to me. I started to psychoanalyze myself at a young age because I wondered why I would get an erection around my sisters Barbies. I blame Lucy for that.

We held hands and kissed. My paws tried their best to slog through the maze of clothes in order to touch the holy grail- her bed was shrouded with stuffed animals and plastic dolls buried tight into shelves that contained every book from when she was a baby. My fingertips stretched towards that unobtainable goal. I felt the fleshy crease between her leg’s, soft pubes tickling me. Her body contorted in waves of emotion as my fingers pushed passed the moist skin. I started kissing her neck as she turned away to gasp. I assume this was her first time doing anything like this. But no one ever knows the show that goes on inside the head of a woman. Especially a sophomore.

As her little cuing began to accelerate, I thought this might be a good time to work on opening that avenue to pleasure faster. I withdrew my hand to see tinges of blood dotting my fingertips. I stared at them for the longest time, never seen anything like this before. Lucy started to unbutton her slacks. She noticed me, the blood- but before her lips even parted with the words, “Oh NO…!”

I shoved them into my mouth, savoring their pubescent taste.

A bombastic reality check hit me in the form of Lucy, who punched me dead center off the side of my head. Sending me ass over tea kettle onto the floor. The shock of her hit and thankfully landing on that soft beige carpet jarred me back to attention.

She snapped at me! Asking why I would ever want to taste blood! With the adage~ of “Why vaginal blood!” My response was a the exact response I felt as a person and as a 16 year old. The obligatory shoulder shrug. She really took offense of my action and hopped off the bed with the grace of a gymnast.

Planting her feet on either side of my head. I rose.

“You disgust me!"

As I wobbled to my size twelves, she slapped me in the face. I wasn't certain about the amount of abuse I was gettting for what seemed to be a beautiful moment or JUST a moment between two people I thought. Do I take it personal or was it a deep seeded issue that she had been harboring within her own desire to do or had done or had someone else done it before? I don't know. Frankly I didn't care. I just wanted to get the hell out of there without being hit again.

I came downstairs to a still empty house. She followed me as far as the top of the stairs and declared she didn't want to see me anymore. Frankly, I was fine with that.

As I started down, what she didn't realize was that I had obsconded a marker from her desk when I passed it by. About three steps in I began to scraul backwards with the letter "T" then "N" then "U".....that's as far as I got before she reached me and began screaming like a banshee. Grabbing the Sharpie out of my hand and yelling more obseneties at me.

"I guess it will be left to interpritation". I said.

With that I was out the door. I coud hear her angry cries echoing throughout the neighborhood. It was beautiful.

Her brother's bus had just pulled up as I hit the sidewalk. We gave each other the old "head nod," signaling that we acknowledged one another, but that's about it.

He was a nice enough kid. I'm sure he has caught more bullshit than he cares to admit from her. Perhaps his heart will be filled with glee as much as mine is right now when he lands home.

it got rough for me after that for a spell. But then again life is no picnic, except on holidays.

“Soldier of White”

Following the trenches of white that encircle the tiles

Each turning black with mold

How is it so cold

Even with the heat on, in here it feels like an artic hold on my skin

Which rises and falls with each tug I do

Pulling it taut and snapping it back

My skin begins to turn purple and black.

My nails are yellow with fungus and stench

Grime crawls up inside as if sitting on a bench.

Knuckles drag across the floor as I lay upon my stomach-

Just feet above the ground I soon will adorn.

Skin worn, each pass rubs me raw-

Soldier of WHITE ruffles my feathers not letting me take flight.

Cuffing me, don't you dare let me go. 

Sitting on my feet, they shackle me down below.

High above I will sore, not outside my body or dead at your door-

But beyond your reach, I will find, a place to lay and leave all souls deceased.

So Doctor please make sure you never let me free-

God help you if you do…

Those will be dark days set upon thee-

~ P

“Blue Girl”

Tick Tock goes the clock

Tick Tock goes the knock

Knock…knock…knock as the hammer comes down to land in the exact spot.

My teeth, yellow with disease

Yellow as a sunflower

Sinking into that piece of freshly cut meat I neeeed.

Delicate whispers of song and dance in my ear

Keeping me awake are the voices of yesteryear…

Dancing in my skull are puppets of the undead pounding against the marrow filled walls.

Christmas is the time for cheer

Time for joy

Time for jeer

Time to wrap, wrap, wrap up your dead.

Give it a nice bow instead.

Blue girl, blue girl where did they find you?

In a lake

In a pond

Or under a stake?

Blue girl, blue girl are you cold and grey?

Lips purple and blue to match the sunset today-

Blue girl, blue girl who found you?

A cousin?

A friend?

A foe?

Did the killer himself return you hoome?

~ P

The Light Have...nots

I watch as they mix my coffee for me. That little brown straw with a stripe along the side I am not allowed to even have. There isn't much you can do with it. Well that's not true- as you can tell from their methods I describe, they are keeping themselves safe from me. The coffee is so weak, I'm basically drinking watered down tinted milk. God forbid they stimulate any of us in here. How disastrous that may be.

Over the weekend we lost another member of the jumpsuit squad.

"Happiness is slavery" as Reznor puts it and slavery is bursting at the seems here among these stone walls. I fear that Zues himself won't be able to keep these pillars from crumbling much longer.

Sid was in his cubical and had his arms tide as he always does. It's actually quite a feeling being strapped back like that. Even if your not diagnosed **CRAZY** but wrapped up in the jumpsuit you'll look crazy soon enough! Your arms eventually go numb, your pecker feels as if it's been shoved up your own ass. The floor always tastes terrible when your laying face down on it. The smell of feces, urine and foot odor stings the nose.

Sid had it down to a science. His flexibility was astonishing, like watching a wounded animal break dancing to get upright. Some lemmings just crawl and whale because they can't make it work. No one really knows what happened Saturday, but Ponce told me that Sid's arms may not have been fully buckled and he decided to go the way of autoerotic asphyxiation. Sid was always a ladies man here if you know what I mean. Always up for a sexual challenge. There are worse ways to die in here and his style was the first.

I toast to you Sid with my turd colored water, may your soul ping pong down to the levels of hell. You got off easy you sick pervert.

~ patrik

broken voices

it's been several weeks- since ive been posting.

i've been playing nice with all the other lunatics in here. just been keeping a low profile. thinking.

grumbled voices in harmony swell in my head at a crescendo pitch that makes the hair on the back of my head stand on end. as if the devil himself has sent his minions to crawl from my spine and suffocate me while i sleep.

yes....these are the dreams i've ben having as of late.

ive only been close to death twice.

its a surreal experience that has given me an almost euphoric hard on for life. I'm not religious, I never was. But as I AM CONFINED in this dwelling of old. I have been working on accepting my fate. But a fate that I WILL DETERMINE.



-patricK

"All the towers of ivery are crumbling"

It's raining here today. Those little drops of tears from heaven tap at my window pane. It's supposed to be Spring~ what happened to those days of flowers popping up from the carrion filled hollowed ground?

I have been spending my days and nights thinking about all that is hopeful. Perhaps its the new meds doc has me on. Perhaps I have given up trying to figure out what my future holds.

I watch as my cement walls continue to fuse together, tighter~ I think they're trying to squeeze me out. Everyday at 0930 I walk heel to toe around the perimeter of my cubical which has always been ten by eight feet. But for the last week I have discovered that it has shrunken by almost an inch. I took off my pasty white, lace less loafers to be certain. I typically do this to double check my math. There is a half inch difference due to the manufactured rubber sole. But this can also be problematic, because I have in the past let my toe nails grow for months and months so they become pressed against the inside of my shoes. Though they have been slowly curving to accommodate the tight fit.

Regardless~ I scribble all my wavy measurements on the wall with a nub of charcoal I snuck from art class.

In solitary the cubicles are much smaller. seven by five. It's like sleeping in a mausoleum, cold, damp, no windows, no bed, just a soiled stained mattress. There used to be a pillow when I first was placed in there. But I think Henri used it to kill himself after only a week. So now we're left with nothing.

A week, how funny that a big pussy like him couldn't handle it. He was in for filleting his wife and kid. Copping insanity. You think someone who had enough patience to do that and withstand the site of so much blood and carnage could hack it. He only made it through six months before he decided to stab Clarence in the throat with a chicken leg bone he smuggled out of the cafeteria.

Or was it a toothbrush- sometimes these little slices of memory just meld.