Giving Up The Empire Of Dirt

Stimulation:

The high.
The pixels.
The change.
The skin.
The ideologies.
The music.
The activities.
Dreams.

Everything fades into nothing leaving me deprived.
Forced to chase new vices, that leave me depraved.

So now we zero the clock.
Now we starve the mind.
Drain the chemicals out.
Take the high road, suffer the emptiness.
Break the cycle to go down a new path.
Fail and hell is You.
Fail and the time loop starts.

Emptiness is hell. But on the other side of emptiness is true emotion.
They fed the infant chemicals till it choked. Then they fed it some more. Watch. Consume. Junkie motherfucker. Blind to the possibilities of redemption.

But a ray slipped through the smog and you shook your fists and wailed and stuck your filthy fingers so deep down your throat you puked your guts out. And now we chase the light. The promise has been made.

Alone.

Sober.

Watchful.

Patient.

Advertisements

Chasing sorrow

Her fingers quivered slightly as she used her other hand to run the shiny blade across her upper arm, she made a near perfect line right next to the older, half healed ones. Her breathing, which had been rugged and uneven when she had first entered the washroom now slowly found it’s original rhythm as the blood flowed down her pale hands. she sighed and leaned back against the toilet seat and closed her eyes. she had a few more minutes before her next class started, which meant she had half that time to cover up the wound with a fresh band-aid from her hand bag. But for now she just felt the numbness race across her hands, the pain was there but it was just a throbbing in the background…it would pass. Till she picked her wounds open again.

He couldn’t have been more then 18, definitely not more then 20. He stumbled across the dark street in the rain, occasionally missing his footing and reaching for the building to his right to help avoid a fall. To an outsider, he was just one more drunk guy trying to get where ever he was trying to get, there sure were a lot of those around. what no one noticed, thanks to the rain, was the tears running down his cheek. He had said nasty things to her and she had returned the favor, words cold as ice cutting through mind and soul was not something he was new to. He turned into a dark ally, started throwing up, lost his already damaged sense of balance came down on all fours in his own vomit, followed by another bout of throw up. Silent till now , it finally took over him as he shook bodily with waves of sorrow washing over him, rain, tears and vomit dripping down his face in the cold December night. No he wasn’t new to this, he had been down this road countless times, and he would probably be here again. And┬ádeep down inside, he didn’t really mind , this was after all, the only time he felt alive.

Common Goddamn Cold.

“Scholars teach in Universities
And claim that they’re smart and cunning,
Tell them find a cure when we sneeze
And that’s when their nose start running” -Damian Marley

If I had to pick between shooting myself in the head and getting the common cold I’d happily kill myself. Uncomfortable, leaking, and gross, I hate my nose right now. Thousands of years of evolution, deep space travel and large Hadron colliders, virtual reality, blah, blah, blah and yet every year, at least once, I have to seriously consider chopping my damn nose off with a kitchen knife, or jumping in front of a bus.

*sniffs*.