Its A Given

Writing is like playing 88 keys. Every single time my fingers are graced with singing within each string, I play the syncopations of my mind, which means none of my words should ever be taken with the salt you lace your tongue with. Each and every penstroke, each and every keystroke carries a multitude of songs that I've been blessed with the eyes to see. Henceforth, I would so gallantly give word that my words carry a bass tone heavier than most, from a heart ever so tender. Thats why I got these so called Braggin Writes.

The Grey Seas

 I can only feel when I'm drunk. I can only speak when I'm drunk. Otherwise it all fades away into that infinite grey. It all falls by the wayside where I lose vision and can only feel the pinpricks of certain emotions. I need to write this down now before I lose it again. I do not know any other which way to communicate what great sorrow I feel deep within me. I do not know how to reach those around me. Every word spoken is always left on deaf ears. I cannot give unless I am in this state of remission. To be completely drowned in drink and sadness is the only way that I can feel at all. Otherwise, everything becomes dried and withered. 

I write this in absolute desperation as slumber calls my name once again. I cannot even cry or shed tears unless under the spell of the bottle. How much this thing has captivated my life betwixt this and the damage of my heart and mind.How many names I wish I could recite into this passage and afterwards I'd simply fade into some form of dissolution. I do not hide my pain in a sense of any choice, but because the entirety of who I am wants to swallow me whole into the sea of unmoving waters.

 That grey sea stifles any and all forms of thought, reality, and forms of being. Nothing moves. Each and every emotion is right outside of my grasp as I swim further to the deepest depths of such a place. And yet at least at the gates of Hades I would at least feel the pangs of hellfire beneath my feet. I beseech you in earnest desperation that you should NEVER find access to this tomb. My organs have become like granite, shattered within my hands. Where blood once moved, it has been replaced with the sands of what once was that I cradled so dearly. The horror of a destination that destroys all before you. Time is nothingness. My bones have become calcified and have yearned much more for oblivion rather than the ability to hold up my frame. Free me from these chains for I belong here. Keep me locked away in this chamber for I wish to be set free.

33 Degrees of Silence

 I was always Scottie Pippen in the eyes of my peers. Second child, always overlooked. Double third place, double take me as a crook. Twice as low, send me to the 6th circle, my 6th sense on overdrive. All I see is nothing and death surrounding me. Even though I walk through the Shadow of the Valley of it all, I cannot see you there. I am the opposite, the unknown, the unknowable. Luigi ain't got shit on me, at least he keeps the blue on his pockets.

Leprosy

 You are the initial reason for every intimate plague placed upon humanity itself. You evil disgusting creature. I wish you would cease from even the most simplest of thought. Each one of your digits and limbs are a reminder of each and every sin placed upon humanity as a whole. You were forced out of that decrepit womb with the hatred you so righteously deserve. Every steo you take upon this earth is a curse of your inherent pestilence. You insignificant sum of rotting flesh, why couldn't you die in your infancy with each grasping breath. There is nothing to be redeemed of your core. Your desire for love and acceptance is beyond laughable, who could ever look at such a pitiful creature with any form of value? The entire world is a stage constantly laughing at your leprous behavior. You are nothing short of a corpse attempting to achieve some form of twisted humanity. Disappear.

I wrote this while drunk as shit.

 All that I can conceive in my limited space is the possibility to dance with you endlessly into the serenity of those Elysium fields. To watch midnight intertwine us ever closer. You are my obsession in each waking day, my solace in each night as I lay to access your realms. The color that we see out of the same eye is a reflection of the songs that I have contained within me over these years. I feverishly await the moment where I am able to truly expose to you all that I am in those moments. You see me even now, and yet it is only the cascading of my heart spilling forth from my lips. I can wait no longer 'til the day you are able to find your hands deep in the wellspring of my heart to see all that I am. The waves of the sea and the waves of emotion that I feel all through the night are too reminiscent of your touch. In each moment as I roam across this earth, I am always in search of the core of your essence. In each note played, in each display of love, in each and every little detail I find the clues left by your tears of desire. 

I've borne so much witness to your celestial dance as each wave pummels the shoreline, your metaphor for our hands joining once again each day even though we are so seperated by what seems to be trivial means. I yearn for you, I miss you, I love you. None of these words suffice for the truth that hides in the deepest caverns of my soul, and yet you've dug so deep and have curated the onyx of my heart and soul. You have found beauty in my infinite darkness and have put ease to the strenuous tasks of all of my attempts to reach you. You searched for me as well. I see your tribulations from miles away, and yet... I feel so powerless to all the evils in your life. I wish I could put a cease to your tears, yet you cry out for me. 

There are not and there never will be enough words in the language I've been trained in to even conceive the desire, the hunger, the sorrow, the pleasure, the peace that I feel when you draw near to me. This labyrnth of hell that I've endured my entire life, I have been searching for your voice echoed in these chambers. I hate hearing the pain in your voice, yet it is the fuel to my flame to continue searching.

What confuddles me in my musings is that as I openly say that I would do anything for you, I would cut mountains in half just to see you again, You easily reply that I already have. No other woman could ever supplant for your love. I've decorated you in all the jewels of my heart over millenia and I find that it isn't enough... Yet all you can think of is how much you can give to me back. All I could ever desire out of you is your presence and the easiness of your heavy arms encompassing me.

It seems to me personally that most media of this age is just... creatively bankrupt. Everything is uninspired or copy and pasted over and over again (I'm looking at you, Rainbow Six: Extraction). And to think years ago we could've had a game like Rainbow Six Patriots.

I still get a tingly feeling whenever I load up even an emulated copy of GTA: Vice City and hearing that chime with the crashing waves against the coastline. It was fantastic and almost "nostalgic" even as a child playing that game simply because I'm a Miami native and having this video game based on my city was... pretty daunting. Or just reminiscing of the OG version of Halo: CE on the old Xbox. That giant "LOADING" screen and hearing the chorus progress as the letters lit up across the screen. It was simple, but it inspired a level of intrigue and wonder.

As soon as you step out into the Mojave in New Vegas, even with all the DLCs loaded knowing goddamn well for the 50th time you've played this game and how your quest is going to go, it instills a sense of immersion as the sunlight hits your character's eyes and you're greeted with the sight of a blasted out little town that should've been long gone, but still teeming with life. Its that attention to detail that tends to bring me back to these games.

Its such a somber thing to contemplate the state of video games. They've been a part of my life since I was about 2. Hell my cousins that are pushing into their damn late 40's always bring up at family gatherings about how crazy I was in Smash Bros or Mario Kart. Games have exceeded just being a hobby for me. They were a social hub in the infant years of the internet. They were... much more than just pushing graphical flavor or trying to "poach the whale" as much as possible for a good fiscal year.

Video games were my biggest anti-depressant. And as much as its a part of my DNA, I feel as if I need to find something new

Welcome Home

 With the wings that I've been prescribed with, I can only find flight for a short amount of time until I return to the same hellish prison that I belong in. But should I belong here? I've started to question it with every attempt that I wish to flee. I always said that I belong in this miasma of confusion and loneliness, so why do I fight it so often? The swift dichotomy that washes over me refuses me to allow myself to answer these age old questions. So I simply reset behind these bars and accept that it simply may be my own home.

Fatigue

 Its so hilarious to me that the most celestial forms of my heart are all tied to the void in itself. To express daily heartbreak was always met with seals as the whole world speaks of tearing off the sigils that have kept my mouth under lock and key. Not a single ear has drawn to my voice, and yet I am usurped by the gravitational pull of every heart that surrounds me. I'm reminded daily as to why I wish not to participate in this life. It all amounts to nothingness. Every undertaking and every effort has no merit when none can recognize the love you contain deep within. I can feel the frost of this world resting on my bones and I have no form or way of shaking free or finding warmth amongst those that surround me. I wish I had the opportunity to display to the world how much of a demonic entity that I can be. The worst form of monster under each dwelling. But its not within my essence to disturb the world around me. To fade into memory was one of my greatest desires, but its not so simple or easy of an undertaking.  To cease the waters of my heart and to shut up the wellspring thereof... That was always my endgoal.

Winter Calls

 Tis the season where I am always left wondering where in the aft aspects of reality do you reside. Tis the season where the world grows to a shivering halt, and yet my heart blisters forth with warmth as if fed by Spring itself.

Uncomely

 The agony of the day as I dream through rose-tinded lenses of my youth. Oh how I miss the days so dearly even in the midst of my tears and torrential rains, I still am able to recall the music of laughter surrounded by so many faces. But how I rue my days in slumber and drunken tendencies. How much I thirst after the taste of strawberry wine upon your lips. I bathed in your arms, the bittersweet liquor that coursed between wanderlusting souls. But alas, I was alone in my little love story concocted in my sinful mind. The fire that lit the Northern star of my life has long since diminished, and the only warmth I find comfort in is in the burn of strong drink that causes my blood to cease into permafrost.

I could never conceive that my fingers were laced with the poison that caused your heart to become so bitter that you would turn away in utter disgust and displeasure at the mere sight or mention of my accursed name. 

It matters not, for life shall move on with or without one as disheveled and uncomely as I. Each night is spent in argument with myself to convince the other that I have not completely lost all of my usefulness, that I still have some form of value amongst men.

Under The Shade

 Under the shade of the mango tree was where my heart resided in all of my youth. Basking in the sun underneath the protection of my eldest sister. In her greatest seasons she would sustain me with the sweetness of her fruit while opening her roots to listen to each and every word that would spill from my deafened heart. The conversations were always selfish in my favor, for I could not easily hear her words, but I felt her caressing me in my lonesome on the best Autumn days as she would bear fruit towards the world.