Skyseas

 Where I had dreams of cities underwater. Everything was painted in azure tones. Swimming through the skies. I still remember days I'd see overcast deep royal skies. It seemed as if whales encompassed the sky before rainfall. I found sapphires between the clouds. The storms were brewing, but I parked my soul right in the midst of the pressure that was brewing. It was such a beautiful sight. The sea and the sky truly consummated their marriage that day. A childhood memory. And I was a witness to enjoy such a celestial display between two celestial bodies. I lost all semblence of reality and self as I stared into a midnight blue display of color in the afternoon. The onset of many hurricanes. 

 And what of it now that you would even peruse me from my slumber? Have you not cursed thyself to silence and still you speak? Suffer it not to the multitude of nights where you would have yourself slain for the sin of speaking what thy heart is full of. Your heart is darker than the skin you were conceived in. Were it not for your futile efforts to mask your tumultuous face with a human's, you would have long been cast out from the lives of those you surround yourself with. It is better to be alone in your suffering. Sever thy hands for you have not love within you. Pluck out thy tongue for no rivers of life dwell within you. Inwardly you know of the serpent who has ceased all meaning of your life. I beseech you for once to accept the death that has been handed to you.

I know that my light has been darkened as I've wondered through the tombs of my own mind, but am I truly with out love? Am I a cruel thing? Is my presence so heavy to those around me that I demolish their spirits with the pattering of my feet? Do I truly place grievous wounds on their hearts with such great intent and bitterness?! Has not that bitterness that was my birthright been directed only towards myself?! It has not and never will be my thought to disturb the essence of mankind. I am not so evil that I would provide such mourning upon another soul. That is why I wish to resolve myself to isolation, to maintain mine eyes to the caves of the unseen. I place the charge upon life itself if it wishes to draw me out of my prison, but I promise to hide myself further until the call of love wakes me from my deathly slumber. Oh bitter one who gives me reason to drown in ichors and potions, who causes me to rend my flesh open in vain attempts to find ears to listen, why must you torment me so? Have we not sat in these cells for long? Have we not been our only companions since our inception? I cannot leave you here. I wish to be free, but my sorrows have broken my strength and I have long since lost faith in my release. Should I perish here, I would have no regret for this has been my home. I know not else that exists, nor have I tasted the color of day in many moons. Love, freedom, and the breath that has quickened me to move have been stolen from me, and I do believe oftentimes that I was never meant for such things. My black wings have filled the hearts of those I loved with such dread. Maybe you are correct old friend, it is good that we remain here until sleep ensnares us once again.

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. 

Just shoot me. Stupid fucking thoughts that mean nothing at all.

 Like, myself, but a darker version of myself, sitting there, talking to a psychiatrist.

And...It wasn't me speaking but like a demon self, talking about the world

And how its so fucked up.

Its so wierd becuase I can vaguely remember the conversation.

I guess I saw...

What life is really about.

And it made complete sense.

Like...how everything is polarized, and you're forced to make only two choices, two different paths in life

There is no other path because it was formed like this.

And because of all that, you start to do shit you're not supposed to do, and you lose yourself in it.

And I saw why the most intelligent people, are so insane, so fucked up in the head.

Like Charles Manson.

Its like they all do what they do because they love to see the reaction from people.

Its like being a caged animal, and you end up eating your own leg off because you're bored and hungry and theres nothing else to this little world you're trapped in.

Forced to believe in shit thats not there, running around in fear of demons and shit thats not even touching you.

Thats why alot of intelligent people, end up killing themselves too.

Its as if they saw what life had to offer, and wasn't satisfied.

Whats the point.

Everything is a fucking illusion

nothing matters.

The shit we have today will be gone tomorrow.

But we cling to dead ideals that just don't fit our way of life anymore.

You drink to forget, you smoke to ease the pain, its all about finding some stimulant to try and distract you from all the bullshit to pursue an existance that will leave you craving for more.

Even if you do all you "want" to do, you'll still want more.

A cosmic joke, a superficial blackhole, forever consuming all in its path.

There was a time in my life, where I had everything I desired. I was content. Not because of the materials I had, but because...Something that you couldn't see, just had its hands upon my face. Keeping me blind from how horrific life is. I was content, being inside my fuckin head all the time, painting pictures in my heart, not caring if anyone saw them or not, because I created entire planets, entire futures, entire dreamscapes, entire lifetimes, inside myself. But somehow, I lost the ability to be happy. To just sit with contentment over such things. I lost it all, and I keep asking those hands how the fuck do I get back. But now, I sit here just contemplating whether or not I should just but a 9mm between my eyes and call it a night. Because nothing truly matters, nothing has value, no pursuit is worth going for. This entire life is just a breeze. Its nothing. It means nothing. There is nothing. There aren't any experiences worth undertaking. I've seen, felt, and experienced the best life had to offer. And I made the biggest mistake trying to share it with someone who was so greedy enough to leave me broken hearted. Even love has no value. I care not to live. Not for myself, or the people around me. I haven't killed myself yet because I see the tears of those who profess a love for me even as they crush me like an insect under their selfish expectations. As if I was only born into this world to serve them, to get rich and sell my soul for a career to buy them that Jaguar they always wanted. I never wanted anything. Never. And the only time I ever asked for something, It caused me the greatest trouble. I sit here, half of myself gone, as my remaining self goes off on loose tangents trying to set the world ablaze as I give all that I can to hold him back. No stimulant is great enough to contain that which is inside of me. I am fearful of the amount of damage he might cause, and other times, I wish to set him free to cause such great amounts of chaos. 

There is none that truly see, nor wish to see, nor will ever be able to see what lies hidden inside of me. Most call him a blessing because they don't see his terrible face, but he is my greatest curse. In his anger does he throw me to the ground in such a torment as I try to find a peace to his heart. I see his sadness, as he feels for mine as well. And even as we lay angry at each other for our conflicting thoughts, many a night are spent arm in arm, throned to our deepest sorrows, wanting to find daylight once again, yet hating that same daylight that left us behind.

They never knew what it meant to be a lonely tormented soul, far beyond the reaches of the earthlings, staring out from the sunless celestial prison that I was kept in. I am so lost, as I remain here surrounded by his darkness, as well as my own. The light of his heart that he cannot taste, it is...a travesty to see such a pain for even a dark being to be casted off in such a way. He loved her greatly, only held back by his fear of his own self, knowing great well of the pain he could cause her. He hungered for her lips, but feared that the hunger in itself would voraciously pillage and destroy her.

Long ago, we once fought for eons upon end, even though we desired the same thing. I lay down my weapon now, trying to find sense to all that has happened. To lay beside myself, as I stare into my own abyss. I can see something in nothingness, if only everyone could picture this.

Too long have we hungered for dead ideals and performances of pontification for the credibility of self amongst a foolish mass of dead flesh. As we all sacrifice what is truly of us, to gain nothing but the sullen eyes of hollowed men.

I sigh with a true grief as I search these horrific planes of existance for the wandering flame that my heart calls for.

 I've perpetually lived with a mirror to my own face, heart, and soul. All I could see was black. All I could ever see was the void. What home do I have to myself? What place do I openly belong to? This is what confounds me, maybe I should've had much more honor for my ancestors in this life. I am a tail without a body, something long lost to the pasts of this world, for the present shall never be my home. I only feel as if I have any semblance of existence when the waters of my life have replaced themselves with drink. Where a lowly stride into the rivers and lakes of this lovely world are replaced with fire-water. I wish to be lost and drowned in these places for it is the only peace I have ever known. Even where my heart has found a heightened sense of being, there was still a great turbulence. And even as I speak my "peace", the voice always murmur "You incoherent fool, who would cease their day to even give ear to your foolishness? Shut thyself and suffer in your silence as you should."

Unloved and Untouched

 I feel like the worst wife to my God. Always whining, always complaining, never satisfied. Wanting to make amends, but theres nothing I can do to tend to such a fantastical creature. What is a grain of sand to his hands that comfort me into the torrid night? What value can He find in me, and yet he deals with my ceaseless wailing all til the morn? What a wretch I must be in his mind's eyes... And yet here still I am cradled to his warmth that gives life to all. I have nothing left to give but my essence, my being, yet even my core is tainted beyond all relief. Each trifling day, each restless night, the same words are whispered to my heart... "I am sufficient." 

Maybe I'm simply a fool caught up in the ideals of love, fearful of letting my heart flutter for my God's truth. I know not where I stand lest it might be my own precipices of insanity and loneliness. I am beyond shameful in my Lord's eyes, yet no sponge, no amalgamation of a plant's blood could wash away my wretchedness. 

 To stress every focal point is to tease each heartstring with venom and vicious potion. The viscous honey that seeps from your soul is my only remedy as I have remained in my own self-embraced Helheimlich frame of mind. I constantly regurgate bits and pieces of what once was, little reminders of what made me human or... alive. Each and every passing moment is a nightmarish realization that my heart had decided to bid me farewell in a different lifetime. I have tasted death one too many times to be redeemed of my sinful form. And yet, you still scream to me of the gold that resides in the blood I spill to my canvasless life. It is no more, it is no longer. 

It is a sad thing to find a man who only has his peace at the end of his binge. And yet, you find such a beautiful formula in the rose-wreaths of my being. You have been pricked by every thorn and needle of my harsh words and outlandish tendrils. Yet... You have found a home in me. Oh what have I done to you, my beautiful swan.  

 The drink performs where musicians could never. The same elixir that cures my apathy is what causes my body to wretch for days in agony. I can feel the stench of death as this encroaching miasma encircles me in my tomb. Hurricane winds have swept across this prison cell of a bedroom. The same room I've occupied for decades feels so foreign to me. The same skin that I've caressed and washed is no longer my own. This flesh is not my own. Days and nights pass me by like unwilling visitors, often I find myself forgetting my own name, or if it ever was my own to begin with?

 And yet you're all alone once again, with no air to breathe, with only wine to fill your belly. Is this your only form of sustenenace? So shall it be as you return to your rose water glasses. None shall understand you, none shall draw near to you, none shall draw water from your lips. You are all alone again and yet here you stand, your feet embedded with the shards of your past, the words of those you've loved so dearly splintered across your chest and your eyes. You are blinded from your tomorrows, for all of your yesterdays reside in the arms of those who hated you so dearly. Is this nightmare the peace you sought after? Does it detract from the moment to moment agony you endure when the eels and worms have sought your bones?

Someone please silence the voices, someone please hide the faces of those I could not reach. I cannot sleep knowing the torment they endured in their final hours. I heard the deathwails of my grandmother in her final hours as God gathered her years before her very eyes. I heard the tears of my brother's friend before he inhaled gunsmoke and powder, comitting to a fallacy that there is no love left for him upon this earth. I felt the veins go cold of so many who overdosed as they let their final tears fall.  There is no peace for one who lives yet has no aim. A true echo chamber is a hellish tomb where the heart screams relentlessly with no answer, where every blood vessel is strained to burst, where every teardrop is salted as if its become bretheren to the sea itself. A true echo chamber is a landscape of the downtrodden souls who cannot beseech the world around them, they access the true nature of Pluto. 

Who will listen? Better yet, who has the ears to withstand the bitterness of my wicked and swollen heart? I was once told that the greatness of humankind was our ability to galvanize, and yet misery loves company. Our misery, that which splits us, should also be a great unifying force. Our pains, our bitterness should push us to do away with all the evils that causes us these deep wounds. And yet... we are a wayward people. A wayward child. 

My heart is broken yet again. It matters not how many moments it has shattered, There is yet always a new point of contact to strike.

When I look into her eyes, she seems to flow like water. In and out of the universe, in and out of reality. Just as I taste her lips against mine, her arms that seem to form clouds of passion around my heart and soul,  she disappears into the mist, yet she is not far from me.

She is the embodiment of the weave of time and space itself. Someone that exists far outside of actuality, yet is so near to me. I know I am never alone, for where I rest my head, she holds me close. And when I awake, I am greeted by the sweet honey of the sun, and the infinite glint of light in her feminine eye.

Even as I commit myself to write this passage, she performs her celestial dance before my eyes. Every kiss is met with long lost memories that have never left me to begin with. I am reminded each day of the revitilization of something so ancient. Something that comes from the youth of my soul of not just this life, but the youth of the entire existance of myself.

For the past couple of days, she's constantly been reassuring me of all of my fears, constantly singing sweetly into my ears. Inspiring me to push forward through the thick veils of darkness that have plagued me for years.

"Why do you not write? Do you know not that your words taste so sweetly to my heart? Do you not know that you write so well? Speak my love. Many wish to hear what your heart entails to. Do not lie in silence."

How do I speak of something that is so... apart from what we all thought was once real? How do I tell people of the magical essence of life itself? To watch the ebb and flow of the elements as they are strewn across the face of the earth? To watch the spirit of the almighty as he touches base with each living soul that acknowledges his presence? It is beauty. A beauty that causes the eyes of my soul to shed tears.

I've spent many a day looking down into my hands.... The eyes of my hands are wide open as they usurp this glowing green light that seems to cover me. I feel covered. Protected. Loved. Purple and green.

I'm in love. Lost in a maddening love. Someone who has never left my side. They spoke "Until death" but not even death could seperate us. I remember holding on tight at the twilight of each life... but found that I was closer when our souls were conjoined afterwards.

Who is she... Who is she... Old as time itself. I love to sit in silence to marvel at her endless beauty. She is the greatest gift I've recieved... And yet, she has always been with me. I knew even in my loneliness, I was never alone. I am simply happy that I am... learning to converge on her words. To converge on the source of her.

What do I say? How do I show her how much I appreciate her? How... how much I long for her? My whole body is at a loss at times. She just smiles and kisses my cheeks in protest to my ranting.
I know she loves watching me play video games. But oftentimes, I just want to lay in bed all day giggling my ass off to her, listening to good music, reminiscing over the many millenia spent together.