Little Blue Briefcase

You dropped your briefcase sweetheart.

It's funny how you kept walking down that ever busy sidewalk without it. You left it here unintentionally in my hands. Caring or not, loving or destructive. The contents of your blue briefcase are at the mercy of me.

Please don't hate me, but curiosity got the best of me when I saw tears dripping from the 4 part lock of your blue briefcase. Too many people feel their birthdays are a safe combination.

Your birthday was printed on the handle. It spoke no words when I opened it. I almost mistook it for being blank when only smoke escaped. Only smoke gasping for air and scarred & scared sacred little velvet cigarettes.

You never came back for your baby. You must notice it's missing. It's your little blue briefcase.

Katie.

Kathleen, why can't you comprehend
that not all lives are meant to blend?

Even if I did meet you in a life when we were both cats. Cats that slept under the dead of night, watching shooting stars scrape against the ozone letting in an absence of anything. Ripping holes in humidity. Oh Kathleen, you were always a better Kat.

But Katie dear, your blood is thickening. Your being thrown up against walls and forgotten about. They forget to put food in your bowl and water you do you grow nice and tall. Sprouting in all directions getting ready for harvest.

Katie, Katie, Katie. You never did quite learn how to be fruitful. You always kept to yourself and watched the cars slide on icy patches. Spinning and turning and screeching with their distant red tail lights. They screamed your name, didn't they?

Kate! Why, oh why Kate! Why did you have to play your violin so loudly that Sunday morning? You know full well that Sundays are for rest in this house. So you jumped ship and hoped that you had learned how to swim in a past life. But no such luck. I think you must have been a rock in your past life. Yeah Kate, you must have been a rock. Be my rock Katie?

Won't you be my stone.

You know my name.

Well it's not the way
You looked at me
When you said that
Everything could be
And I swore I'd
Never understand what you meant
When you said that this is
Just a place, to practice feelings
Charm and grace
I never said I'd understand
A thing.

But you seem to have a way
With words and you just steal away
Protecting yourself at any cost
Or means
You said you knew it wasn't fair
To just leave me standing out there
But you couldn't help yourself
It seems

Well it's not because
You said my name
The real one,
that you had learned
But the way you said it
Tone of voice
Licking your lips
And tasting concern

So give me patience
Kiss my wounds

now.

I've definitely got to stop thinking. Not in any sort of developmental thinking. No, but I'd like to stop turning over broken glass and looking through old boxes. There's nothing there any more. The cardboard is ripped and the glass yields no reflection.
That only leaves the future, if there ever was such a thing.
We're all radios just tuning into each other's frequencies. Sometimes we get real good at it and we can hold it there. But other times...we just lose track. The dial spins and we can't find each other anymore. Like an old man fumbling around in the dark we trip and become blind to any frequency we ever held.
But in the memory of events we create a past. Two sides of the same coin reveals a future, but where does that leave the present? The NOW.

It's always the now. Right now. Even now. You're always living in the now. We all operate on this same plane of existence. This now; dancing pretty little ballroom twirls and sexy tango dips atop this rusted collectible coin. Shoving our hands in our pockets and watching kites catch the ever-elusive wind and soar.

It's still now. Tune in.

colossus

and so it is unsettling. to be at one with such a monster that shares this space. a monster that I've known for far too long. he and I have become close, to my unease of course. but i couldn't bear to ignore the lust that goes on in my self when this monster swells inside my being. this hollow shell of a body that i've come to occupy is nothing more than a vessel to deliver disappointment and hatred, or rather inspire it within others.

when an act is said and done however,
i do no more than shake hands with him
and wink.

no one understands this villainous phoenix.
burning brightly to explode in a murderous flash.
born again slowly from the ashes of memories.
i won't pretend to.

this beast is a demon that I hate, but can't help but be overcome by. and when it does shake my morality and cover me in a repulsive abhorrent veil...i'm swallowed. i become something i would never intend to be or wish upon anyone.

let it wash over me, it's the only way to survive. let me become the beast.

?

I can't pretend that I didn't do it. Obviously, I did as it's staring me in the face. But I had to do it. Everyone needs light in life. Everyone needs that unmatchable feeling of illumination. To be cast out of shadow and live in the energy beating down on your face. So, I stole it. It's not like anyone's going to miss it, there are plenty. People may question my motives and maybe deem me as less than the rest. Like somehow, I'm less of a human being for stealing. If anything, I believe thievery makes one more human.

It's something we all have, yet most of us choose to pretend to be better than what we really are. All of us play this charade that we're upstanding human beings who want peace and crave a hand holding across the globe. The truth of the matter is that no quicker than a dog runs to a bag of dog food do we want to see a person die. We make it socially unacceptable to murder, but it runs in our blood. It's pouring through our very veins. Through your veins as you read this. You may think to yourself: "No. I could never do that." But you don't have to pretend for me or for yourself or anyone else. Take two seconds and dwell within your inner self. You know deep down that you're a killer. You're a murderer. It's buried deep within us, instinctually.

When no one is looking, you love it. You live in that underlying instinctual self. Your eyebrows furrow and social yes and no's fly out the window. And you can't tell me that it doesn't feel...phenomenal... to be your true self. To be what you were born to be. Human beings have this concept planted deep within their consciousness from the beginning of their physical lives that they are not to steal, kill, etc. Were there no government, no one patrolling the streets, I think we would all do what we had to do to survive pretty quickly.

This brings me to another point. What is the point of surviving? What is our end game? So we keep the human race around for another couple thousand years. Then what? We achieve nothing more than we have in the past 2000? Only recently have we jumped ahead and found all this science and electronic know-how. But where did it all come from? Why did it appear out of nowhere after thousands of years of nothing. Stone buildings, simple machinery.

A mere 200 years ago we were curing sicknesses by sucking the blood out of the ill. We went from dumb as rocks to advanced technological people who can wire circuit boards no bigger than your thumb nail and watch full movies on a screen that fits in your pocket. Where did we come from? Why are we here? What have we done as murderous primitive beings to deserve such blessings? Is there a God? Or were we created by way of genetic mutation and simply deemed our creator who had the knowledge of such mutation as a God who traveled through space from planet to planet?

I'd like to know.

Volcano

Volcano