'Til Dawn or The End of Time.

I used to have dreams of... Wait.
I used to have memories of...Wait.
I had a vision once of... Wait.
Okay, it could have been all three.
Or none of the above.

At my age... at my rage? At my behest?
It doesn't matter.
There was a girl there.
A Woman even.
Dark of hair, eyes dark, deep, and wet, like an ocean.
Or perhaps a pond.
My visions are cloudy. Or perhaps my dreams.

I'm no longer sure.
She had a scent about her.
Hard to describe. Harder to remember. Visualize?
Perhaps she smelled of a home. The warm scent of cookies wafting about her neck.
A scent of soft smiles and the pitter patter of little feet about the house.
Perhaps her scent smelled more like early morning in the temperate wild.
Dew, and the light tang of all night exertion. The wild scent of practicality, lust in nature.
The fight for day to day survival. The scent of doing whatever it took to see just one more morning.

But my mind wanders these days. I don't really remember.
Her lips though.
I think I can recall those.
They were full, upturned just a little in the softest of smiles.
At times, her teeth on them, just tugging a bit.
I swear, every time she spoke it was music, it was life, it was the song of the south.

No wait...

Perhaps it was always hate that escaped. Bitterness and vitriolic bile that spewed from that orifice.
Or maybe it was always lies. Two faces always behind those teeth.
I can never keep it straight anymore.
Well I should certainly remember what she was like inside.
Always warm, always caring.
So warm. Supple flesh, light kisses, always connecting on a level that could make me weep with happiness.
She was; breathing for the first time. She was; being born again. She was as vibrant and vital as sunlight.
She was the gentle nudge when needed, She was the strength that gave me strength. My backbone, my heart, my partner, my equal and my best friend.

No...

Maybe she was all crude oil and razor blades inside. A virus. Something that infected me, killed all immunities I had to everything corrupt. She was the boot on my neck, taking my breath. Turning me into something equally monstrous.
She was like radiation sickness. Burning me alive from the inside out, taking my strength and making me weep blood, a nuclear fire in my guts that destroyed me, body, mind and soul.
She was sour sweat, ferocity born of a malignant disdain for anything other than herself. Maybe in spite of herself. She was a rough tug and a vanishing act. The stench of cigarettes and a growing self hatred in my breast the only calling card she left.

Well... my mind is cloudy. Maybe she was none of the above. Maybe she was the War I saw? The only one I could ever love and hate at the same time. Maybe she was a character from a book? Maybe she never existed at all.
I'm never quite sure. My mind isn't as mindful as it used to be. Time seems to fly and take memories with it on wings of dreams.
Where did I put those memories? Or were they dreams? Maybe visions?
I'm never quite sure anymore. Everything seems to blend together these days...

Word Vomit

Too tired to write even though I should. Got a head full of too many words, but none are fitting. just images and thoughts. nothing solid, or really coherent.

Porcelain and wrought iron,
Dancing in moonlight that rapidly
fades.
Calling out to an empty ocean.
Moonlit and shallow.
Sunburned and hollow.

The End Complete

The End Complete I-IV

The days continue to stretch into eternity.
I'm still here, watching it all and seeing nothing new.
I continue to wait and wonder what will become of me.
What happened on this road?
What brought me here?
The regrets and accomplishments are deep enough to swim in.
But mostly I just float.
Too apathetic to do much else.
I'd wear it like a crown, but I just don't care enough to do so.

Fingers like dead weight struggle to even pick up a phone.
I still manage to lift all my gear.
A million conversations in my head, but one on the street, the phone, the great outdoors.... just too daunting sometimes.

There's been so many manic mouths, all clamoring, all grabbing, all reaching for the same jagged pieces shaped like a man. And they've always been the same. Different faces all wrapped around the same twisted core.
Or maybe, I'm a flame burning myself out and they just are attracted to the light.
Who can say? Certainly not I.

I still can look at my hands and find lines I throw out against walls.
My desire to live the life I want sometimes overriding my common sense.
My survival instincts.
And still the strings dangle from my fingers.
I own my mistakes, caress them like lovers.
I adopt my regrets. Care for them like children and watch them grow.
And with every year, every day, every breath they grow.