Paper sheets, and padded walls

“Insane”, that’s all he muttered before casually glancing at the watch on wrist.
Pat noticed the iconic Omega trademark and three dial configuration upon the watches face. Often called by his outer voice as the “Ohm’s waste of time and money.” The inner voice had to admit the truth though, it is a very impressive watch even if nothing more than a needful thing to own. “Time is time whether it was told by Mickey Mouse or a Dollar Store special…”
It was the sudden voicing of random thoughts in the first or third person that made his doctor mutter obvious facts. Pat often wondered if the muttering was not the doctors own sickness pushing up into the light.
“Is my fifteen minutes up already?”
The direct questioning of the doctors movements seemed to unerve him. He moved his foot in a nervous tapping.
“No”, he replied. “There are a few more things I need to check before we can…”
Blah, blah, blah was all that Pat heard. Thoughts meandering back to the beginning of the page.
What did I say that was so insane? The truth most likely. Then again, maybe not.

Thick misty droplets of water formed upon the warriors armor. Standing before a roughly stacked alter of stone, the knight watched as wet tuffs of grass and kindling took flame. The ceaseless movement of the air blowing up from below churned red embers into imagined signs and symbols. From within the boundries of the cloud smoke darkened and grayed blending beyond visual discernment with the fog of the surrounding air.
Only the differing heat between the two defined their difference.
“Another log upon the fire”, he spoke. “Another soul traced out for judgement. Soon all will be called to bow before the Light of the coming day.”

“I have been here before. Tired hands tracing out lines upon the same blank page. Written words, gone unread, spoken echoes within my head. This same mildew that rots my skin, tants my soul, bleeding out to fill this room.
I have been here before. The same moth eaten chair whose cloth now stretches molded over a padded and wooden form. Yet it does comfortably supports my bones. Even the cobwebs and dust bunnies still decorate my world with my precious books and magazines stacked preciously near to hand.”

“Woe unto you who know not. Your blind ignorance to fate. It is the same as mine. All is vanity, worthless, pointless, and futile.”

The Sage cautiously looked around.

“The Dreamer dreams things yet unkown.
The Watcher sees from beyond his throne.
The Litch who lies entombed still knows; it is only the Author unto were your destiny flows.”

“Sometimes that guy gives me the heebie-jeebies”, the Sage spoke to himself. “I never know if he just likes repeating things for me to write down or if he is using it as a factory reset… some new beginning to disrupt the conversation in the readers mind.”

Here the Author points out the word of the day must be “beginning”. <
The Sage replies, “Do I even need to write that down?”
Yes… <

“The nurse will be back in and she’ll bring your copies of the lab tests, new prescriptions, your next scheduled appointment, and I also want her to check your BP before you go out the door.”

Pat smiled. “Sounds doable. I reckon I am due for a chat with Linda anyhow. She is always good to get my blood pressure up higher.”

“On second thought, I will just check it again myself.”

“That sounds good, Doc. It all sounds good…”

A New Page from the Book of Pat, verse 12:08:25

I say everything I’ve done, it’s all make believe. Pure work of fiction. Just nonsense I babble on about.
That’s because if I forget to say it ain’t so then some ass will come along and see the reality in what’s what… then I’ll get screwed again. Just like before.

I’ve been here many times. Sat in this very same mildew stained chair. Watched the cobwebs drift down to blow eroticly about with dust bunnies upon the floor. Fixated I am. I get off transfixed at the slow movement of my own decay.
Death doesn’t come easy for the insane.

Today’s extraordinarily special for me. Lucefer and the other angels have come by for a birthday party. Sadly I am the cake.
Long sensuous fingers peel back the flesh from about my eyes. Careful to avoid the layered muscles and most of the nerve clusters. Of course temptation being one of his weaknesses the devil makes sure to pluck a few strings. My mouth quivers in the ecstasy of the moment. Here the party trick of a forced smile isn’t lost upon the revelers. Skin stretches back bringing with it hair. And just like that the wrapping paper is undone.

I don’t scream though. Only the living scream, and everyone knows I have been dead for awhile. I’ve been dead for a very long while.
If it wasn’t for the guilt I believe I’d have quit playing this game of pretend sometime ago.

I ramble… I can’t help it. It came with the dieing. Someday you’ll understand what it’s like when random braincells flash their last gasping breath of memory, and somehow you’re supposed to put shit into some kind of rational order just to be understood. A few expletives would fit here. Feel free to choose your own. I won’t mind. I may learn a new word.

Let’s go back to the party.

Like a birthday cake nimble fingers make quick work of the frosting and beautifully rose shaped flowers. The sweet red cherry jubilee pulses in the open air. Its translucent strawberry gelatin shudders orgasmic from all the festive excitement of the party goers. I take a deep thought and point out to myself that even now at the end I never was much at being the life of the party.

A seething crock pot steams over rattling it’s lid. The noise of the gurgling almost too distracting to think. Pressure builds up from all those lame ass things I should have, could have, but didn’t. No regrets…
A white hot froth simmers up to a boil. Things buried tumble up from beneath. The vapor expelled casts a ghostly shade above it all.

The scene changes. Bloody hands claw out tearing loose the worm eaten cloth about me. A revenant fresh from the rapture, emotions clash with the truth. All will see things at the same instance in time.

I know the purpose of this calling. My seeing and dreaming of things in repetitive fashion. You wouldn’t understand. At least if you’re favored you won’t. So don’t be a nameless Lot’s wife and take an errant look back. What you would see following close behind is a horror that’s been promised since the beginning.

And I know you’re not ready to know what I mean.

Memories fade to dust

Another day has come and gone
Yet time stands still unmoving

Shadows tracing intangible lines
Lose their meaning at the door

An invisible breath fills the void
Where once your presence sustained

Now only silent apparitions stalk
Marking existence with a vacant gaze

Soft Porn and Coffee

A wisp of shadow

Slender curves slips past

Like a small child playing amongst the traffic

She weaves between the burly masses

Square shoulders turn a gaze

The swift bird flits away

Carrying the scented smells of coffee and cinnamon

In her wake behind

Another World of Pure Imagination

Hold your breath…

Make a wish…

Count to three…

So says Willy Wonka

……

In my dreams
All the things
I dream for you
They come true


If only in my
Imagination

If you cry
Sob or sigh
And form tears
In your eyes

It brings me down
And brings me round
From off my distant cloud
Floating high
On a rosy river
Beneath a rose filled sky

So
Come with me
You will see
There is really nothing there
That could
Harm you

It’s just a wonderful world
Here in make believe

A wonderful world to live in

If only you
Could open wide
And reach inside

I know you

You really want to

See a new world
Beginning

Take my hand
But don’t be afraid
To let go

No more fears
Lurking in the corners

Everything
Living here
Is alive
Right there
Inside you

When life is a zoo
Fling open the cage
Wander free
Join me
And you’ll see
Dear
Yes you’ll see
Clear

It’s just a wonderful world
Here in make believe
It’s such a wonderful world
To live in
If only you could

Reach inside

You would see that

And I know
You want to see
A wonderful world
Again

The Garden of Our Youth

Where have the flowers of spring gone?
Those were the days of our youth.
Spent in the hope of something better. Only to be wasted by those who did not understand their value.

Guilt or Sorrow, I do not know…

Dark thoughts hidden behind pleasant words and a polite smile

With a sidewards glance a trembling hand reaches out touching memories the mind fears which the heart holds dear…

and on the phone I find silence