?

Log in

What Happens When The Walls Collapse [entries|friends|calendar]
SOMEclown

[ userinfo | livejournal userinfo ]
[ calendar | livejournal calendar ]

future-dream [12 May 2013|04:31am]
in an airport. some sort of protest. arrived with a group of people. separated into 2 row blocks, maybe 10 to a row. standing. somehow suppressed, technologically. electricity maybe, although i don't recall any pain. lying on the ground, belly down. waiting there, playing draksouls. act of defiance. standing again. everyone has a screen. i assume the people in uniform, which read as u.s. military, see me playing because they say to thr group, "please exit all tables, that is a program, yadda yadda yadda.", when i am in a game menu screen. i didn't have a controller on me. i continue to play. had started a new game. thinking that if i get far enough i can use the weapons against the soldiers, who are essentially holding us captive at this point. playing with my whole body, like microsoft kinect, although this was playstation 3. approached by female solider, she tells me to quit playing. my hands are bound. i tell her i must have accidentally pressed the button on my controller to start the game. she looks for the controller, doesn't have it, asks about it, i can't find a lie smoothly, i'm taken away.
In a hotel room. it's actually two rooms separated by a bathroom. in the other room is a group of asians. a man in his 40's, and a couple in their late 20's. i remember walking through their room without invitation for some reason, they seem flustered, but not outraged. they say nothing. in my room, there is a man who is there to help us. almost shoulder length hair. like sawyer from lost, only older, shorter, and balder. i'm on a bed. the headboard of which is on the wall opposite of the door. the man is sitting in a chair at the foot of the bed, facing the door. there are uniformed men coming, he says he will handle it and that i should "more than run." or something like this. "more than escape." maybe. so, i go back through the asians room, coming in as the female is putting her top on, her back is too me. i think for sure the two males will attack me for this. i continuously say sorry and bow forward submisively to appease them (although i'm pretty sure that's a japanese thing, and i remember distinctly thinking that these weren't japanese people.) while making my way to the door. the first peephole i look out is reversed. there's another, higher. i look through it, i seem 6 men in uniform crossing the hole. 4 go to the door to my room. they are not all wearing the same uniform. some of the uniforms black maybe. 2 men stop in front of the asians door, which i am currently looking out. they are wearing u.s. marine uniforms. in panic i go back to my room, there's no way for me to exit. i assume there will be a gunfight. i hide in the bathtub behind the shower curtain, sitting. there are no shot, i'm not sure what happened to the man that was in my room, at this point. someone grabs at the shower curtain, pulls it back. my body is stiff and i remain hidden. the room is dark and the man didn't look very hard. i get up, leave, walk around.
When i get to wherever i was, most restrictions had been lifted. there were no guards, but it seemed that they were still in the structure, just in a different location, where i had been previously. here we were still under their control, but were not being directly controlled. it looked like the lobby of a movie theatre. i bumped into a girl, my ex? someone elses? her face was mostly unfamiliar. she tells me that the world is ending in 2030, i ask her if she's seen this movie before, she tells me she hasn't, i decide not to ruin it for her, i know that the world ends early. I decide i should shave my head, for a bit of disguise. i see billy, a portion of his head shaved as well. i ask him where shayla is. she's not nearby. he won't call her for me, tells me i have to call her, gives me this chip to put into my cell phone. a man approaches, he's not government but his is authority, checking people's chips. i don't have one of my own, billy tells me it's not an issue. the man gets to me, i tell him i don't have one, he's very calm and cool about it but does some sort of preliminary tests  on me as a new arrival. at this point i'm aware that i'm well in the future, in a post-apocalypse type scenario, living in a protected environment. the man asks me if there are any wires in my shirt, i laugh a bit, tell him that there are not. "shirt's never had wires in my time. except for this one shirt i remember seeing that had little red lights all over it, that read 'lights out.'" someone else had finished my sentence. it was this kid chris, who worked at fred meyer. apparently he had also been displaced in time, although i remember not believing him because he's a perpetual liar. he chat's with me an billy, about what i don't recall, billy walks away.
i follow, still trying to find out how i can get in touch with my girlfriend. he enters a room, the door shuts a little, a come in behind him. he tells me i have to knock first and points at a sign on the door. i understand that this is a new rule in this future hotel-home to maintain a sense of privacy. i apologize. tre is laying on a bed in the room. eating i think. he tells me that he always hated something that i used to do to him. his truth-telling the product of more future rules, in order to keep everyone honest and transparent. i apologized. still trying to find shayla. billy tells me she lives in the professional sector. i try to find out which sector i'm in, currently, but i see no signs. billy prepares to give me a phone number but i wake up, then promptly check to make sure my girlfriend is beside me.
i feel like i woke up because i was so into the dream, and my brain couldn't come up with a phone number, so i insta-knew it wasn't real life.
post comment

[14 Feb 2013|12:04am]
i've made my life as a wallower
not the covered in tears, but sweat
filth under the fingernails
gnaw til the finger swells
bite, bleeding gum, smoking type

one drink a night, maybe two
chase those marketplace blues
parking space feuds
romance, don't/won't dance
too tight in shoes
self-inflicted hog-tied and bruised
wounds, cute in tattoos
a waste of space if you asked me, honestly

still putting through days
all clowns on parade
paycheck to pay debt, minimum wage
sunshine and shade
still smiling
waiting, as always
still wallowing
for positive change

from an outside source, of course
1 comment|post comment

[10 Nov 2012|06:48pm]
here is something that i know:
the forces that are at work
behind the things that we do, day to day
and even over the course of millennia
are something to comprehend.
a lifetime of learning, asking, believing
that what we know as "everything"
isn't really that real;
beguiled by our senses and fellow man,
by ideas that have passed on,
in a vibration, or frequency, older than time
...it's enough to drive a man crazy
post comment

[22 Oct 2012|11:37pm]
there's no intellectualizing the end of the world
likewise, no fantasizing
it simply is, and will come
in the length of a breath
hold it inside
let it work it's magic on parts you forgot you had
beneath street lights, in mirrors
at the peak of a dream
let it own you, own it
then let it go
post comment

[04 Oct 2012|11:18am]
harvey dent
all scarred up
charred and gnarled skin
slash sparkling grin
brash, egocentric
now and then
malcontent
masked, unmasked
just half a man
plus half again
cracked
post comment

[20 Jul 2012|01:30am]
i still smell you when you aren't here
evoking thoughts of all those times that you are 
and i try my hardest not to get so wrapped up in
so smothered by your lotion and all around quality of perfect
but that's a lie
because i know that i need it as much as to
be rolled in warm blankets, which also carry your scent
jesus, i'm supposed to be some tough guy, right?
i mean, what are these shoulders for
if not breaking down doors and fleeing the scene of any promise?
none the less, here i am, in a room that smells like you in sweet perfume
pretending you'll be home in a few minutes


-=-


somedays i'm sixteen feet tall
and all of it kneecaps
ask me to bend and i'm already backwards
with a handful of flowers
or else, a mouth full of flowers
where nothing tastes sweeter than tulips

a giant, sometimes
and beneath my feet
ants on blades of grass and harmonic stones
where faeries build monuments with little hands
to gods long forgotten by most people

there, with flowers in their hair
and in my mouth
and in my stomach all that
sweet chest-warming nectar
honey bees, cans of red bull, and too much love
the stuff of magic


-=-


she's a constant reminder of why nothing has ever worked before
in all the ways that she smiles
each similar to the other, yet entirely different
i'm confronted by a thousand frowns past
and all the pretending to be concerned for the cause, or my fault
never caring, and now only caring
that i might be the cause of everything wonderful
for the prettiest girl i've ever come to know as my own
if ownership were ever a possibility
and where i know that it isn't i'm happy to share as much
as a smile, a late night hug, or a conversation
full of laughs over a delicious sushi dinner
and video games


-=-


i'm still learning to balance
what's fair, and whether or not the word even has any meaning
in real life

ask me in twenty years and i'll hope to have an answer
with smiling eyes
dotted by the finer things


-=-


i'm just a big ball of preconceived notions
hoping that i'm wrong, but
always assuming the worst, and
expecting nothing less than exactly what's imagined


-=-


floating somewhere on an ocean of everything i've ever wanted
still, there's a hole in the hull
though it's hardly the focal point
i think i welcome the feeling of flooding
of sinking instead of swimming
and breathing into my lungs the sum of all young-adult hope
rather than holding on to the last bit of reality
assumed and desperately
fighting with myself, as well as the surf
to remain apart from what i've been a part of
since setting sail


-=-


i can still taste you
even through the red bulls and coffee
eggs, chesse, and sausage
and the day old funk of stale smoke
post comment

always a little sad, aren't they? [20 Jul 2012|12:53am]
i don't know if i'll ever believe everything
although the reasons would be more of an essay than a list
concerning inter-relationship politics, past events, and trust issues
the general state of "being human"
and i'm not sure that either of us have that kind of time
but despite all of these hang-ups
less numerous than daunting
know that all that i'll ever want
is to make you happy
truly happy, and so much so that
everything you could ever need 
is right here

then maybe i won't be so upset
about previous sex or
how i stack up against those past boys
or any newcomers who may wander across our path
regardless of all of your honest reassurance
which i do apologize for...
the insecurities, i mean
post comment

[26 Mar 2012|11:06am]
there's this little monster, right?
burrowed somewhere between the feelings of jealousy and "i'm just not good enough"
burrowed deep in my chest, in my gut, and still digging
digging and smoking tobacco rolled, pointing fingers
leaving holes in my confidence, and tunnels through my spine
hollowing my spine till i can't stand to stand or
bear the weight of one more question
but just one more question, where the act of asking and answering
(not a game at all)
seems a self-prescribed painkiller
and the reality, in actuality, works an over-stressed day job
i'm a ghost hunter
with no EKG whatevers, it's not that type of gig...
i use a shovel to get straight to the grave, to the gut
through the dirt, leaving brown piles of what might as well be shit
in flower beds
in unkempt beds, slept in the night before

a little monster, digging
grinning beneath a grimace
beneath the surface, just a stupid boy
with too much on his back
1 comment|post comment

[15 Mar 2012|11:17am]
her eyes were copper coins made dull and darkened in the empty pockets of so many nobodies
as beautiful as anything ancient, aged, then wrapped in modern pattern and bow-tied
and he, with no body, seemed a list of dreams draped in ridiculous t-shirts, a little dirty

meeting in some frozen corner of the world, bare between yellow walls, with skin to match
they shared a smile and closeness like children might split a cookie or some sugared treat
evenly, catching crumbs in their laps, and nibbling bits in order to savor the sweetness

a taste longed for over many months, or what may as well have been many lifetimes
at the very least, in any case, an entire childhood spent pretending make-believe somebodies
never knowing that some body was only a matter of a few states away, awake, and waiting just the same
post comment

[05 Mar 2012|04:11pm]
it creeps back in some nights
unexpectedly, but with fair warning
and the whole world's painted black
nevermind that outside the ground and sky
share the same shade of white

in here it's just warm enough to
incubate some sense of self and
melt away all those troubled thoughts
that border on what's real

but some nights it creeps back
black
as if a window were left open and
midnight, floating on the wind,
just stopped by to say hi
1 comment|post comment

on insecurity (htht) [23 Feb 2012|08:03am]
there's this sickness on the inside
nurtured by perversion and
incubated on a table of socioeconomic status
some sense of warmth, albeit a lack of worth
the blues to make me feel good
to make you seem worse, still not the worst
on the coldest of these mornings

there's this sickness, bottled up
all knotted up in a stomach prone to nausea
and nagging in the back of an equally nappy head
i do my best to ignore it , for the best
talk myself down and hope that
one day it won't be you who play's the role of negotiator
pretty girl
post comment

[02 Feb 2012|10:23am]
i wake up early
shake the dew from a maroon afro pick
and let the rest seep
thanking god for each and every one of these
sixty eight degrees
but more-so for the chance to leave them
if you can believe it
for snowfall and something closer towards
freezing
post comment

[31 Jan 2012|02:15pm]
i'm just a sea of
everything that's ever been
all spinning in on my self
then expanding

and outside's more of the same
riding winds in different directions
losing pieces of ourselves in
haphazard splashes
and so happy to pick up a
drop here and there
post comment

[30 Jan 2012|12:25pm]
concerning magic, where everything is a miracle, and each of us an instrument of "god." creators, in our own right, twisting the fabric of reality to meet our needs. in the most obvious of ways: molding the globe into our own personal living space, and like children do, damning any consequence. placing no blame on adolescence, of course. mistakes almost always come first.
concerning magic, where the truth is two-fold. half being nature as it interacts with itself. cosmic to microscopic, the dance. the flow of water, wind patterns, celestial orbit. life, growth, death. anything and everything playing it's role in the grand cycle, the rebirth, as sure as spring follows winter. and secondly, our interaction with each other, which, although rooted in nature, inarguably, seems to be largely set apart. the cadence of conversation, the rise and fall of tone, the shifting of body language. the game of emotion played at the highest of stakes.
it's interesting, is all.  
post comment

[26 Jan 2012|01:52pm]
golden
where everything we know has been
molded in the heart of stars
she's stellar
still white hot and
yellow around the edges
i'm just some lucky fellar
like an astronaut but not
the type to orbit
more of a lunar lander
maybe just stand here and
bask in the glow of the sun
post comment

come pleat [29 Dec 2011|04:38pm]
everything i've wanted
nice and neat
in some soft leather, or brown paper
where all of my deepest wishes are
chicken-scratch scribbled

which doesn't matter much, 'cause
there's no need to read
post comment

[27 Dec 2011|04:50pm]
i slept in your bed this christmas
in an empty room that used to be
all video games and pot smoke,
then some kind of sleep-in library,
now it's pretty much
just empty
2 comments|post comment

[27 Dec 2011|04:38pm]
some days this body's worn out
and aches in places that used to be
brand new to me
or unexplored, at the very least
now the machine stutters
sputtering engine, rusty hinges
all clutter and ripped rubber
so i'm praying to be reborn like some holy man
give up this oil can. maybe,
trade in these hammers for hands, and
move somewhere warm
3 comments|post comment

[27 Oct 2011|07:12pm]
i cut off the tips of my thumbs
and call it survival
the bloody stumps leave just a bit on the tongue
i call that nostalgia
post comment

?: [27 Oct 2011|04:26am]
some days i'm crazier on the inside
which isn't to say: crazier than the outisde
just crazier than most days
post comment

navigation
[ viewing | most recent entries ]
[ go | earlier ]