Will it always be this way?
Concern, it ends up this way after time.
Will it go away eventually?
Contentment, it remains this way and it feels wonderful.
I hope it stays this way forever.
Fear, it remains this way.
But God, I hope it goes away.
Anger, it remains to bubble over this way.
But help me, I hope this passes soon.
Uncertainty, it remains this new way, a way that's unfamiliar.
I hope this settles and dissipates now.
In the end....what will remain and what will go away?
Such a complicated thing and I don't think there's a simple way to answer it, no matter what experts say.
Back to square one....
- Current Mood: apathetic
Not sure what my dream sequences are trying to tell me but the anxiety is high. This morning, I woke up feeling severely out of it, tired, run down, eyes puffy.
Dream #1 this week - I can't remember it well but apparently I was whimpering when I had to be woken up. Not sure what this is about but it must have been an unsettling dream if it was that bad. Who knows? This one, I can't remember.
Dream #2 this week - mob style execution. And though I executed someone in this dream sequence, I don't know who he/she was. Still don't. I just know that there was blood everywhere, on my hands, and I didn't know that this is what I was heading into that house for, at that moment. I don't even know who it was that led me, and two other people there. Who did I kill? I couldn't say. Was it a person? Yes. Was it a metaphor? Yes, I think so. After all was said and done we left the house. There was not a soul in sight, no one opened their windows, which led me to believe we used silencers. What smart criminal/murderer would not? Either way, an alarm must have been tripped because I heard the sirens. I sat in that car with the two other people, a man and a woman, and I shook profusely after I realized what I'd done. It was unnatural. Was I going to go to jail? I'll never know because I was woken up yet again. What I do know is that I felt off for the rest of the day. Would I have gone to jail, would I have been discovered?
The great thing is I KNOW I am NOT going to hurt anyone in such a manner, never would I kill someone. However, what did this dream mean? I've yet to figure it out, simply happy with the fact that I DREAMED.
Dream #3 this week - repetitive words ina funhouse mirror room I could not escape. That doesn't seem as horrific as a mob style execution. But it was worse. Running around in a room that one can't escape with words written and flashing all over the mirrors was horrible. Failure. Last one. Laughs. Then phrases began flashing. You will be the last one. Why haven't they asked about you? Why does no one ask how you are? It was truly the worst dream this week. I woke up crying and I couldn't...DIDN'T want to go back to sleep. I ended up lying down for another hour or so before finally sleeping again for about 20 minutes. But my cat's picture was on the floor, she was acting strange. It was very unsettling. I wish I knew what it meant. I wish, more than anything, that I didn't have that dream.
I wish above all else...I knew what all of it meant.
- Current Mood: distressed
- Current Music:Sights -----> London Grammar
"What're you doing here, still? When the depths of your soul are pained and weary and tired, why do you dwell?"
I could only stare back with lips so numb they moved, wordless silence, but speaking a tongue all the same. I felt the feelings there, trapped and angry, frustrated and coiled tightly like a venomous snake. If I let the poison loose, would it kill all the landscapes, the settings, the falseness it constructed so elaborately I started to believe my own lies? What then, would it have become? More lies on top of the uncertainty?
I came to myself then, realizing that I am more than who I was, who they thought, who he knew. I'm not the one to overstay my welcome or wish for things anymore.
That girl, that insecure, sad, solemn girl is dead. She died some time ago.
If the monster in me is the monster, then how does she protect that little girl so?
When we're one in the same, tell me....what then do we become?
~what should be just a story
- by JAM
- Current Location:At home
Yet it wasn't; however, it retains itself there in the recesses of my mind.
Come hither, it whispers.
I cannot endure it and I refuse to allow it.
At times the endurance is something that even I do not understand but it's there, sitting, rocking back and forth on mischievious heels that deem the world it's playground. Do you remember that Norther frolic, that day where the sun shone slightly through the overcast clouds, bathing all that it touched in the golden rays full of warmth and promise?
"I'm always here," it whispered, touching skin like a caress that knew where to comfort and settle itself.
It burrowed there, safe, serene, wise in its choice. If there was one element that could be observed time and time again on this planet, it was the sun, dancing around the galaxy.
What a comforting notion, a bright piece of knowledge, she thought.
It was yet to become something more than that. But sometimes, in the moment is all that really matters.
~Written by: JAM
- Current Mood: anxious
- Current Music:Interlude (Live) ---> London Grammar
You seem to be getting away from me as of the late.
I find the waking dreams to be of little solace.
I find the evening to be that much better.
The winding road before me peaks, it sways and beckons.
I want, I need, I demand us to be together and free to roam the mountain tops before us.
Come hither, go hither, sway solemn, swim happily.
We go together, we frolick together --
The Northern Lights await.
W/B: JAM, copyright of JAM
Her psyche was breaking. His grew steadily while hers fell petulantly to the bottom of an acid soaked barrel that held nothing but the promise of relief, as she saw it. She bent her arm at a lazy angle, eyes pensive but tired and dull from desires lost; and acceptance found. She cringed when his black gloved fingers tapped the table-top once, twice, three times.
"Lovely, this game you've chosen only speaks to the mindset you've fallen to over time. Tell me...is this your heart's true desire?"
She cocked her head to the side in an inquisitive manner but he could see for all her actions, her cinnamon eyes showed nothing but solidarity. "Desire, my good sir, is something with which I am no longer familiar. To desire something is to possess such an emotion. I have none to offer."
He sighed. She really was a most magnificent creature, one he wanted to keep for as long as possible. However, he had not counted on her inner demons being as powerful as he now witnessed. A facade was only as good as the person who maintained it; hers had now cracked. Dubiously, he nodded at her reply but did not feel like giving in just yet. Squaring his shoulders beneath his heavy vestments, his thoughtful but determined gaze hidden by the starkly white mask atop his face, he sighed.
"What could bring your lovely countenance of desire back to such a beautiful visage?" He asked gently.
She shrugged, face turning away from him. "I am broken, fine sir. I can parade around with the perfect mask, one not made of porcelain like yours - no one but you would know the difference."
With a heavy sigh she turned towards the window that bragged a spectacular view complete with a cliche sunset and fluffy white clouds. Her mind was far from them though as she gazed out the window. Her heart felt light and airy but at the same time it felt heavy and lost. The concern that floated over her, that embraced her nd wrapped her up was something she didn't know that she'd ever be rid of; not until certain things had come to pass. Thoughts of happiness were powerful but at times they were fleeting - it was something she strived for with a veangeance he had never witnessed. Yet her eyes remained solemn, realistic. To her, she wouldn't call it hopelessness though she would call it absolute frustration that the current situation caused her so much distress. Her biggest issue with all of it was fear, a horrible, daunting, sickening fear that gripped her and slithered through her like ice, like a poison she couldn't get rid of no matter how hard she tried. In past times she sought all measures and means of moving past it, any way to alleviate the pain and sadness; any method to continue. But how hard it was to do so with the constant upheaval. There were those that said it was that easy to leave, to move on, to just walk away - things that were easier said than done. Things that were easy to say because saying things wasn't always what happened or because actions are harder while they speak louder than words. And she felt it to the core of being, the words, the whispers, the irritation in their eyes that swept through her with a glance and with cursory words.
Drumming her fingers on the table top, she brought her eyes back to meet his through the mask that she could not see. She wished, for but a moment, that she could see them, read them. She wanted to know his thoughts, his view, see the feelings of what may lie there. Yet the mask remained and she crumbled a bit in the process. It wasn't as though anything would change in those moments but the sinking feeling that settled over her left a disastrous train of thought in its wake. The shining silver, metallic surface of the colt python seemed inevitable and she could do nothing more that stare at it in wonder and acceptance. This is what she wanted, wasn't it? These are the types of things that leave someone at peace, were they not?
"That is nothing more than an easy way out of something that you fear," he supplied thoughtfully. She looked at him then, lips open a fraction with no sound coming out. He cocked his head to the side. "You've been my muse, as of the late - is it not my duty to ensure your well-being, in some form or other?"
She chuckled bitterly at this. "If a muse is what I am, being alone seem far more a desirable fate. It was something I was well accustomed to, and something, I fear and dislike but can easily re-assimilate to."
He sighed this time, responding to her question. "Is that really what you want, though, lovely? To be all alone again, without the things you need, the happiness you've wanted and fought for, the happiness and life you deserve?"
Her voice caught in her throat. Who was this man who came from the shadows and knew her deepest desires, her deepest wants and needs? Who was this masked idea that invaded her thoughts, her dreams, her head and her heart? She didn't know his name, where he was from, what he wanted from her at all - but he was here, seated across from her. He was very real, very present, and very attentive.
"Are you an angel of some sort? Perhaps an Angel of Death?"
He nodded though the telltale smirk couldn't belie what he truly thought. "I can be whatever you want me to be, love. I represent all that your heart desires. So, lovely, what is it that you will have me be?"
She woke with a start at the words echoing through her head, her heart beating so rapidly in her chest she wasn't sure she was dreaming. However, she knew she was because of the blatant fact that she was in bed and there was not a soul in sight. Not to mention she wasn't wearing the bright orange ball gown with sequins nor was she sporting the sunburst styled masquerade mask. With a heavy sigh, she flopped back down onto her plain, simple bed with its plain cotton sheets and ridiculous bedspread - a twin size blue comforter speckled with dinosaurs, which was a gift from her cousin. Strangely enough, she felt like she was in a sauna even though the thermostat stated it was at only 75 degrees in her bedroom. She let her eyes wander to the window at her right, the alarm clock's green digital numbers casting an eerie hue around the room's ugly white walls, a patch job that look like it could've been done by a kindergardener. With a sigh she fell back on her pillows feeling sweaty yet chilled by the cool air. The sauna like atmosphere didn't help as the alternating temperatures seemed to leave her in a constant state of distress. Was she hot or was she cold? Shaking her head she rolled over and grabbed the nearest pillow, hugging it in an attempt to calm her heartbeat. Any remote thoughts she had about the dream began to fade, albeit slowly, as she began drifting off to sleep once again.
All the colors behind her eyes began to swirl and blend together until they melded into a warm twist of autumn sienna and a soft chocolate brown that wrapped her up in a blanket of sweet, secure and comforting contentment. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she wondered, vaguely, if she would see the masked muse again. For in her mind, she was no longer sure he was just a muse. Somewhere under her fingertips, the cool metal had felt real, and the mask had seemed all too lifelike to be a mere idea but more of a man. As her mind slipped into the land of sweet Morpheus she felt a gentle slip of serenity slip over her, the shadow in the window ever watchful.
~W/B: JAM - COPYRIGHT/PROPERTY of JAM (sadistic_kunais)
Still a work in progress but it's been going places lately...my muse must be floating around somewhere nearby...yay!
- Current Mood: sleepy
- Current Music:Salty Seas - Devics
That is all.
Was it you, your reflection I saw, your energy I felt, your voice I heard, your thoughts I thought, your ardor I tasted on lips of soft sakura petals, dusted with the slightest ether of a timber?
In a lighted frame it dawned, the spectacle of a thousand pricks, one zephyr, a myriad of emotions rushing through the crevices of what was once my whole heart, my whole soul, my whole body,
It was your stigma that set free the darkness within, the shallow depths of nothingness that never knew the outside.
It was your face that matched the twin tendrils of this feeling, this deposition.
It was you.
Then, I eventuualy became, as all things do.
It was me who became.
W/B: JAM, 3-13-14 @ 2:53 PM
- Current Mood: exanimate
- Current Music:Interlude ----> London Grammar
My thoughts are made of satan's womb and the innards and lining of putrid wasteful demons.
The touch of a mutated expression of facial recognition is the sole source of feeling.
Sinking teeth into a fruitful carcass of rancor, of flesh simmering in the rust laden bloody sauced ill of ire.
Hearing the dull throbbing ache of a heart palpitation lodged deep into the recess of abyssal sands.
An aroma of simpering soufflé that boasts all scents of life, essence of burning and stitched skin.