Writing Exersise 3

I can feel the worn tapestry of something that is the color of dreams, but with the touch of memory, intertwined in the grey of the mundane. It inspires "What am I?" drifting from my book of questions I shouldn't have. 
I can sense it in the profound turn of the seasons. And the rhythm of the earth suddenly quiets and the silent melody of some place far away, wishes, just as I seem to.   
I am left without breath: that worlds abandoned kin and this ones alien.

Sweetheart

Bubble gum lollipop
 Sweetheart galore.
My Wrath is eternal
My name is Amour.

Hate-sweet medicene
Build my rapport.
I'll tell you your secrets
So our love will endure. 

Writing Exercise 2

    I ask myself where brilliance comes from. Is it swallowed up in the belly of the sky and sinks, gelatinous, until one of us contract its disease? Or is it embraced in the arms of a feathered prince who lays it upon the eyes of a napping simpleton and when they wake they can see the clouds of reason and imagination twitch and mangle together.
     No one ever asked where I was when I was truly vagabond and why should they. I was alone before I left the world and I was in pieces when I returned. Was that last year or the day before? The truth is that I keep track. A special tally like a score until I no longer have the burden of proof that I am in fact not a beast turned human. I don’t know if it is working. Europe chilled me to the bone. My world is so: when I mean to escape I walk into the arms of what I saw when I left the world in 2011. So now there are more things I can’t speak of and there I was in realization that I really wanted to think that I had morphed into a feasible existence. It was a lie as large as the ocean but suffered because it was not as deep. Reality makes my soul bleed for the stable man I will have to pour myself out to some day. Some day when the air washes me away into a dream like state that is so profound it can only be real, but that is only a day dream.
    Progress is wearing gears; they have to be so well maintained that I feel winter degenerating me more quickly than usual. I can only plan to sink back with satisfaction into the madness that makes me more of a specimen than you. It’s time for more. It is time that I create more steps because the slices in my soul seem so stitchable sometimes it gives me chills. More and moving. Move forward.

Writing Exercise 1

    Articulation is the salvation of the ostracized.
    The beginnings of light over the dawn cuts the preceding night like a wicked blade, vanquishing the cold from it’s unparalleled reign in shadow. If I were to stand there, empty from sleep, the light will cast itself into neat shapes for a moment etching the confinements of my being.
    I’ll twist below the sheets. Pain and discomfort winding it’s way up my spine and my blood will be tired from spectacle. All from the day before.
    I can see the lines everywhere, as uninvited and intoxicating as noise and music. I can shatter the obscure storm with uneasy pulses of 21st century fun. I can be sick from work, undone by chemicals, and I will find the truth through fashion, but I am here to tell you how much I wish I didn’t have to lie.
    Here are the fireworks of ink and blasphemy so I can face the kind of animal I am. Books and lights, dreams and things this is what it means to be lost, but so high that I can’t see the sky when I know the dawn is coming. I know that my innocence will not last. So let me tell you, ghost of the world, boldness may take me when the shadow leaves and I may arrive.

And Then They Said

"Stay away from the green-eyed girl with the Lana Del Rey mind; she looks like a loser but she's really an alien."

"Sanctity is just a word; the buzzards can eat you any time they want." That is what she was taught.

"Come and jeer at my existential alienation! No one will ever deserve this!" She typed this in a hurry so she could get up the next day.

"He wants a nice girl that he has a lot in common with. They will stay and talk night and day, they'll accidentally kiss and then they'll have a baby. What I'm saying is: there is no place for your shuffled wild cards in anybody's life. " 

Chocolate Martini

    I sat down with my black dress draped across my leg and surveyed the collection of people on the cafe patio. The waiter approached me and I turned to him and kindly ordered a chocolate martini. I had been there long enough for my presence to have a draw by now. I now kept my eyes aware, yet less conspicuous, batting my lashes as a stranger might have tried to make eye contact with me. My martini was placed by my side and I brought it carefully to my lips still keeping the landscape in view. After my drink I set it down. My shimmering rose red lipstick had tattooed the glass and I placed my finger lightly on it’s edge. That is when he decided to apprehend me.
    “ A women indulging herself is a rare moment to see; unless of course it is her routine, in which case, I am simply admiring a bad habit.”
    I did not look at him without first collecting my indignation, but I knew he was leaning forward in a dormant expectation. I raised my eyes and he leaned back satisfied.
    “Chocolate is a misgiving?” I asked impatiently.
    “And the calories.”
    “I can take both for granted.”
I smiled slyly and sipped my drink.

It's hard to forget what it's like to be forgotten.

From "Pure Black"

The Void stretched from the pinnacle of existence into the heart of a mystery. It was as black as the quiet of a soul. The universe's body lay apart from it’s obtrusive nothingness. 

Nothing. It was the well that uninspired the heart and fell honesty; the land where the spirit goes to die and its fire, it extinguishes.

Those that have seen it let their philosophies bow in it’s apathy. How can such a monster be in the place of existence? It was measured and tested; it’s notations gathered and held. The mind of humanity reeled as it searched for a flicker of reason from the gods in the cavern of an anomaly. 
It’s presence became even more unmistakable as the exploration became more complete; then it was not a question of “if” it is, but of “what” it is. A black hole was considered for they are the guardians of the existence of darkness. It’s placement in the middle of a black chasm of space would make perfect sense and account for its superficial idiosyncrasies, yet further calculations proceeding suggested that the matter that hosted visibility was not moving toward it as it would toward the esteemed vacuum of the universe.
    Many years ago it was discovered and only was one of the many curiosities encased in the universe. When a small child admires porcelain figures behind a glass cabinet door, the intercity and glowing simplicities is a fascination that can only be known by being truly innocent and having your imagination be your only guide to discovery.
    Thus was outer space. Its blackness acted like the sea once did; “The last frontier”, and so when The Void was met, physically, by a ship, designed for years by men and women who dreamt of the metal and components that they devised to touch some truth of the universe, the questions turned to horror as this place...this thing, this monster, was no longer the piece behind the door, behind the telescope and their machines of observation, but a shard of the universe as real as themselves.
    This monster had no truth. Without truth, honesty was no longer its devise and consequence was no longer the product of its betrayal. This made the astronauts and, incidentally, the scientists, brave. Automated drones where dispatched to coordinates, and each time nothing was found it=s controllers became more bold. The drones were sent further and deeper into the body of The Void. Little was found until a drone returned that was sent deep into the border of The Void. This drone returned aboard the flight deck of the ship that had fixed itself in the orbit of an asteroid encircling the void.     Strands of information dripped from the data cells and several more that where found in the black showed these threads of data. Energy and quantum movement was slowly creeping through The Void. The drones were merely an extension with sensory modules that were too crude to be the sight of the researchers.
    The growing body of questions began to rise. A team tried to decipher the purpose of what was brought back; while, others tried to identify its location. The only real pattern was the mounting cold toward the center which had initially deepened The Void in its infamy. Apart from its utter lack of visible light, this was a characteristic that had condemned it to its own realm. The rest of space had a temperature that was on average several levels above absolute zero (a theoretical beast of its own right), but The Void; the intensity of its chill, became even more deadening as the satellite sensors and drones approached its heart.
    There was no reason to think that The Void was exempt from the consequences of absolute zero and yet the pattern was unceasing.
    At the same time, in the same locations those drones (the few that were able to be retrieved) showed even greater fluctuations in quantum energy. The strains of energy that were drawn from the scientist’s vessel were detached fragments of some greater body. An unseen presence that perhaps was the reason of being and even the soul of The Void. It was then that it was decided that a group of eight were sent out into the body of The Void. The mission to make human contact with the cosmic presence that the drones had met.