Strain of Consciousness

-The thought dances in my head, reflecting silver streaks of moonlight. A giggle and a whisper, accompany the flash of memory. An entire world is constructed of the loose ends of intention. Semblance becomes reality as the strings of sanity, unlace. Eyes closed, there is nothing; when the light crawls in, I dream.

-A quarter century and he’s wasted it, the only experience he’ll have of it but something keeps him from actualizing it. He feels it some days. Days when he feels the waste slowing him down and all he could do is sit quietly and watch it all pass by, Life. His spinal chord falls into an odd curvature his frame slouched on the wooden chair behind the window. He looks through as the light splashes and traces shapes around him. He watches the shapes of bodies passing in front of him without noticing him. He could wait there, in that […]

Close my eyes, blink rapidly, quick succession of images behind my eyelids. Dreams. Streams of goals and wants. Everything I hoped to be. Grasp and take hold firmly… time…then a gasp, after holding on for so long, sore hands and blisters formed; eyes open to the corrugated hand, to find it empty. And I feel, like that. With one swift exhale, my breath is gone. Years pass and I haven’t changed. Feel stifled, stagnant, stilted. Still holding on to everything I’ve picked up, and carry with me. The pain, the sorrow, hurt and scars. You cannot see cause it’s all […]

–Disappear here. Disappear here.The words wail through my mind, echoing in the corners of consciousness. These words, the invocation that keeps the possibility of the magic door,latent but here. These words that fell from a billboard over Sunset, on a sun drenched afternoon. Cascading on a dried canvas in my mind; seldom used. Creating images of asian countries and liminal states of existence. The tiny peephole to the fantasies of escape. The frustrated wanderings of mind, seeking escapism; to disappear. Seeking that door, the peephole’s whole, the one through which one can walk, leaving behind the self that manifests here; […]

-It’s like the tides of the blue carpet, waves and ripples in different tones. Coral stones in blacks and greys, scattered, a crumbled reef peppered into the salted living room sea. Low tide Monday and I find myself dry, eyes red with a dizzy head. Lips cracked, I can taste blood, though I cannot swallow. I lie, staring at the white nicotine stained stucco sky, visible by the dim morning light. My motivation is dead; I would drown myself but the tide is low. I feel pale, maybe invisible and light with the possibilities of this world. I become aware […]

-I want to lose things: lose myself, lose everything. The little I possess. The car with the chronic transmission disorder, the thirty two inch TV I bought myself when I was twenty. The three rackets, two of them bent, the DVD player that hasn’t failed me, the many discs with movies, burned or store bought, the discs with music, the little box that buzzes and whirls as I try to fall asleep, the keyboard and mouse attached to it, the monitor that makes my eyes blur after hours of staring at the blank white word processing page. Lose the squeaky […]

-His eyes peer into me, trying to pry me open. “I’m taking on water,” he says, his eyes dry, irritated, red. They search me over, his eyes, trying to find an opening. They look into my eyes. I close them. I could feel those eyes, studying me, my receding hairline. Falling, to observe my shoes. The soles intact. Climbing along my inseam, the eyes. There’s a hole, almost unnoticeable in the denim, near my waist. He misses it. There’s a sigh. I open my eyes again. They study, slowly rising, my abdomen, then my chest, settle on the left part […]

-If words are written but never read, will they ever mean? Do they wait silently, etched electronic pulses, for someone to give them breath? Do they feel; solitude, abandonment, isolation? In the moments between sonambulance and oblivion, he’s wondered if words mean, if his words have ever meant. He recalls the words of others, some uttered, some read, each increasing the density of his heart, the whispered words of prayer lightening the weight of his soul, at times. Words of praise have sent him into a labyrinth of thought, further dissecting self and understanding; such words with gratitude have lifted […]