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:: The Dead Pony ::
Diary Entry #41: Burning Souls | Memories Pull Shades Over Loneliness
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The Dead Pony

La Ciudad de la Reina de Los Angeles(The City of the Queen of Angels).
Can you feel me?  I'm in your house...
Serendipity?

I once met someone who had been on a public bombing on a subway. He thought he had been wounded by shrapnel "My abdomen was on fire, I kept looking for blood but none came out..." He told me his vision was
shaking, and he was deaf save for the constant ring of a shattered
eardrum. "I was disoriented, and I thought that maybe my wound had been cauterized" This was not the case. He was not harmed by shrapnel aside from a small laceration above the knee. The intolerable pain in the stomach was caused by the energy of the explosion. In a confined area, the disrupted air causes a vacuum effect which shatters eardrums
and turns the stomach inside out. I asked him if it still hurts. "Only
when I dream." (Shadows kiss in the garden, and the nightingales weep at their touch) As he looked at me I wanted to throw him off the train. "It seems like death is the only way out right?" he asked as if he knew what I was thinking. "Do you want to die?" I said quietly. He laughed and looked at me with questioning pity. "You're so young son...I can feel your rage, that need to prove yourself. Have you killed anyone before?" I just stared at him coldly. (sometimes I dream
of sleeplessness, sometimes I feel like I'm alive) When I didn't respond he smiled and cocked his head to the side. "So that's how it
is then? Fine I won't push you for an answer. You're too young to
realize you are not indestructible." Now it was my turn to laugh. "So you think because you have survived an act of aggression you can give
me advice on life? You don't know me." (the teeth of madness jump, jump, dance, and sing) His smile widened. "you're too proud son. You can kill me if you want to, but I'm already dead. I died when it became painful to dream..." Sunset on the horizon. I imagine carving ugly words into my arms and spattering the dark blood onto white flowers. Howling as the city crumbles and hooks render flesh, exposing muscle, cracking bone, ripping nerves to be sewn in lace patterns on
dissected back, starving dogs tearing throats and fighting for the consumption of rotting corpses.

"This is my stop. It was nice meeting you son, take care of yourself..."

::03:04:08::

::: Memories Pull Shades Over Loneliness :::

Drunk off beer and cheap vodka. I desire, but am too furious with myself to accept touch. I could destroy everything with one fractured blink of my consciousness...Sounds are beginning to echo and my thoughts become dark and cool. My eyes are mercury. Beautiful, quick, and poisonous.

Vodka is a bad drink for me. I want to erupt and put my fist into the mirror. Smash my own image, watch the blood flow onto shattered images of my esteem. Why do I think such thoughts? It must be the unpredictable alcoholic stupor. Self loathing and an overwhelming burn of isolation, overpowering sense and reason.

I am soon blessed with nightmares after my body falls into uneasy slumber...
Rain, falling softly off my hair into the creek at night. Just a lonely boy, the liquid sky mixing with his tears as he tosses rose petals into the water. Watching them float downstream on some dark journey. Willow tree cradles him with rasping arms, lullaby of dead leaves and broken limbs.

I wake, screaming in thin membrane of sweat. Spidery dreams of fingers crawling through my hair. Hallways of skin held together by metal wire, infested with insects resembling blood oranges with eyes on stalks. They can’t hurt me anymore.

Now we are halfway between dreams and a conversation...

Written by: ~ The Dead Pony

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