smokey the bear married an arsonist

as i look out upon burning hills i can't help but wonder how it all came to this. a world once full of color and life now melts beneath a skyline of smoke and embers. i hear trees split and the ground crackle beneath the weight of my decisions. yet as the flames lick at the barren branches of the tallest trees i feel no remorse. i know this march of destruction was set into motion by my own hands but for some reason regret is further than the safety i seek. there's no room for an emotion as raw and visceral as that in a heart like this. windows begin to shatter as the heat begins to engulf my fortress of seclusion. as i shield my face from the cascading shards i catch a glance of that box. a little wooden visitor sitting silently in the corner of this room. my thoughts quickly shift to my eerie counterpart. how long has it been sitting there? how long have i allowed it to occupy that small space in this shelter? i don't dare move to open the box because i know full well what waits inside. even pandora would shutter if its contents were revealed. years upon years of savage emotions dwell within the walls of the box. every feeling of insufficiency, fear, and guilt were sent to live in the vast wilderness of my box. every emotion i could not digest and control has been placed beneath the lid of my solemn spectator. every true emotion moderated and fettered. call it a delusion. call it a novocain life. but at least i didn't have to stain my porcelain skin. at least i didn't have to look upon the true reflection of who i am. the more i think about what's buried in that wooden grave the more i realize that i not only filtered emotion but i actually filtered life itself. and worst of all, i condemned the one thing that could save me from my burning trap. within the confines of that box, i banished love to wander the desolate terrain with no place to take root; no place to grow and spread hope. in my attempt to control every moment i have abandoned your truth. i lost sight of the perfect picture you painted in blood. this time i will not try to escape. tonight i will let the box be consumed by the fire i set. in a bright and glorious blaze love will be set free. as dawn breaks i know that your mercy has carried me through the night. even as the shadows of my inferno darkened everything around you were not changed. may this scorched ground be a reminder of how far you will go to make it right. may the ash be a monument of all i built to keep you out. may these scars always prove that i cannot find my way without you.

my reel life

this journey begins like all the others. a trip outside these borders takes all that is within me to get out. who knew such fragile bones and porous skin could be so restrictive? slip past a ribcage prison and out through shuttered eyelids to reveal a life of flickering projections. when observed from afar i can discern the stale and predictable plot. this scene is all to redundant. i am the protagonist with no direction, no motivation. the dramatic irony is all but lost on this audience of one. driven by every false impersonation. do i have to kill all my heroes to set me free? unravel every legend to break their authority over my will. each and every endeavor ends in emptiness echoing a foreshadowing that i can hardly stomach. when will i learn that it's not the rain i love but rather wet concrete? i sink back into myself, dejected and despondent. even if resurrected, this impostor would be irrelevant. i'm the gunslinger of the modern era. the lonely desperado caged by glass and steel. an object in motion will remain in motion unless acted upon by another object. i need you to enter this system and put an end to my motion.

a hive in fall; a fallen hive

drifting weightless in the sun kissed air just like every other morning. just like every day before the sun rose with a new promise of unending abundance, confirming the creeds we nurture in our hearts. today we rule. today we thrive. yet somehow i can tell that this day is not like the others. the air is thin and a chill enters my body. the familiar melodies praising the empire do not emanate from the trees. the constant motion of the world at our feet has been put to rest and in its place arrives an eerie stillness. i look to find solace in the faces of others but i only find a renewed sense of tension. the pride we all used to wear so boldly has seemed to vanish over night. but how can this be? this kingdom we built with our hands stood unchallenged as the sole proprietor of glory. a community filled with vast riches. walls lined with gold, sweet splendor dripping from the ceilings and covering all the heirs of greatness with triumph. lionized and demonized by all the outsiders. but today our close-knit hoard seems more like a society of strangers with no ties to bond one to the other. even my closest companions seem to be chocking down an unbearable secret that cuts like glass in their throats. but what can it be? is this an unstable paranoia? is this just the suspicion that dwells deep within? undisturbed yet waiting to manifest itself at the right moment. no, i can see it in their eyes. they knew this would happen all along. as our once solid fortress begins to separate and flake lifelessly to the ground below i come to the realization that this was always our fate. flawless beauty fades and all around ruin is within sight. anger swells inside. this can't be the end. this can't be how our eternal summer falters. we cannot be robbed of all our prominence, left to humiliation and defeat. all around me friends, neighbors, acquaintances drop to the ground. they fall in one motion, some struggle to regain awareness but most just sink without a fight. i will not allow this to be our final chapter. if we are going out we are leaving in a flash. with my teeth set to the edge i find the kerosene. i'm setting it ablaze. in glory we were born. in glory we lived. and in a blaze of burning glory we will forever be remembered.

i love all zombies, except the one inside me

this concealing thicket offers the secrecy i've longed for. the deeper i travel into the dense maze of trees, the more isolated i become. and while isolation may not be the best survival strategy, i have learned to adapt. i build a wall of urgency in mind to avoid the thoughts that come with solitude. i'm constantly checking over my shoulder, keeping my ears tuned in for anything that might force me into a confrontation with the trail i plunged into the forest to escape in the first place. my stubborn resolve and fixated focus are almost enough, but not quite. everywhere i look i see them, signs that point me back to the path you walk, the one i forsook when i took to the trees. trails of blood left behind by those that were dragged away from the forest. and then the pools of the same blood where they gave up hope and waited for you to take what was left. broken branches where someone miscalculated their retreat. torn garments strewn about, signaling ultimate defeat. all these point back to you and all lead in the direction of your path. some wander lost between the trees with no knowledge of you or the path. all they know is this dark realm and the web of branches and thorns that hems them in. all they know is day to day subsistence. i am perplexed by their ignorance when i see the abundance of proof that you exist outside of this wilderness. but unlike them i have seen and walked your path, i've even heard your voice. and from them all i run. i am the lowest of all these desperate creatures for i know your path but chose not to keep it. instead i scavenge through the overgrowth frantically feasting on anything that can keep this unsustainable cycle alive. i have never fully lost my way back but i fear that if i do not turn back soon i will forget. i will forget that it is this decay at my very core that forces me to find your path. i will forget that it is this sorrow inside of me that seeks out your soothing song. i will forget that this hopelessness is my compass. i will forget that all this desolation has a purpose. how long will i toil in these shadows entertaining ghosts? will i seek the timberline or will i weave my life around these roots and anchor in?

valley forge

unaware and unconcerned, the tide carried me further and further, out here to the open ocean. i scan the horizon for any signs of familiarity, anything solid to keep me afloat, but i find none. this is the point at which i must adapt and press on or falter and divide. but i have never been much of a conqueror and these frontiers always have a way of extinguishing my ambition. my chest feels heavy as cold water enters my lungs, my breathing feels labored as i recognize the endless void that lies ahead. my separate fears begin to colonize and construct a settlement of utter paranoia in my brain. hopelessly i lift my eyes one last time. the image of the grey, overbearing sky burns itself into my mind. i close my eyes and in a moment i am submerged, slowly i descend. weightless and emotionless i sink. no panic and no fight left inside, i drift with the waves. somewhere between surrender and sleep something brushes past my legs. frantically i open my eyes only to see the light from above dancing faintly on its watery stage. the dancing slows to a flickering and the light fades away, taking with it everything tangible. all my striving and dedication reduced to nothing, a piece of driftwood picked up and tossed against the raging waves. this is loss. as my eyes turn down i search for any gleam to guide my departure. my thoughts return to the brush past my legs as i realize that i am not alone. i am surrounded by creatures too hideous for life on the surface. eyes like balloons, teeth set like so many rows of jagged knives, skin shimmering like glass. this is the point at which i adapt, but not to press on, simply to survive in this new environment. failure makes a suitable teacher at these depths and i am an eager student. this is where my adaptation skills flourish, miles below, in secrecy, out of sight. look through my transparent skin and gaze upon my crooked spine. i am one of them, a wanderer roaming this dark expanse searching for the light, a vagrant drifting in these icy currents clinging to any warmth i can find. this is where i belong. buried with the misunderstood. left to scurry across the ocean floor, the only place i can call home, thriving in isolation.

entropy

i stare endlessly at black and white pages, flipping to the next only to give the illusion of a fully functioning mind. there was once color. i'm putting up a smoke screen of stability, some fleeting sense of sanity to help remain afloat. there was once life. truth be told all industry came to a sudden and violent halt long ago. i can't remember the exact time frame because it's been so long since i've examined my resolve and even when i did i looked upon it as a reflection of one's own image in a mirror. close to the truth but never exactly perfect, always slightly distorted or exaggerated. there was once reality. i remember looking up into the clear summer sky waiting for a star to wish on. but the summer breeze is full of carelessness and haste. leaves began to fall as the trees lit into an auburn blaze and i continued to look to the stars, but this time with an urgency. waiting and watching hopelessly as every twinkling star turned into the blinking lights on the wings of airplanes, grounding my dreams on desolate and run down landing strips. the autumn air turned bitter and began to bite at my skin. concealed in cascades of white i stood motionless. yet my eyes remained fixed on a grey and dismal sky. snowflakes drifted about and landed softly, melting on my eyelashes. pretty soon i forgot why i was even looking up in the first place, yet my gaze is unrelenting. there was once purpose. as the seas of white began their retreat a new current of air thawed the ground where i stood for so long. life has returned to everything around me yet my sight remains stubbornly steadfast in a meaningless daze. what happens when the neighborhood starts expanding into my mind? when rows upon rows of picket fences encroach like a rising tide. progress has an insatiable appetite and apathy burns with a holy zeal to finish its master's work. together they walk hand in hand treading on my very thoughts. along the way progress feasts upon my doubt and apathy fulfills manifest destiny as it conforms my will to that of its master. i know it's only a matter of time until this fragile structure collapses under all the pressure. and when it does it will shatter into billions of irremovable, colorless fragments. they will lie dormant within my head just as the dust from the trade centers remains a permanent passenger within the lungs of those that stood and watched them fall. i am resigned to my new frontier. a life of tin and ash under a toxic sky. there was once security. i have none to blame but myself.

the range of decay

i can still remember the look in your eyes the day i buried you. a sort of disappointment crept out from behind the wall of tears but there was no surprise. i didn't think i would have it in me to go through with it but the truth is i didn't feel a thing as i covered up the last remaining hole between you and my world. at first, filled with paranoia, i checked over my shoulder each and every moment to ensure that no one would notice you lying there. slowly, over time, i realized that nobody would ever find you and i even forgot the exact spot i had picked out for you myself. i can still remember the day i chose to end the rest of yours. burning hot with rage, your conviction became too much for me to bear. unfulfilled potential created mountains of expectation in my mind. shame curled up next to me and i haven't stopped loving her ever since. i can still remember scrubbing the dirt from beneath my nails. i dug until my hands became raw from the sharp edges of the course gravel. blood ran down my arms and tears ran down my face but you weren't there to tell me everything would be fine. or were you? i can still remember how we used to walk hand in hand. i can still remember clinging to every single word that fell from your beautiful lips, though few they may have been they sustained the life in these now brittle bones. i can still remember the desperation i felt when we were apart, a love both frantic and uninhibited. and then gradually, your voice became muffled and unrecognizable, a noise accompanied by static and scorn. but memory is a funny thing. i can remember every little detail but your last words to me. i can't even remember the last thing you ever uttered and the worst part is i know that it was the truth i need to see me out of this storm i am dwelling in. i'm up to my neck in my own deceit and the irony is the only one who can save me now is buried under miles of forgotten terrain. is it too late? can you still breathe under all those heavy stones of unbelief? can you even move under the weight of the constricting cords of indifference? or are your lungs full of the corrosive dirt of lust? i will dig until my fingers are cut to bone. but will that be enough? am i too late? i just need to hear your voice again before i am welcomed into my watery sepulcher. the deluge has begun, am i out of time?