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?

doldrums

it's been said that reality is the hardest thing to define. constantly changing and shifting shapes with the fleeting motivation. a trickster creating a thousand new worlds. if chased long enough truth will deliver the fatal bite to its hunter. we all need something to see by. it may glimmer like an incandescent bulb but the light it produces is only artificial. we all need something to live by. it may breathe like a man but the air he breathes is stale, he is copied, a clone, a representation. we all need something to swear by. it may sound like an eloquent ebb and flow but the flood that rushes out from behind these walls will bury cities under a serene, blue canopy of flowing currents. a shore without a sea is a wasteland and a sea without a shore is a tragedy. i remember when i put all my hope in finding a complete resolution to this anatomy. in every corner of this skeleton i have instead discovered unmentionable regret. the gap is widening and aimless purpose becomes sole direction. skin does little to conceal the cracks. with such a complete collection of cognitive capabilities all we could come up with are coffins full of prehistoric concepts. if there is beauty if attrition we may not have been so naive after all.

a fragile form

no matter what my unstable mind conceives:
my hands will always shake,
my bones continue to break.
my lips won't stop quivering and
my eyes can't stop wandering.
the walls of my heart are made from stone
ive been constructing my own personal babel
from the shattered pieces of eden.
words have all worn out their meaning
may the blood running down my arm be atonement enough.

joshua's modern petition

i've heard it said that the end will come like a thief in the night but i never thought i'd live to tell of it. it came like a swift wind and it was met with open arms. no cohesive resistance was formed by a disillusioned and pacified generation. left mesmerized by flashing images, we are slowly wasting away in our favorite recliners listening to someone tell us the ten steps to fix our broken marriage while our spouse asks to borrow a pen to sign the divorce papers. we are a society of sleepwalking children conditioned to reach for our security blanket at the first sign of conflict. the size of the battle does not matter because we have no war worth fighting. bullets left littering distant deserts are mere substance of myth, some vague recollection from something we were read as kids. we are not armed with guns and grenades at the front lines, instead we fight the evil at the check out lines equipped with coupons and tabloids. the blood spilled on normandy's sand slowly drifts out to sea where the sharks feast on the lost memories. this has evolved into an organism whose sole purpose is to perpetuate its own existence. all foundations are eroding under the weight of fear. marx may be buried under london's streets but the grave cannot keep him at bay. while we sleep the bible belt is altered beyond recognition. they slip in undetected and craftily rearrange the words, "the republic so loved the proletariat that it took complete control and whosoever believeth in it will not die but have everlasting life." we are tolerating ourselves into destruction. our hope lies in this universalized morality to see us through. if this is progress may the sun and the moon become as paralytics in the expanse.

a compressed life placed in a shrinking space

line up and wait patiently. time is irrelevant now. this is the march that transcends borders, an indiscriminate procession that only requires the breath in your lungs. some limp wounded, some stumble blind. some are brave and walk alone. some claim to see through the clouds and some jostle to lead the parade. some run fearlessly to the edge, some dig their heals into the soft soil. i am only a passenger on this spinning merry-go-round. for now i walk on its back but soon i will be under its skin. nothing will be left but the evidence that i was anything but invincible. the end result is all the same. the sky may fall but it will never rust.