As i go around the zombies – too messed up from her potions to think. Theyre pulling ideas out in a frozen mind, unaware im walking past, no thought train to conduct. Theyre not aware, of what they should do. As i move towards the housing complex, i see the witch staring at me, her dead gaze, cutting through.
As i remember the good times, seperating the potions that i conjured. I remember, thinking to myself, she looks so beautiful… i think too myself, while walking up the stairs. Is something wrong? Is she really trapped within, which is which – im starting to lose my memory of everything we did, talked about…
reality feels like its slipping. The area, seems fogged, hard to walk forwards, light shines from within the eyes, stars are present. The thinking slower…
The stairs are of metal, chilly, in these shoes… ice hanging from the small apartment-like unit windows. Frost consuming the floors. I walk upwards, during this large staircase… slippery to the feet. As i try to keep gripping and move up, i can hear the laughing from above, growing with strength.
I finally get to the top, shes standing infront. the 80’s wall paper – looks terrible… to the front as i look, she begins to project an image, of 4… they create a vortex, using her chilly breath – i cant tell which is which….
I stand among the other beasts, i call to the others, let’s move. let’s progress upwards onto this hill, we need to find a deer, a possum, anything to feed our stomachs, to provide us with strength and power… The other animals were less excited, lazier than the deer… we eventually entered the same page… We began to chase down a deer, and the deer progressed out of the premise, our quick steps were no match, we accelerated faster… But the deer was PASSIONATE about his surroundings, he understood the area much more… The next day we saw the deer. And we set our trap, we circled the deer and began to munch on his body, ripping flesh, destroying his caucus. And we learned from then on that sometimes talent beats passion.
there were sheep, wolves, pigs, and velvet ropes. The instructor, was often smiling with a large and antagonizing smile. He reeked of gin and an odour, that triggered the nostrils to cease to breath, he smelt of success, and achievement. His ego was large. His muscles tiny. he began to stumble – over the time of the games… He teased each category. made them maneuver to a beat of his own violin, his red and well strung piece of musical sadness. His tone was aggressive and be-lilting, his hands were tightening as the animals were slow at progressing through the maze. He began to get angry… annoyed at humanity.… He wanted more, he wanted better… he wanted perfection… As the days progressed the being’s would lose their individuality, their dignity, their balls. And each day, this pig, this ruler, would strengthen his games, intensify their work… All while he sat above and grinned with pleasure, his alcoholic lips, lick his lips
he believes in conformity, and relentlessly begins to achieve it – Throughout our society… this man is strong, and ever-so powerful, and he won’t stop… he cannot stop… this world is his for the taking. And each category of animal is for his eating, he chows souls for breakfast, hearts for lunch, and tears for dinner. He sings an awfully dark tune in the morning, that frightens each animal, he sings it without heart and only knows the horrid words, he only understands ruthlessness and betrayal… He pawns each animal, he maneuvers them to stay dedicated, and keep up the rhythm. he yells loudly when they step out-of-line… and he strengthens their mind with his destructive words. And these words grip the soul and bring it down to his level, he dines with the devil, he goes to the games with hitlers, and sparks up a cigarette with Stollen. Drinks his liquid with the Masons.
A hallow log that has been forgotten, the grass grows around and it slowly disappears beneath, It slowly forgets what it’s like to held, admired for it’s internal beauty of rings, it’s age is meaningless, because it’s rottening away becoming a memory in ones mind, the picture within slowly crumpling, getting filthy and it’ll become a historic piece that was never remembered – because i feel meaningless. Around the log, grows flowers… alike the flower, the woman i once knew, grew as one, strong and vibrant, magical. Living like a dream within ones mind, her picture stays strong, and well thought about… the soil combined their relationship, but it was not enough, and one day the flower detached from it’s circular platform, and took flight in the wind.
I take a sip of beer, realizing that my demise is soon. the shadowness of alcoholism, is creeping up, and gravitating with his fingery hold… finger by finger, attaching itself to my being… it’s grip is cold and scaly… it’s shadowy feeling… is creating an uneasy feeling, a cold and unforgiving one…. slowly by slowly my liver is giving out, it’s hurting more and more, as the days progress i feel the evil man tightening his grip. His hold is strong, and his nails are sharp… He’s beginning to hurt my arm, i tell him no! but he has an evil smile on his face, on that screams, victim… as i sip my beverage i sink into a horrid depression, and i look on the calendar… but i don’t see much days, let alone weeks… i scream out to God, but we’ve grown distant…
My heart has broken apart, forever floating within the seas of my tears. It was once captured… Not now… it becomes free and the power is dispersing. It continues lifeless. and forgotten… It forever holds what love was. and what it could have been. encased in a bullet proof jar… the jar is filled with barbed wire… Lifeless like a plant without shine, or a rodent that has been killed… it floats forever within the jar, searching for anew relationship, love, friendship… I’m alone, and dying inside… But this isn’t new, this isn’t strange… it’s my life. The life she once gave, is a dream.