2018: A Space Oddity, II

I was completely stunned.

“Who am I?” I thought. “More like, what the hell are you?”

I didn’t speak those words aloud but the inky figure responded to me anyway. It’s voice so hideous & gangrenous, it’d knock a horsefly out of the air.

“Come on now. Don’t act like you don’t recognize me,” It said. “I am the culmination of the thoughts that swim around in your head at the dead of night. The thoughts you try to pretend didn’t occur but totally did. Your repressed urges. Your deep down ugly that you refuse to claim.”

I turned off the faucet that was still running and put the toothbrush down. I didn’t have time for this shit. Not that I had any pressing obligations like work, school, or anything of that sort that our society views as productive.
But like…what the hell, right?

Don’t speak, just listen,” It croaked. ” You have a choice to make. Follow me right now or stay here and die.

“What?” I managed to squeak out.

The reflection of the bathroom in the mirror faded away. A kaleidoscope of colors I had never seen before replaced the familiar taupe walls and off-white cabinets. Wormhole is the only word that comes close to what I was seeing.

I looked away from the mirror and took in my surroundings. It was the same old bathroom.

Looking away isn’t going to make me go away,” It said. “And I said don’t speak. There’s no need.”

I looked back to what was once a mirror. The creature had it’s back to me, and was walking away, towards the flashing vibrant vortex. Without looking back, It said

Are you coming or not?

I raised a hand and placed it towards the mirror and was instantly sucked inside. I turned around and I could see the bathroom I was once standing in, as if I were watching the most boring show to ever air on a home improvement network channel.

Hurry up!” the creature shouted.

I turned back around to face It. Amongst the all of the colors, it’s inky outline stood next to what appeared to be a door.

Advertisements

insomnia.werks

I created a celestial rock EP/mixtape.

I first got the idea months ago. Insomnia runs in my family & i was blessed enough to get it as well.

I spend many, many nights wide awake. With far more energy than is entirely necessary for a time when the rest of the world is asleep. Instead of wasting time until I was tired enough to eventually fall asleep, I decided to do something constructive with that time.

Introducing insomnia.werks.

Every single sound you hear on these songs were performed & produced by Me.

I hope you enjoy.

1. VY

2. Narcissis

3. Josephine: The Blue Allen

4. Purrty

5. Saturn Salutation

A Disturbance In The Force

The last drop of The Witch’s Brew passes between the lips

it takes control of the hips & makes the body dip on an unworthy stick

if only there was a way to forget

Wait a minute. Something’s wrong.

I’ve already taken the last sip.

The cauldron is empty.

now what?

I’ve got a bad, bad feeling…that this has happened before.

I put the key in the door but it was already unlocked from the disturbance from the time b4.

Therefore

I go to The Witch to get another batch.

She groans in a gravely hum

“Surely you haven’t finished the last order already? What could you possibly need it for? You’ve only just hatched.”

I walked away without a reply. No sense in applying a layer of logic on top of the illogical. It’s like spraying a bottle of pungent perfume over body odor.

It’d only highlight what was meant to be erased.

what now?

Posting a blog post, I suppose.

well. I may as well go back over yonder.

bc I know if the only thing The Witch will loan me right now is an itch

I know good & well

someone else (or something)

will give me what I need.

2018: A Space Oddity, I

I. Hello

It had been quite a minute since I had hatched from my incubation period & there’d only been a few moments here and there for me to stretch my wings. Stormy weather and the danger of the whatcouldbe’s, ya know?

So imagine my surprise, when on a morning just like any other. I shook myself out of unconsciousness, threw on some rags, rubbed some Chemical X & other herbs on my body to get myself clean. A typical morning…

It was the moment the toothbrush touched my crown.

A tremor. A thunderous fervor of billions & billions of cells freaking out and reconfiguring.

Flecks of the steely expression of my reflection started morphing, bit by bit, as if the reflection itself was in the hands of a child whom had just discovered the blur tool on Photoshop.

I was completely stunned. Toothbrush still in hand, mid motion, right between the two buck teeth. My reflection didn’t look like me anymore.

What was once the shapely image of something adorable, stood a willowy silhouette of what could have been. A deformed freakazoid of a monstrosity. An inky black figment, sloshing about in a twisted vortex, occupying the space where the reflection of my actual self should have been.

I couldn’t hear anything. It was as if my ears ceased to be functioning organs and became strictly ornamental. There was a horrible void where the sound of running water should have been.

And then a horrible noise. The sound of rusted metal grating against a serrated blade.

Covering my ears with my hands wasn’t enough. I could still hear the sound. And if I focused enough…I could almost make out…

“Who Are You?”

A Reading: Declaration of The Hill Dwellers

source post: Declaration Of The Hill Dwellers

You dare look me in the eye & say
the aged intensity of punk rock doesn’t smolder in my soul
That I don’t carry the torch of my fallen punk ancestors
Laid to rest by the 9 to 5
Spikes combed forward, ‘hawks brushed to the far left
lookin’ no good, no bueño
flown off to nowhere special.
Memories fade. Scribblings remain.

How Dare
You spit in my eye
as I walk down the aisle to claim the prize
The most damned prize so rightfully mine
of everlasting life & peace of mind
No price is right when the price hanging over my head, es
no good no bueño
Measured in wealth with no real value,
Chop it up thrice & serve it chilled sided with grilled
chopped heads of men & mice

How Dare
You poke me in the eye with sharp edges
from a bill you figured your generation would
have paid in full by now
Shoot daggers in my back, my shoulders buckle
under the weight of the price on my head
But behold this truth!
That the price is not mine! The price is not right!
It’s No Good, No Bueño!

That’s why I
Dare to fly northward &
onward & on & on
Gone that way, pulling the reverse switch
past 1992, past time
past the time of the No Good
Of whatever remains past the No Bueño
past the punk
rocking out with no one special

Memories fade. Scribblings remain.