You Always Win

No matter what I think or feel, you always have your way. I am forever your slave. I need a vacation, I need to get away. I have rotted to my bones, my body is breaking down. How much longer until it all ends?

Again Come the Flood

Again and again, the question is asked, "Don't my feelings matter?" Loved ones really have a way to hurt you. Better to have loved than to need have at all though. 

Sacrifice ME

Someone help. I just can't do it. I am so desperate. I have been contemplating some ideas. Is it worth it? If I died will there be peace? Will the love flow? I know I am being a baby, but i just can't take it anymore. I just want rest. I feel so heavy. I feel so crushed. I feel so broken. Right now I just want to cry, but I am at work. Please, please, please, just let me rest. I am spilling my guts screaming, crying, on my inside. If it will bring peace, just take me. How fragile is man? How easy it is to tip over the edge. Is it so easy to stumble towards the slaughter? The heart so desires peaces.

The Prayer for Peace... and a Heart Attack.

Father please give true peace amongst my loved ones. Everyday she sees her, her soul is pulled to hell, and I see the hate in her heart. God please give her peace and reconciliation. Her bitterness tears me to the heart. I cannot survive this pain. My heart is being ripped asunder. The bitterness poisons me. Lord please let there be love over flowing between the two. I can feel the heart attack coming... Father please give wisdom to the fool. For she is arrogant and she rebukes those who point out her flaws. Her tongue is like a hurricane that stirs the calm sea. She has never apologized and reconciled with even those who have drowned. Her intelligence makes others feel foolish and makes the meek give way to her waves. Lord please give us peace. I can feel the heart attack coming... Lord I am being torn. Please give me rest, I feel the heart attack coming.

Moonlight Sonata Apocalypse: (excerpt), Final English Paper

“After all these years and shit we’ve been through, how can you still believe God exists?” Camille asked in a condescending tone. “How can I not believe in God with what we’ve been through?” Kain retorted. “What do you believe in then?” he asked. “Just you, me, our guns, food and water,” she said. She then snatched a book from his backpack. “Let’s see what the good Lord says today…” she giggled. “Genesis 1:31, And God saw everything that he had made, and, behold, it was very good…” “You see this bullshit around us, Kain? Behold! We are in his glory!” she laughed. “Just stop, you wouldn’t understand the complexity of the faith.” Kain said in an offended tone. “Look even though the world is in shit, I see the works of God every day. The world is shambles because of the greed and injustice that ran rampant in it. Instead of helping each other and working to benefit our neighbors, we want to make a name for ourselves.” Kain lectured. “It was the greed of the elite few who darkened our skies with those hydrogen bombs. It’s their fault that those Bug Brains got out of control.” Camille then angrily retorted, “To be selfless means to be dead, Kain! We can’t help anyone with the shit we are in.” she continued, “We don’t have water and we don’t have any bandages!” Kain then snatched his Bible back and stuffed it in his pack. “Let’s just get down from this damn ruin.” he said brokenly. Slowly they made their way to a ladder, Kain started clambering down the ladder and the steel ladder groaned. “Let’s get off this rusty ladder and quickly,” said Kain, as he climbed down the ladder. Camille understood what he meant as soon as one of the steps of the ladder just crumbled away as she pressed her foot on it. “After many years of the acid rain, I guess it shouldn’t be a surprise the Empire State Building is crumbling,” she remarked. Kain held the grimy, rusty ladder firmly in place and waited for Camille to descend. As she descended, a loud roar of engines was heard. “It sounds like Harleys,” said worriedly Kain, “We really need to leave….Now!” Kain and Camille finally reached some solid floors and started taking inventory of all their equipment. Kain strung his bow, unhooked the strap for his knife, counted 13 arrows, and two full magazines of 7.62 x 39 for his AK and 18 rounds in the magazine well. Camille grabbed Kain’s Glock 20, unstrapped her rusty machete, counted 55 rounds of 10mm, and 13 cartridges of .308 and 9 rounds of 7.62 x 51 for her Remington 700. Kain looked at Camille, and with a thumb up, signaled he was ready. Camille nodded, and placed an ear close to the floor. “They’re three floors down, in the lobby, doing donuts with their bikes,” she whispered to Kain. Cautiously but swiftly they made their way down the stairs. They were careful not to step on broken glass, and avoid brushing their feet on any debris. Before they reached the last flight of stairs, Kain saw the fire escape. Making a split decision he signaled Camille, they were not fighting, and he pointed toward the fire escape. Camille and Kain stacked on opposite sides of the exit. “I’ll take point if you can silently open this door,” whispered Kain. “Remember what I taught you, it’s just like slicing a pie.” “Hey let me use the AK this time, you can take your Glock back,” Camille requested. “Are you sure? You know the AK is a little heavy,” Kain rebutted. Camille nodded and they traded. Kain drew his knife with his left hand and locked his left wrist under his right. Camille opened the door quietly, and Kain observed a silhouette of a tall man with a Mohawk leaned against the rails. Thinking he didn’t need his Glock, he holstered it, but the click of his holster lock alerted the sentry. The sentry pointed his M92 handgun at Kain, racked the slide, and pulled the trigger three times, but all that was heard was three clicks. This stunned both Kain and Mohawk sentry. The sentry threw his pistol at Kain, but just barely missed him. While Kain dodged the handgun hurled at his head, the man pulled a tomahawk from his belt. “Kain!” cried Camille. Kain saw the gleam of the tomahawk’s edge rushing towards his face. Kain dropped to the ground, and the tomahawk just barely missed him. “Mother-fucking-bitch!” shouted the sentry and he started to charge Camille with the tomahawk. Before the sentry got any closer to Camille, Kain slashed the man’s Achilles tendons. The sentry crashed to the ground. Kain grabbed the man by the hair, and with the serrated spine, sawed at the man’s throat. Choking and gagging from his own blood, the bandit had expired. Kain breathed the sigh of relief. He picked up the M92 pistol and inspected it. Camille held out her arms and sobbed. “I thought you were going to die,” she sobbed, “I am so sorry, I froze.” Kain assured her everything was fine. He took apart the pistol and found the cause of the firearm’s failure to operate. The internals of the gun were pitted with rust through years of neglect. However what surprised them the most was the bullets used were carved from concrete. “I guess after ten years of this bullshit, bullets are finally running low,” Kain scoffed. Kain then remembered the sentry’s tomahawk. He picked up the blade and was amazed by the craftsmanship of the implement. The edge was honed to a convex edge, and the spike was beefy, but needle sharp. The handle was made of Dynawood and wrapped with parachute cord. Kain was ecstatic to have such a great work of art added to his arsenal. Kain and Camille looted the body and found several bandages and several canteens of water. “Oh Hells yeah, we hit the payload!” exclaimed Camille. Suddenly the motorcycle engines ceased their roars. A scream was heard from within the lobby. Kain and Camille rushed off the building and into the ruins of building across from the Empire State Building. Kain peered through his binoculars and Camille looked into the scope of her Remington. There was a woman and child in the center of the motorcycles. The woman’s face was stricken with despair and anguish. The little girl seemed to have been shot in her upper torso was fading in and out of consciousness. “Oh God have mercy,” whispered Kain. On two of the bikes were a few chains. On one bike was a man’s lower torso, and on the other bike was a headless torso. Suddenly a lone biker came cruising at a distance. Camille quickly turned her attention towards the biker. “What the hell…?” she said with a tinge of fear. The biker was wearing a spiked helmet with a man’s head impaled through the spike. “These are damned marauders, and he must be the chief,” scowled Kain, “These fucks are cannibals too.” Camille and Kain watched as the head marauder dismounted his bike and strutted towards the woman and little girl. Kain felt he should do something, but he knew they were outmatched. His and Camille’s hearts grieved to watch what happened. A bandit tossed a large maul to the chief and it was caught. The monster savagely beat the woman and finally her head was crushed. The monster then turned to the little girl. His face filled with anger and started stomping on her. The little girl didn’t even react to the beating. It seemed as if she had already passed. “Those fucking monsters!” seethed Camille. Suddenly a loud shriek was heard and a large mob of shambling silhouettes advanced toward the lobby. “We need to get out of here. Those fuckers made too much noise, and now they have a hoard of those infected Bug Brains coming their way.” Kain said in a rushed tone. Kain packed his binoculars, but Camille, with her Remington 700, peered into the lobby. One by one the marauders were being ripped apart. The Chief was flailing around as one infected launched its head towards him and clamped on his jugular with its gaping maw. “Death is too good for them,” Camille whispered. She then aimed her scope on a motorcycle’s gas tank, and squeezed the trigger. The bike then exploded and the explosion from the bike ignited the other bikes as well. Kain came running back and frantically asked, “What did you do?!” Camille pointed to the scene of Hell. Kain and Camille watched as the marauders were being burned and eaten alive. Then suddenly the building started to collapse. Kain and Camille ran from the collapsing ruin. As they both ran, Camille turned her head to look one last time at the inferno. “And God saw everything that he had made, and, behold, it was very good.” she whispered.

Give Me a Taste

Your soft lips.
Your smooth skin.

Your scent irresistible.
I want to taste you.

Make love to you.

Your soft hands touching mine.

Your flowing hair brushing against my body.

Your eyes glisten like diamonds.

I want you to know.

Make love to you.

Your beautiful whole.
Your body.

I want you for myself.

Make love to you.

Love and Lust

Lately I have been wondering what I should write to express my feelings and thought to my significant other. I on the verge on something. I have been listening to my youtube playlists for something to go along with feeling. I pondered on doing something sensual. That might be what I will do. Sexually arousing maybe?

A Moonlight Sonanta in the Apocalypse: Introduction

"Can we stop please?" whispered Cammille. "My legs are sore and I have blisters on the bottom of my feet." "I know Sweet Pea, I am tired too, but we can't stop now. I can still smell them." said Kain. Kain and Camille are always on the run. Keeping their heads low. Scavenging any supplies as they go. Searching any house they can get into without making too much noise. They slept in shifts and saying little prayers along the way. With hope of some sanctuary they skulk their way towards a church. "Why are we going to a church of all places?" asked Camille. "Because I've heard people using crucifixes as a shield against them," whispered Kain. "Wait here, I hear something inside."

Tried and Tired

I have tried and I am tired. I made my mistakes, and I am tired of trying to fix everything. I am tired of the chase. I am tired of trying to rebuild relationships. I've been patient and I know people are busy, but it's starting to look like they just don't think I am worth their time. I can read between the lines from time to time. I honestly would like an explanation. However I know how such patience is poisonous. Who am I kidding? If they won't take time to even say hi, then what am I thinking they will take time to explain their absence? There is so much more to be said, but why should I even try? Well, thanks for the memories.

Beauty Unobtainable

You force yourself to starve, and you wonder why you keep gaining weight. I have told you many times there is no magic pill, no super diet; you just need to get off your ass and start running. I give you suggestions for you to exercise with me, but you are never in the mood. You restrain yourself to only 1 meal a day, alas that one meal will not save you. You've gotten to the point eating makes you sick because your body is not used to the quantity of food you are taking in. You gain more weight and cry. I warned you and warned you. This is what would happen. You tell yourself you must be beautiful at any cost. At any cost... You snap and scream, you accuse me of being the source of your problems. You snap at my hands when I try to comfort you. You say being beautiful is the most important thing in the world to you. Who are you? What happened to the sweet, selfless woman that said I was the one thing she loved most? You tell me that fitting into that dress is most important thing for you to accomplish. Who are you trying to impress? Me? No that couldn't be right, because I love you and you are the most stunning to me. You tell me that you want people to take pictures of you and adore you. You want to be famous and rich. I can't provide you fame and wealth, but I can provide love. Alas, is that enough for you? It is not says you. You say it through your actions. You still seek this unobtainable goal. You will always be chasing will-o'-the-wisps. At last you have obtained your vision of beauty. But this is where I say good bye. After years patience, you finally broke my heart. You have betrayed our love. Your love was with Beauty, not me. Enjoy your finicky whore. For she will leave you with every passing moment. No amount of pampering you give her will keep her loyal to you. You will be wounded, the times will dictate what beauty is, you will age. Enjoy your beauty while you still can. You always said you must be beautiful at any cost, you spent and sacrificed so much to obtain your vision. Now you have spent me. Good bye.

Strong Shoulders

My shoulders carry so much weight, so my family says about me. They say I am too young. I am supposed to have fun. Get more sleep. Do well in school. They say I do too much. I just balance. I take care of my daughter and lover, attend school, and work graveyard shifts. For now it doesn't bother me. They worry I will break. Perhaps, but maybe not anytime soon. Yet I hear this... Clean up the house, keep everything clean, get a good job, work hard, be a man, grow a spine, get tough, lose weight, do good in school, be a good father, be a good lover. The more I think about it, it really does seem like madness. Maybe I will break, but maybe not this second. These shoulders are strong. I will carry my choices. My insides feel tight. My heart feels as if it is being squeezed. Breathing is hard. Eyes water and tears drip down my face. I don't think I am breaking. I will sleep on it. I will wake up refreshed. It will be a new day. I may not have have people helping me, but that's ok. I can do it all by myself. I can be strong. I can be a good man. I can provide. It's ok. I will not cry. I will live up to expectations. These shoulders are strong right? Is there anyone out there? I don't want to do this alone. Am I breaking?

Unwell

It screams at me. Seeing you just makes me sick. Thinking of what we have shared, drives me to the ground. So many unanswered questions. I cannot find peace. Let it go. I will make new memories. I will turn away from this hurt. I will let the pain pass through me and I will see that it was all for nothing. I am sorry I have kept you this long. I release you.

Just Talk

As of late, my memory has been failing me. I seem to make more careless errors nowdays compared to just several years back. I am not sure the cause. Every so often I find myself a little depressed, because I have not been able to remember any dreams. Sometimes I catch myself day dreaming about the dreams I had in the past. I wish that I could perhaps re-live them again. I wonder if any of it would make more sense if I did happen to have the same dreams again. I find it interesting as of late all my dreams that I do rememeber are post-apocalyptic. I wonder if that means something? Well I am hoping to make up a whole new storyline about the end of the world. The story is written to help my girlfriend with her computer arts class. She wants to draw out a comic/manga storyline to practice her skills. I am planning to set the story in the middle of the great war between Hell and Humanity. This storyline is pretty much in the same universe as my other stories. Hopefully since we have a goal in mind, I can actually finish writing out the whole storyline.

Riot Feeling

Even on my 22nd annual my heart feels heavy and my throat feels taught. I was happy. Alas not even on this joyous day do I escape the riot in my heart. Maybe it's well deserved, but I was  hoping not to be troubled on this day. I was hoping for finally peace amongst all. I can feel the tears already welling up. I am a fool. 

The Machinations of Me

There I layed, reading letters of days past. Slowly I remember the words I left around for you to find. And you did find them, however it was not clear if you knew they were for you. Nevertheless you said words that seemed to respond to mine, and i replyed with words that also seemed to address yours. Oh how we played this game of cat and mouse. Always I felt the need to chase you. Come chase me why don't you?