A Matter of Seconds

28th February 2009

Dear reader,

The minutes melded into hours, the night drowned out the soaking calamity of the sun’s rays and all was well within me. The dark brings a certain allure to the morally challenged and socially corrupted and it is there that we find our solace. Lost lives, decaying obedience to justice and a young woman by the name of Dana weighed their precious price of deliberation on my mind. Scattered thoughts rampaged around a delicate inspiration of pure beauty; I had to concentrate or else this fleeting image would become a breath of the past and this was something that I couldn’t allow. I’ve talked relentlessly about the vileness of the night’s demeanour, but amongst the lost temperaments of this evil atmosphere lie brilliantly burning stars. Each blip of light, every facet of their searing contour burns silhouettes of Dana’s eyes into my mind. Her smile carves endless rifts into my soul, as if splayed open for all to see it and it is the one thing that can’t be hidden by the tormenting dark. The taste of her lips makes the food I eat unbearable, the smell of her hair makes the smog filled, rat infested streets tolerable and as I sit here trembling from the thought of her untainted beauty I realise how alone I really am.

I was 18, had graduated from school at 16 and mum was now working three jobs to support a 16 year old college student. Life was tough, but as if I wasn’t used to that, I worked Thursday nights and weekends to try and alleviate some of the burden, but still it wasn’t much. The years that followed my graduation weren’t kind to my mother; I remember standing at the bathroom entrance staring as the tears rolled down her face at the realisation of her cowering features. Two years had passed since high school and I sat contemplating the day’s lectures on those giant, innumerable cement steps that so many universities pride themselves on having. As a side note, those steps are ridiculous, who in their right mind would want to climb 54 steps that rivalled the incline of Everest. But it was on those steps that I met the ephemeral image of a true fallen star. Her presence as she brushed passed me was inundated with the intoxicating allure of her perfume. My spilt coffee that followed her harsh urge into my back meant nothing when I saw the radiant glow in her eyes. The moment felt like hours, but it took only a few seconds for her to realise her mistake and with recoiling disposition she dropped her books on the ground and began to wipe the liquid off my bleach patterned jeans. The trembling words of acknowledgement for her rather fortuitous mistake and apologies made me smile that half smile that males do so very well. Even though I said not one word, we had a lifetime of conversations and it was then that all my knowledge, all my strength and all my desires meant nothing. She became my all in a matter of seconds.

I’ll lay the thought of Dana to rest for tonight and tomorrow we’ll talk about the soul’s rift. A moment in time that seems to hinge the rest of your life, whether it is for the better or worse.

Zombie Nation

16th February 2009

Dear Reader,

I sat at lunch that day and even though I saw the ease of contempt at my broken innocence, I felt hate. I had a strength that knew no apparent bounds and instead of wanting to lash out at that instant, I knew I had to make my mind sharper, to make it glisten like polished steal on the battle field. Yes, brute force would come in handy, but the mind is the hilt that entwines the providence of the blade with the searing ache of the flesh. I would stop at nothing, my adversaries would know the exponential rate of my wrath, and I would be a god amongst men.

With the incredible strength, came a mind that melded to any situation. Maths, English, trigonometry, algebra and second languages became like soup to a starving child. I was a sponge that soaked up everything. The classroom lost its appeal as I became more knowledgeable than the teacher; I had surpassed them and proceeded to learn from my new masters that taught me at the local library. I would sit in class, staring into oblivion as I studied the contours of the mountains; I would watch as the kids kicked the ball and scrutinize its parabolic events before rolling to a standstill. My mind was becoming an untameable beast and at 15 my body started to follow my minds lead. I had started to shake off the scrawny exterior and awaken within me the monster that was clawing at the chance to raise its ugly head. With a new body emerging from its miniscule cocoon and a mind that would tear apart the mythical beasts of old, I inscribed the following passage onto my heart:

You all walk, you all talk, and you all subscribe to the falsity of your faculty to think. You are bonded by a social conscious to live a life destined for the mundane; you have become a zombie nation. You say you rage against injustice, but you don’t even know the meaning. The 10,000 fists that rise against a haunting picture on the television is not justice, the media induced sickness that fills the air is only but a taste of the putrid truth. You fight for what you know not, and sit idle at the wailing of your own decay. Humanity dies here with the sacred tear of the lilium as its only toll.

As the night once again weaves its spell of dimmed light over the roof tops, the dancing mirages wave their fabricated images above the landscape encapsulating the very truth of this city; the lives herein are the forced movements of a silent puppeteer.

And I have waged war.