= released =

separation streams from between my fingers listening to a slight and awkward plucking in the room next door. when the sun painted the inside of my eyelids pink, i heard a rhythmic squeaking from above and the sound of water falling from the blue that surrounds us. paranoia set in from a crime uncommitted and the blame laid elsewhere. there were shots fired but the forensic could only find one bullet buried in the quiet beast providing background for the scene. he got away, but came back and can't pay his bond. a tilted chin helps you look down on those around you until you look in the mirror and see the reflection. the blank eyes wonder how all the good habits were replaced with destructive ones and the questioning begins. dissipation is a lifestyle and consumption becomes a need you can't get a fix for. at the end of the day, you sit and wonder where time went. what does it sound like? what does it look like? what does it smell like? today...well today, it was a perfume of growing ash, and rubble. it looked like vacancy and flickering photographs washing the synapses free of imagination and excitement. it tasted like layer upon layer of trash on a sagging tongue. today... time became waste.

and to this....to this i say-

waste makes jack a dull boy. a mongoloid traipsing among blowing refuse in flickering lamp light on a chilly empty street. listening to the lonely sound of withered leaves rustling together in an effort to make some kind of contact. too many days of this and jack invents psuedo worlds in which he tears down the system he blames for his dismay. the damage bombards from without until the barricades inside begin to crumble with decay. the results of a forgotten inner sanctum and strength. the vulnerability of life forgotten behind the mortarless stones piled around as a last refuge from the terrors of outside. an emotional and spiritual hermit that has forgotten his name from lack of contact between the two worlds. there used to be a door here but his consumption has littered the place with too much clutter. hiding the path until serious cleansing is undertaken. throwing away the relics of vulnerability prove to be a difficult task indeed. but one which must occur before a decade slips by leaving nothing but the taste of dust in a mouth gone dry with the thought of any other existence.

jack. well jack figures he needs more than just a single serving friend...more indeed.