Spiked

"Hey, babe! Didya miss me?" Peter spoke with confidence, trying to hide his low self esteem. "Nah..." Replied the sweet mellowed out voice of a woman. "I know, that was a rhetorical question you fucking cunt.." The answer only completely annihilated his never existing hope. He spat out words as if they were numbers to a math equation, they had no meaning to him but since he knew how they worked and how to place them, he might as well use them. He sipped from his red coca-cola can and made a grimacing face, twisted and contorted for a few seconds then back to the emotionless, hopeless grin he always has. He sat there staring at the long, green pasture, swaying in the gusty wind, imagining the life of an ant. The woman would curiously watch him as he would move his lips as if whispering a secret to the wind. "What makes you tick Peter?" Peter did not hear her, he was occupied in his own world. "Peter. What makes you tick??" A bit louder she asked again. Peter stopped whispering but still did not hear. There was a loud engine flying above them. Once the engine was barely audible she asked again, a bit annoyed, "what the hell is going through your head all the time Peter?! Peter looked at her directly in the eyes, as if he still did not hear her, but she knows he did.. 

Blissful Living

"I long for that moment, that feeling. Those short minutes that pass by unnoticeably fast, but feel like an eternity when you are in the moment. That 30 minute drive down the desertic road, only a few cars in sight, and nothing but desert bushes, and a long empty road. Those few hours of infinite joy, of feeling like nothing but a tiny insignificant particle on a dusty boulder, so useless, but so crucial to the balance of life itself. The dark storm clouds, loaded with the essence of flourishing life, looming over the hot, dry sand, waiting patiently for its blessing. That perfect moment in time that only you can see, and understand." Peter sat in the seat, admiring the beauty that has been given to these worthless humans, "all they do is tear down the beauty and build ugly useless buildings, buildings that eventually will be torn down by time, and the very force that they have tried to destroy in the first place." Peter laughed at all the inconsiderate people who can not find beauty, "little did they know, the beauty was right in front of them, since the beginning of time. But these humans are just so concentrated on looking in the mirror and trying to beautify themselves that they lose sense of what beauty really is." These realizations made Peter feel blissful, he couldn't stop observing the mountains, imagining all the life that is and used to be. 

The Never Ending Story

A lit cigarette burned slow between peters chapped lips, the smoke crawled up his pale face, and left its signature stench in his messy, uncombed, brown hair. He sat in his favorite chair, it was 2 am and he could see flashes of lightning in the distance, there's was no audible thunder but he waited patiently for the rain, he liked the rain. He took a long drag, held the smoke in for a while, then let it out slowly, savoring every last puff like it was his last. Peter had lost all emotion at this point, happiness, sadness, grief, pain, laughter... He was just a blob, nothing, he had nothing to look forward to, nothing to desire, he'd completely lost his mind. His days consisted of fighting dragons, mixing ingredients and making potions, and making steel plated armor. Some days he'd pick up an ak47 and shoot down nazi zombies, then he'd take a break and smoke a cigarette and go right back to where he left off. Other days he'd just sit and watch his fish tank, staring at it for so long he was convinced that he was a fish swimming inside the aquarium, floating so gracefully between the plants, and chasing his other companions. Peters mind had become blank, he had lost contact with all human life, and he did not desire interaction with anyone, he liked his world just the way it was. The days he had to do errands were nightmares. There were always awkward looks and situations, he never knew what to say and if he did.. Well he'd only make it awkwardly painful. His sentences weren't long, he never tried to have a conversation, he just wanted to get to the point, and get out. One thing Peter did love was sleeping.. He liked the darkness, the quiet, the dreams that he could almost never remember. It's too late for Peter, but his stories will never end.

Earth To Stranger

Peter had had too much to drink, his opinions were like kittens he was giving them away... "It's time I let everybody know.... My favorite color is red! My head is full of dread, my thoughts have turned to knots, and if I had to make the right decision, I'd probably go left. If anybody ever counted on me, I'd probably sing the alphabet, and if you ever thought I could be someone to look up to, you'd better look down. I'm no comedian, I'm no clown, I'm just a regular person, with an alter ego that expresses his nothingness for life. A sense of release, getting drunk at night listening to old music and wishing I lived in the past. I'll never judge a book by its cover, but I sure as hell will make assumptions, and until you prove me wrong, I will stick to those precautions. I may be rambling, but that's what I like to do. When I hang out with my true friends, I sit in silence and enjoy the company, talking is completely obsolete, actions speak louder then words, and what's even better then any action in the world, is sitting in silence by someone you cherish and bask in the glorious sounds of our planet earth. People get bored easy, and don't appreciate what's important, they like loud music, and stupid sounds that come from a computer, open your ears to the sound of earths first concept of music, the crickets, the birds, the frogs, they were here long before us, their music is older then light itself. Come back down to earth, you've gone way too far!" 

Can't Find A Way Back

Peter was unsure... Unsure of his decisions, unsure of where he lived, unsure of what he believed, he wasn't sure of what he saw on a daily basis, it all felt like a dream, he was unsure of life itself.. He wasn't sure of where he was going, or what he wanted to do, he wasn't even sure of why. Peter didn't see a point in living, he saw no point in being social, he didn't want to talk to anybody or be around people. He hated everybody, but he hated himself even more. Talking was a useless human interaction, and emotions were even less useful. He soaked his bones with alcohol and let all the excess water pour out of his body. He wanted to care, he wanted to love, he wanted to make someone feel special, but he's long forgotten how to do any of that, he's spent too much time wallowing in his own pity that he's just forgotten.. Forgotten to the point where he won't even let anyone into his life to remind him what life is all about, "but honestly," he said aloud under the polluted night sky, "life is simpler this way,  I have less to worry about and it's very satisfying," little things made him happy, and big problems never bothered him, all he ever worried about we're if he had enough cigarettes and alcohol to make it through the night... And he had plenty of both. He took another sip from his cup, "solitude is bliss, forget all the outside problems, as long as I have a place to rest my head and close my eyes, maybe one of these nights I won't open them ever again!" He didn't need love, he didn't need friends, he didn't need a home or a car, God gave us feet, and I damn sure will use them!" He chuckled, there really wasn't anything funny but he just laughed at himself and how far he had gotten to being absolutely nobody in a land of nothing. 

Born To Die

A pile of hot coals laid on the ground, burning with an orange glow, consuming itself, each coal enjoying the company of its fellow brothers and sisters, all burning passionately together. Peter sat in front of the small orange light, he watched the way some parts of the pile burned hotter, brighter than the rest, then they calmed down and got back to the same glow as the rest. He watched, as over time the coals began to turn grey as a layer of ash grow on each coal, and eventually fall off. Peters father came out and began to scold him, his father kept telling him what a fool he was being, how peters decisions could be better, "do what I tell you, Peter, I'm older, stronger, wiser, I know what's good for you!" Peter listened to every single word he said, and it infuriated him, it annoyed him, it was like a mosquito buzzing in his ear, but this mosquito he could not smack away. His father continued to scour him with "wise words" and "good advice" Peter had so much to say in return, but instead he sat in silence and let this man scrub him down to the bone, Peter held in his tears, he held in all his pain, he held in all his anger, his agony, his misery, he felt no need to prove himself, because it would be no use. He sat there and let this man feed him all these "tips and tricks" to life, but Peter felt it was no use, that his father was wasting his time and energy because no matter how many times he tells Peter, he still will not learn.. As humans, the best way for us to learn is by experience, by trial and error, by disappointment, success, achievement, by seeing results... This is why Peter did not speak once, he did not try to argue.. He just watched the coals burn with the flaming passion they had, and just like the coals, he enjoyed the comfort of his burning brothers and sisters, burning and burning and burning through layers, ash growing on him until he was just a pile of cool ash, only to be sweeped away by the air. 

Time

The music played, Peter felt its immense power come above him, the sweet melody, the cool tone came above him like a cloud of dust, carrying him away to a place far away. He could hear the clock ticking and with every second that passed he could feel his body transporting into the future, second by second. He realized he was a living, breathing time machine, carrying on a forgotten culture, a self destructive civilization. "I'd like to be here, but I can't!!" He smiled at the phrase, "I'm going to find my mind, I'm going to find my sanity, I'm going to fulfill what I'm supposed to do, I will never fail," he was confident, he was sure, he finally felt.... happy. "I will not let anyone ruin this, I have found my path and I will follow it, til the end, the end of time, the end of eternity!" This was a new Peter, one that not even Peter himself could recognize, and that was a sure sign of truly finding his sanity once again.

After Words

"Death seems like the only answer," Peter thought to himself. He was truly sick of life and being alive. The thought of death was beginning to sound like a good idea, he was on the edge of madness. He could feel terror coming near, he could hear screams, see blood, fear was nearing the hearts of many. He felt controlled by a higher power that was not god, he knew something was going on, something beyond anyone's control and he didn't want to be a part of it. He couldn't drink his sorrows away, he didn't have any smoke to help him forget, the pain, the grief, the miserable feeling of loneliness was growing larger on him, it was beginning to feel heavy, unbearable, he was drowning terribly and there was nobody reaching out to save him... He wanted to lay down in his bed and never wake up, he wanted to see what was after this plain, monotonous "life" that we have been given. "Maybe I'm not going to happy place afterwards, but maybe I am, I will never find out unless I go..."

You Won't Like It

Peter would like all of you to know something... "Humanity sucks, and the direction we are heading in will lead to complete self destruction" he took a deep breath, "I'd like for all of you to know, that I hate you all, we as human beings will never keep each other satisfied, we always let each other down at some point." He was simply rambling on, annoyed, sitting alone on a bench in the parking lot, he didn't see people anymore, he saw pests, rodents, animals, killing one another to feed their own families, Peter doesn't care if you like what he says or even if you like what I write about him, he doesn't care about your interests, or what amuses you, he isn't trying to put on a show, he wants you to laugh at him and call him a sick loser freak with no friends, don't try to be his friend, "don't even try to be 'different' cause you are all alike."

Same Shit Different Day

The same spot, the same chair, the same table, the same fan, the same music, the same phone, the same room, the same dog, the same cigarettes, everything was the same, except for the day. Although nothing has changed, Peter saw everything like never before, because although it was all apparently the same, he knew it wasn't. There were particles, and cells from other people, more footsteps, more hours have been added to all the same items that still layed on the table from weeks before, days have been added to Peter's eyes, he could see them differently, weeks have been added to his ears, he could hear the sounds more distinctly, with more understanding. It was in fact the same shit, but it wasn't the same at all... Only because the days have changed it.

Maintenance

Peter sat in silence as the cleaning lady walked in, he didn't say a word, he just sat there, hoping she wouldn't notice, he was as silent as a mouse, holding in his burps, whispering his deepest desires. He wanted to get away from everyone, he didn't want them to know his existence. Peter was valuable, but he didn't want anyone to know it. He made himself look like a clown, just so nobody would take him seriously, he didn't like being treated nicely, he liked being mistreated and ignored, that's how he wanted it. He was in his happy place, listening to the water run across the room, he had lost his mind already and there was nothing the cleaning lady could do about it.

Separation

Peter had began the process, the process of a new beginning, the process of leaving the past behind, the process of meeting new people and loving what he has, the process of seeing life from a new perspective and learning things from a different point of view, the process of giving but not expecting anything in return, Peter began the process of separation, becoming one, becoming whole. He awoke today with a light in his face, a flame burned in the place of his pupils, a firey passion burned in his heart, his soul was alive, he would take what is rightfully his. He began a journey, a journey that would take years, and a lot of patience. He listened to the birds sing outside his windows, dogs barking and alarms ringing, he closed his eyes to fall back asleep but his eyelids burned. "My future is promising," he said to himself as he jumped out of his bed, the phrase had been repeating in his head all night, he could feel it in his bones, every tissue of muscle that he had, the sound of music moved his every being, walking to the kitchen he felt like he was dancing. "This is my process."

Words

"Fuck all of you, I don't give shit, music is my best friend, it soothes my soul, and when you say it doesn't matter, it's all I have. I'm Peter fucking Paray, I don't care What you say, turn off the light, it's night on the sun!" Peter is out, the words are straight from his mouth, he's feeling good, he lights a cigarette, his blood is flowing, his mind is at ease, "smell 'em! HAHAHAHAHA!" He's fucking insane

Smoke in My Eyes

Peter lit a cigarette, he bathed in the smoke inside the tiny room. He sat peacefully, dreaming of nothing, just darkness, silence, being absolutely no one. "Pete!!" A voice shouted from outside that brought him back to this floating rock from which he exists, he listened carefully for the voice again...... Nothing. He took another drag, a ribbon of smoke wandered into his right eye, he blinked uncontrollably, it stung, he closed both eyes and drifted slowly back into his dark abyss. A few minutes passed and again "Pete!!!!!" Louder, stronger, more Affirmitive that it was actually there. "What the fuck!!" Shouted Peter angrily, "this fucking asshole," he said silently. He put out his cigarette and walked slowly to the other room and laid on his bed, alone, cold, the lights were out. He put a pillow over his head so he could shut out the outside world "blow it all up, blow it all up, blow it all up, blow it all up," he repeated as if commanding some outside force. "PLEASE!!"

Steel Toe Boots

Peter just went out and bought a brand new pair of steel toe boots, he was tired of all the bullshit, he had stepped on it far too many times in his Nike sneakers, it's time he got something that will last. The boots are for the bullshit, the steel toe is for kicking everybody he hates (which is 99.99% of the world) he got them extra heavy with rigid soles, just so he won't have to stomp as hard to crack the skulls. Peter has had it up to his ears, he's tired of all you lying fucks, come at him, he'll kick your shins shatter the bone, then stomp you and stomp you and stomp you until he can see what you were just thinking. "Hahahaha!" He laughed and smoked his cigarette, he felt like he was on top of the world! He could conquer all terrains, from the desert to the mountains, even walking on the beach would be a breeze, bring the snow and the ice, the oil and the water, it's no match for Peter and his shiny new steel toe boots

Something Something Something

Peter sat alone with King Rat, smoking a cigarette, he bobbed his head to the beat. His story is unlike any other, but everyone has lived through it before, his stories are the untold myths and legends, the unwritten history that nobody speaks of. He didn't know what he was destined to do, but he knew he had to write something, he had this feeling of greatness, he felt powerful by himself, greater than the world itself, nobody understood him, but he could understand everyone, Peter is darkness, Peter is light, Peter is an example of everything but the truth, he's got all most everything figured out, but when he's almost there, the pieces fall apart, he can't hear you talking, he doesn't believe you. "Shut up!!" He took a breath "SHUT UP!!" He was consistently inconsistent, he was at all the right places at the wrong time, he met the wrong people in the right places, he smoked too much, he drank too often, he thinks about EVERYTHING, ask him a question and he will give you a straight answer, people tell him to try, because if you don't try you will never achieve anything, all he's been trying is to find himself a girl, but the harder he tries, the smaller the possibility. "I'm destined for greatness, my name is known in the future, I try my hardest in my own way."

Hiccups

Peter chugged an entire bottle of his favorite beer "one down, five to go" he couldn't have any evidence left over. He popped the top off the second one and started chugging, he needed to get drunk as fast as possible. His mind kept wandering into the dark depths of regret and the miserable memories of her. "She made me feel... She brought me back to life, only to fill my head with lies and then tell me 'it's not going to work.'" She had made promises to Peter, she had told him she loved him, she wanted him, she wanted to give him the world, but when Peter finally opened up to her, all those words seem to have disintegrated in his immortal love he could've given her, now he was just angry, but not at her, at himself for being so self centered. He took another big swig, *hicc**hiccup* "double hiccup!!" He exclaimed, as if unlocking some kind of achievement, breaking some record. He lit and cigarette and puffed it slowly, opened his mouth wide and let the smoke flow out freely into the big open world *hiccup* *burp* the hiccup gave him a sharp sting in his heart, he beat his chest as if to kick start his heart into the regular beat. "I fucking hate you, you're a stupid lying whore, who can understand women..? They say they want something but when they get it they change their minds." Peter felt confused, he didn't do anything wrong, she just got everything she wanted out of Peter, she got the ego boost she was looking for and moved on to the next guy. *hiccup* *hiccup* the hiccups were beginning to annoy Peter, just like the thought of the lying bitch that he gave into...

Peter and Jack

A rolling home, Peter never felt so alone, he loved it! He picked a lane and kept going straight, follow the line until it ends, that was his job, except the line would never end, there was always a turn, there was always a road. Never had Peter been so far away from his house, but for the first time, he felt at home, "the great open road!" He exclaimed. He put it on cruise control and sat back, holding the wheel steady, he had all the time in the world to explain all the shit running through his head, or better yet, to not think of it at all and bask in the beauty of the great American country, he admired all the hills, the trees, the landmarks, he watched everyone pass him, the cold weather nipped his face, his hands were painfully numb and purple. "Peace has found me at last! Away from all the trouble!"

In Advance

Peter got in his car, his tank was full, he decided to take a drive. He wanted to forget he was alive, get away from everything, he went slow, took a drive down interstate 8. His favorite album on repeat, it never got old, he could see her face, and no matter how far he drove, he could never leave her behind, her face glowed, in his mind, she grew like mold. He watched the sun set, the moon rose, he watched the moon set, the sun came up, like a pot of gold. He burned his sorrow, he burned his expectations, he burned his happiness, he burned his dreams. He followed, he learned, he watched, and he sang. The horizon was flat, dry, and forgotten, just like peters heart, just like everything that he was. He rolled down his windows, stuck his head out, opened his mouth and caught a few insects, this was life, this was heaven, this was eternity, this was hell. Peter forgot where he was going, he drove on, he chased the lines on the highway, he could never catch them... The ultimate goal, the final destination... Nowhere.

The Perfect Combination

Peter had found a balance, he was right in the middle. He felt good, but he wouldn't let it get to his head, he thought he was funny, but all his jokes were corny, he found peace, but war was taking place just ahead. " I won't let this get to my head, it could all go down the drain in a matter of moments" he sat and enjoyed his cigarette in this time of ease, he didn't feel depressed, but he sure as hell missed it, it felt wrong to him, like something was missing (although everything was going right). The night was young, but Peter felt old, his soul was tired, his head was aching, his ears rang, his hands were shaking, he tried to speak but his tounge was dry and it stuck to the top of his mouth. Peter grabbed his water bottle and took a sip from it. He concentrated deeply on not thinking too much, it was exhausting, his brain was spurting out thoughts like a waterfall, he ignored himself, he thought about her, what she was doing, all his desires were gone, all his dreams were locked up in the trunk of his car, he took them everywhere but never dared to open it, he wanted his soulmate to do it for him, he was waiting for the woman of his dreams, but apparently she was locked in the trunk too, maybe one day she could force it open and make all of peters dreams come true. "It's a funny thought," he spoke aloud to the insects and wild animals that were hiding in the bushes around him, " how one can live through something so important, feel it, smell it, hear it, see it, but when you are with someone else, they have no idea what you've been through, I guess that's just a stupid idea, it just gives you a perspective of life that you never really realize." Peter looked around as if he were waiting for somebody, but he wasn't. "Sometimes I just wish life would surprise me with something amazing."

And In This Corner

Peter sat in the corner, his face was looking slightly down at the ground, his eyes were looking at the other side of the ring. He had a twisted, evil grin, he could smell fear, he could see blood, he could hear corruption and sin, it all brought him confidence, strength in him. He stood taller then before, he jump higher, walked faster, his arms seemed longer, he grabbed the wheel, and with his eyes closed, he swung it up in the air. His eyes still shut, he stood still "I'm not afraid! You are not meant to hurt me, you are not meant to overcome me! I will win, and you can't stand a chance!" He took a big step forward, eyes shut tight, he took a deep breath.... *KERPLUNK* the tire landed to his right, he felt the wind from the falling object on his arm, he opened his eyes and saw the tire standing upright by his side. Peter smiled bigger now, laughed as if someone had told him a dirty joke, then, abruptly, he turned and kicked the tire down flat on the ground, he walked away from it, back to his corner.

Take Me Home

"Aaaannnd... Off we go!" Said Peter, simply thinking aloud to himself and his two outside dogs, they probably didn't understand, but it made him feel less insane. He tried to gather his thoughts and feelings and mush them into one big pile of smelly ideas. He felt happy today, but he knew that, him being who he was, it was simply at its peak, and sooner then later, all that happiness would just blow up in his face and turn into total grief. He balled it all up and tossed it to the back of his mind. He kept his face emotionless, his mouth was not grinning nor frowning, it was partly open as he looked up at the stars, the last thing he needed to worry about were wrinkles. He took some breaths through his mouth, some through his nose and every now and then, he'd breathe in through both at the same time, he concentrated deeply on the present, the here, the now, not the yesterday or tomorrow "answers will come," he assured himself with the greatest possible vibes and tones he could dig out of his vacant mind. He looked up at the stars, no moon, no lights, just him and the night, a cloud of pollution swarmed all around him, he tried to make the best of it, it was enough to help him blank everything else out. "I'll be outta here very soon, I can assure you that!" He tried to hide his excitement, without sounding too unconfident, "if you allow me to, atleast," he said as he looked back up at the handful of flashing solar systems above him. He went back to his numb state of mind, lit a cigarette and stared blankly at the black gravel beneath his dirty shoes. Breathing slowly, as if enjoying his final breaths of life itself. A loud humming noise came from a distance, creeping closer by the second, a flash of light lit up all of his surroundings, and in the blink of an eye, Peter was laying in his bed, facing up, staring at a dark ceiling... "Goodnight."

Have A Damned Good Night

Peter doesn't need you, he doesn't need to talk to anybody, he doesn't need to express his feelings, he's happy just the way things are, the way they turned out to be. Peter likes to pass time, he likes talking to people just because, he likes to see things from different perspectives, he likes to learn, but he doesn't like going to school. Peter likes to burn time away, he drinks mushroom tea, and then has a few bottles of beer to numb his brain out. Peter doesn't like you, and he likes himself even less, but it doesn't hurt to pretend! He smokes cigarettes and has conversations with himself, he knows you don't like him, and you probably never will, but he hopes for the best, and he always tries to meet new people, but if it doesn't work, it's doesn't work, you won't have to worry, he hates you all, and you can hate him too, it won't bother him one bit. "Run away with me, if you dare! It'll be the time of your life... If you can put your complete trust in me, and I can trust you just the same," if it wasn't for autocorrect, you wouldn't understand anything he was saying, and if he told you in person, you'd think he was speaking a new language. Peter is a pioneer, he's not looking for posers, wannabe's, or hipsters. He's looking for wisemen, people that want to learn and experience more. If you aren't capable liking him, chances are, he won't like you. "So let's get this out of the way," he said aloud "follow if you care; and if you're just trying to be cool, FUCK YOU!" He liked saying bad words, and he liked dreaming just as much, he was ready for bed, he took his last sip of alcohol for night, "time to drive home..." It made him feel alone, but he liked being alone. "Goodnight..."

Without A Damn Care

"I found her!!" He screamed in pure excitement! "My girl awaits for me in tender time! My girl is mine! She is the world, she is my girl!" He rehearsed the lyric. Peter had found his girl, but soon after he realized it, he list her, "typical" he said to himself, "atleast it didn't hurt as bad as the other times, "she was perfect in every sense, except that she COULDN'T all mine," it made him sad to remember, he shook the memory. "There's plenty of fish in the sea, I suppose," he reassured himself for the millionth time, there was plenty more, he just couldn't ever cath them. "I'm okay," he was doing fine, the single life was good for him, although he lived his life as if he was married, married to a higher being of life that no one could ever meet, see, hear, or even smell. Nobody knew what ran through peters head, you could say he was madly in love with himself, he took another chug of that intoxicating liquid, the liquid that had been keeping him going since high school, the liquid that's always kept him occupied. "You help me forget everything, but you help me remember that you are everything I've got," he said reminiscintly to the little blue can inside the warm palm of his hand. "You make lines blurry, you make cars move fast, you make music sound louder, more amusing, you make me love harder and longer... I LOVE YOU!" A familiar song played, he put down everything in his hand and danced along, he swayed his head to the beat, "you know exactly how I feel," he said to his beloved music player. "How do you know?!" He was so confused, but pleased, entertained, "you always know, baby," he watched danger stroll by, love came right behind it, lights flashed, lines blurred, he could feel everything at once, cancelled out into nothing, "come one, keep going, beautiful, you're perfect!" He grabbed onto his lover, gripped her tight, "I'll never let you go!!" 

Numbed Out

"Fuck you" that's all Peter could say tonight, "fuck you," he had to shut one eye to light his cigarette. Plastered, like the wall in your bathroom, he ESPECIALLY did not give a shit. He couldn't tell left from right, his stomach felt queazy, he had to concentrate thoroughly on one thing. "Care" was the last thing he cared about.. He laughed at the planes flying by his head, his elbow slipped from the arm holder. "Worthless, like the dirt beneath my feet" but he knew that wast true, it was worth more than him, because it was holding him up.. He was fucked, and he was just talking shit because he was feeling "good." His favorite song kept repeating through his head, his fingers were numb, and he didn't care what he spelled wrong, but she cared, she corrected him...

Mental Reasoning

Peter is the reason all faith in humanity has been lost, Peter is the reason why you don't trust your peers, Peter is the reason for suicide and murder, Peter is the reason for grief and misery. "It's all my damn fault," he wrote in his notebook. "I did all this, it was me, I knew it all along and continued blissfully," he sighed a sigh of unwanted peace, spilling the words out onto paper helped him release and relieve, at this point he could not sleep, he merely smoked and smoked and smoked until breathing became a task instead of second nature. He was already unsure of his life, and she had just assured his unassurance. He already didn't give a shit about his life, his well being, and now, she assured him that he can give half of a shit less. But he appreciates her, he loves her, and thanks her, he knows now what to do. "Women are sent to earth to destroy men like me, if I can even call myself a man, they are sent to cause pain and destruction to lost lonely hearts like mine. I had given up on love, and she made me believe in it again, she made me feel it for a brief second, only for it to fade away again. But that is not the point, it's alive, and I know now that I cannot truly find love in another person, but instead I can find it in music, I always have, but I didn't truly realize it until now. I'm going to be loved by all one day, and no one will be worthy of MY love, they will all want it, but no one can have it, because like any great power, and great responsibility, if it is put in the wrong hands, it can be used for evil doings, and destroy everything." Peter felt comfortable, he felt at ease, he stopped caring once again, "it sucks to care," he remembered why he had stopped. "There is no greater love than that of the beautiful stars, the all powerful moon, radiating it's beauty upon the dark side of the planet. There is no one answer to life, simply more questions, more doubts, more disappointments. From this day on, I promise to better myself, but not for YOU, for myself, because I don't need anybody to motivate me, I don't need a woman to make me feel special, I make women feel special," Peter was simply talking shit, talking to himself, he was ranting, but he truly felt all these words from the bottom of his heart and soul, "nothing is the same anymore, nor was it ever, it's just the mentality, the perspective you see it in," he started to lose his mind again, he could feel it drifting away, leaving an empty space in his heart, his brain felt hollow, all that was left were the basic functions of life, how to get by. "I don't really mind it anymore, seriously," he lit another cigarette, just for the hell of it, he wasn't going to be able to sleep tonight anyways..

Carnival

"Good morning m'dear" Peter greeted with an odd smile, it was not like any of his other smiles, this one was special, he actually meant it, but still had to force it. "Morning, Petey" Hope and Peter stared at each others souls, carefully examining every realm of darkness in each others hearts, they both blinked at the same time, and as if they were robots, programmed to proceed in the same exact manner, turned south and walked beside eachother, as if heading towards a war. After a few minutes, Peter uttered a few words "I'm glad you came, I was starting to get worried," hope turned her head slightly, looked at Peter from the corner of her right eye, she had a small grin, her face looked worried. "I had to, I needed to see you," she continued to look ahead, they walked silently ahead. There was nothing particularly interesting about their path. The enormous trees, boulders the size of school buses, lizards about the size of an average vehicle (in human perspective), a small elephant crossed the dirt path they walked, Peter nearly crushed it. They took long, slow breaths, the air was thick. Peter broke the silence, "Do you understand?" Hope didn't look at him this time, her face was a deep natural color, her profile was perfect, she did not take her her eyes off the path, she continued to stare blankly, "I do, Peter, I understand completely," the response was satisfying, Peter's steps were lighter, a weight had been lifted from  his shoulders. The dirt path consisted of several curves, they could not see more then a few menaparoles (a dagonian measurement) ahead. The atmosphere was neither warm, nor cold, bliss floated through the red sky, the purple moon cast it's calming rays upon their naked bodies. together, in perfect harmony, they shouted a phrase, "United we have become, not even canaberaly can separate us now!" 

Invisible Enemy

This blog is called, "the LIFE and times of Peter Paray," do you honestly think he could kill himself?? NO. And it doesn't hurt to try either! Only some days does Peter wish he could die, but he can't, "it's fun to slip off trees and hang yourself though" he chuckled, "silly humans, death is for the weak!" He knocked on wood and finished his cigarette. Something struck Peter on the cheek, quick, painless at first, then it began to sting, it burned and then itched, he scratched uncontrollably. Life had snacked him for being such a wise ass. "What the fuck was that?!" He shouted, annoyed. He stood up and started swinging at the air, he spun around swung to all his sides, there were 3 onlookers, stopped in their tracks, watching Peter fight the air, shouting angrily. "Try that again!! Come on!!" The pedestrians examined him, looked around if anybody else was there near him. They gradually began to walk away, somewhat freaked out. Peter didn't notice them, he continued to swing his arms like he was in a boxing match, then began to kick, "take this! I know it hurts!" As he picked up his right leg and kicked his enemy once again, a swift invisible force made his left leg slip, causing Peter to fall to the ground. He slammed his head on the edge of the curb, the smell of blood ran through his nose, he could feel a wet substance slide down his neck. "Cheap shot!" He screamed as he began to sit up. He threw a few more effortless punches into the air while he was still sitting, it was no use, he couldn't fight something he couldn't see. He felt the liquid sliding down his back, his shirt stuck to his spine. He sat on the rough pavement, dizzy, disoriented, he forgot why he was even there.. He touched the back of his neck, the liquid was slimy and as he looked at his hands, it was blue. "Is this my blood?" He had never bled before. He reached into his pocket, pulled out a lighter and his pack of cigarettes, lit one up and tried to gain consciousness again, the smoke brought him a friendly reminder. "Atleast I tried," he said, in a cheery, disappointed voice, "atleast I tried."

Ignorant Bliss

"Peter....... Peter fucking Paray...." He cursed his God damned name, his stupid fucking name... How could he be so damn ignorant.. So fucking retarded... He listened to the steady bounce of the tennis balls hitting rackets, sneakers skidding on the ground, he concentrated on nothing.. He forgot his pain. "How could I be so vain.." He immediately erased the thought, he had to go back to bliss. "Forget, forget, forget, forget, forget, forget" he repeated until all he could hear was an irritating whistle in his ears, he closed his eyes and erased all the people around him, all the people he knew. "Peter God damned Paray, that's who I am," he said as he took a deep breath, he felt his foot slip. Instantly he regretted that moment, he couldn't catch his balance, he couldn't get a grip, he fell for what seemed like an hour, though it was only a few seconds, a tight, burning sensation grew around his neck, jerked him back and held him in mid air, his feet kicking, "bliss," he let out with his final breath of fresh air...

Unexpected Visitor

Give Peter your heart, and he'll throw it in his fire pit and watch it burn to ash. Give Peter your soul and he'll sell it to the devil himself for a bit of gold. Give Peter everything and he'll use it once and toss it aside for a later time that he needs it. He's got nothing and he'll gladly give it all to you if you ask for it. The only way to make it to Peter is through music "a sweet melody, and some heart felt lyrics, none of that techno bullshit" he'd had enough of the artificial sounds. He wants real people, with real instruments and real voices, that sing what they really think and feel. "Here's a song I wrote for you," he cleared his throat, made a funny motorboat sound with his lips and began "I don't give a shit about you, I'll spit on your momma, you give me liberty, I'm a piece of shit, I'm low down and gritty, smooth and soft to the touch, but oh so smelly, give me a wiff, I'll make you feel like jelly, but no one can stand it, so fuck you, don't touch me." He ended with a low tone, he really didn't put much thought to it, the crickets chirped, the theatre was silent, nobody was there... He clapped like a king at his own verse,"Bravo! Bravo!" A voice called from down the aisle. 

Cat Blood

"PETER!" A sweet voiced screamed out, she knew he was there, she could smell his cigarette. "Peter, I know you're there!" She stated out loud, so he could hear her. Peter sat at the far corner, right behind the brick wall, he had a small emotionless grin, he was drinking cat blood and was smoking his 6th cigarette within an hour. "I just want to talk to you, Peter," the voice almost brought him to tears, he loved her and he wanted to talk to her too, but every time he actually did, it was never the way he expected it to be. He sat still behind the brick wall and ignored her cries for love. You could hear the woman taking steps into the empty house, Peter still did not budge. He sipped on his cat blood and took another drag. The steps got closer and around the corner a beautiful face looked around the wall, right into Peter's empty stare. "oh, Peter!!" She ran to him and hugged him tight, Peter was still siting in his chair, he did not hug back, he just sat there. "Peter, I'm not sorry..." She said, looking angry at his stupid face, Peter was not sorry either. She stepped back and looked at his cup of red liquid, she knew what it was, she picked it up and took a long gulp, she had tried it before, and she loved it more then Peter did, "this is why I love you..." Said Peter to her, they both stared at each other, without a word, without a movement, they were completely still, like statues in a world of ruin, nothing around them but rubble and decay. An emotion poured out, they began to curse at each other, each curse canceling one another out and making a positive one. "Tell me nothing has changed, tell me it can all be the same," they sat together on the floor, the breeze blowing on their faces as they stared blankly into the unknown blue void up above. "Just like the sky, just like the stars, just like the sun and the moon,"

Sleeping Limbs

Peter wanted to explain what was going on in his head. He really wanted to tell you who he was. But he couldn't... Simply because there really wasn't anything going through his head, and he really wasn't anybody. When he felt upset, or angry, or even embarrassed, he would just sit in silence, he'll make you feel cold and alone, even when he's sitting by your side. He doesn't do this because he wants to, but because he is so deep inside his head, he will burrow himself in there, and simply observe, look at his surroundings and wonder what THOSE people were doing, what were THEY seeing, hearing, feeling, or smelling. He escaped his own body and dreamed of the souls, he would look into your eyes and transmit his fury in the form of silence.. It could scare an army away, the blank look Peter gave. It could tell you the answer to every single question you have at the present moment, but if he ever spoke, you would just think he's a fool. Actions are louder then words, but words can serve as a checkpoint, a phrase to apply the moment to. Peter was strong mentally and spiritually, if you ignored him, Peter could ignore you twice as better, he could forget who you were in a matter of seconds, but, if you regretted the action, he regretted it tenfold. "Rip my heart out and stomp it to pieces, flatten it out and let it dry on the pavement under the blazing, infernal star. But if you're going to do it, do it right, crush it to dust, and sell it for a dime. Don't ever come back, cause if you do, then I will too, and we both fucking know that there's no use. No fucking use. No god damn use to it, no fucking use at all. There's better men, much more attractive, funnier, with more money, more time, and an actual life. I'm just a sick child, laying in a hospital bed, waiting for death. There's no use in trying, you'll never fucking save me..."

Not Private At All

"This is the strangest life I've ever lived...people are strange," Peter just talked to himself. "You pollute the same water you swim in, the water you drink comes from a tank being polluted by 'be eficial' chemicals, controlled, maintained, like a fucking fish tank. We kill animals and make trophy's, the meat we just throw away or sell, the hunters don't want it," he started getting bored with the matter and decided to just start cussing "I'm not like you, fuck! I'm not like anyone, shit, nobody is alike, but nobody will ever fucking understand me, even if they say they do, that's only because I make myself understandable. My mind is elevated, out of this fucking world, you'd have to be a fucking Martian to really see what I see, to really hear what I hear, to really be what I am. I don't want anything, I just want to be sucked up into a god damn black hole, whatever comes after that I could care less, nothing matters to me, life is fucking boring and I've seen it all, even if I haven't seen it before. It's not a big deal, it's just matter. The things I've seen too often, that nobody wants, that's what I fucking love. I love boredom, I love sadness, I love seeing what's already been seen, but instead of looking at it like you do, I shine a brighter light upon it, I crouch and look at it from the bottom up, I put my head on the ground, my feet in the air, and spin around in circles until my head explodes, I spin in circles to infinity and vomit out all my misery, only to spoon it up, eat it, and choke on it again. I give you all my time, but none of you are worth it, I sit by the king, and ask him what his favorite color is (his favorite color is T*€H) and if you ever do see me, just keep on walking, I'm probably not gonna keep you entertained, just because I wouldn't give a shit, not about you, but about myself. I have no interest in bettering myself, so why would I ever try to make myself seem interesting just for the sake of maybe having a friend, and MAYBE changing my life. You'll move on, and again, another piece of my heart will be broken off and you will wear it like a necklace for the rest of your life, like a blood stain. My fucking example has been set, my corruption has been completed, I have transformed the city, the heart of the monster, and in return, I've learned to hate you even more then I already fucking did. What's the use...." 

Let It Loose

Peter had found it... It was small, and it seemed to fill that gap of doubt he had in his entire being, that need for answers, the big question. It was a small book, about as big as his hand, he admired it's simple cover design, it's familiar sense. He read through the first 60 pages, he didn't know he could read that fast! Hewasn't  finding the answers he was looking for, but there were some answers to his deep thoughts that he didn't think anybody knew about. It all seemed common knowledge to him. His head was itchy, his hair was knotting, he felt ok.. He sipped on his tea, the night was cool, a slight breeze pushed the Mosquitos away, it was fairly silent and he admired the songs in the night air, the chirping, the whistling, the calls of the wild. He was a part of it, he knew this now. He strived to keep himself in shape, started brushing his teeth regularly before bed. Something had stirred in his head and seemed to have awaken him. He was no longer looking for a lover, but a companion, a partner, a friend that he could never lose trust in. The planes hovered closer to him then ever before, their turbines spitting air into his face. He looked up but there was nothing there. "I can wait" he stated to the lonely night. 

Stirring

Peter mixed the simmering liquid, chunks of ingredients were floating on top. The water began to change color, it had a small trace of metallic blue. He continued to stir patiently. 5 minutes passed and he allowed it to sit, simmering on the warm stove, Peter took a long deep wiff of the bold smell, it almost made him feel high, lifted off the ground, he came down as he let the breath out. He added sugar, and a bit of lemon, it took Peter months to get the recipe right. He removed it from heat and stepped outside and smoked a cigarette while he allowed it to cool. He didn't want to think anymore, he wanted to imagine, he wanted to live his thoughts, "ah fuck!" He whispered angrily as a mosquito flew into his eye, it must've been a good sign. He extinguished his grit and walked back inside, the smell was hovering in the house, stinking up the room like cheap perfume, a smile decorated his distorted face, made his eyes seem shinier. He had no need for anybody else, nobody could understand his fucked up thoughts, his fucked up ideas, nobody but himself, he had no trust in anyone, not even his own self, but that's all he had. He stepped back to the pot, now somewhat cool, he gave it one final stirring, blending the flavor throughout the liquid itself, he poured it into his cup, it was 8 fluid ounces, just as he planned, that seemed to be the only thing he could ever get right.. He was proud of himself! He drank the night away, looking up at the stars, they were the only thing that remained unchanged to him, the only thing that could make him feel real, down to earth, they were always there, Peter always thought they shone for him, for his enjoyment, nobody could appreciate it like he did, not even an astronomer. "Thank you..."

Something That Is Not There

Peter was blissful, if it took shit to make bliss, Peter was bliss itself. He took a long drive, in the early hours, when everyone was asleep, the roads were empty. He had a frustration built up in his system, he wanted to fuck it all out. He wanted a beautiful girl to have for the night and give her the time of her life. It was a sort of therapy for Peter. But since he didn't have a beautiful girl, and he could never grow a big enough pair to talk to one, he was satisfied with a drive. He put the pedal to the floor, "I've got mine, but I want more!!!" He yelled out the car window as he sped by the trees, the stop signs, and the lights that were green. He wanted to be mean, but he couldn't be. He drank from a bottle, it was colored green, it helped him forget, and also raised his chances of getting in a car accident. He didn't fucking care. All he had was his long hair, which he always kept in a bun. He lit another cancer stick, he dreamed of what could happen tomorrow. He just wanted to make love, that was the way to his heart. If you could please Peter, he would love you forever, he would keep you satisfied, he would fuck you all night, but you have no time for him, "so why the fuck should I make time for you?" He wasn't worthy of love, but he wanted a lover, he was worthless but he was looking for someone to make him worth while. He wanted someone that could prove him wrong and make him feel strong. He thought he found it, but it was only a song, he sang, he screamed "my heart is slowly drying up!" It made him feel secure, secured in his solemn cage. He needed to get away, desperately, but no one gave him attention, if they ever did, they wouldn't get his. Peter ranted "I don't want to make this decision, can't you make it for me?" He waited on fate to answer but it never replied to his questions. He took another swig, at this point, not even alcohol could soothe his pain. He would still have to wake up in the morning, bright and early, he would still have to work for a living, and he would still have to live this worthless life he was given, he wanted to make more of it, but he didn't know how to. He was looking for an answer, but all life would give him was more questions and more decisions. He put them aside and waited for a reply. "Just tell me the fucking answer, I'm sick of guessing, wondering, and waiting....."

Wanker

"I'm a fucking loser.." He took another puff of his stale cigar, he was out of cigarettes, couldn't buy more. Summertime, the fish were swimmin, he was losing his mind, he wanted her so bad, but he couldn't see her. She was heavy, but she enlightened him. He was looking for something, he was thirsty for it, hungry, starving. She was his soul food, but she had something bigger than his burden, she had something that he could not stand. "I'm such a fucking loser!" He said it again, like he had forgotten. The smoke was heavy, he couldn't sleep, he had to be up early, but she didn't let him get his rest, out of him, she got the best. "Baby, baby, baby, baby... Don't cry, oh no!!!" He broke out in song. He inhaled, he choked on the stale tobacco, his throat felt thickly coated, the tar grew in his mouth. Life gave Peter lemons, and he decided to smoke the lemon peels. It didn't make you high, no rush, no thrill, no dizziness, he just wanted to smoke it. He was naturally wacked out, he didn't give a shit, he just wanted to say he'd done it, he'd been there, done that. "I'm a bloody fucking wanker.."

In Hell

Peter dwelled in the darkness, all he could hear were the crickets chirping and the small animals bustling in the nearby bushes. His eyelids were heavy, he was drowsy, it was late. He was contemplating his dream, "what did it mean?" He could not help but speak the words "lightning swept up the people, a man swung on the clouds, powerful currents of electricity came from his hands" he vaguely remembered the image, he looked like Spider-Man in the distance "he took all my loved ones, but left me." Peter felt disappointed, he was left behind, but he was used to it already, so it came as no surprise. There was someone out there, who did care for him, someone who fought for him, but he was too blind to see it, he was too heart broken to feel it, he was too anxious to understand it. He was scared to be alone, but the only one who was keeping him by himself was himself. He was more afraid of being hurt again then he was of being alone. He was afraid of waking up the next day and letting it go without saying goodbye. He was ashamed of his ways, but he was more ashamed of himself, he couldn't meet anyone's expectations, so he never even tried. It was the sound of the crickets at night, that kept him alive, it reminded him that whether he was happy or sad, they still did what they needed to do, and he would do the same. He thought back to the day, the day that was yesterday, the day that is today. It had come and gone at the strike of a clock, with the ticking of time, it will never stop, the madness in his brain only grows, like a mold, a fungus in perfect temperature, in perfect light. He choked on the smoke and coughed up someone else's blood. 

"Where am I?"

Feelings

Peter didn't feel like talking, he didn't feel like walking, he didn't feel like caring, he didn't even feel like breathing. He felt like disappearing, vanishing into the ground, to be stepped on by the rest of the world. All he could do was think, and think, imagining ways to die, to crawl into his cave that he calls his mind and never coming out. He felt like taking a plane to Alaska and standing naked until he was frozen stiff. He felt like wearing steel boots and jumping off a boat into Davie Jones' locker. He felt like slitting both his forearms upwards and watching all his blood pour out onto the ground. He felt like lighting a forest on fire and standing in the center of it until he disintegrated to ash along with the trees. He felt like driving his car off the San Francisco bridge while blasting his favorite song. He felt like threatining a police officer, and pretend to be pulling out a gun from the back of his pants. He felt like taking a hammer and hitting his feet onto a bed of nails, collapsing onto the bed face first. He felt like climbing the Empire State Building and free falling to the ground. He felt like standing in the middle of a hurricane, waiting to be struck by lightning, and if the Lightning never hit, he would've surely died from a loose electric cable. He felt like grabbing a razor and slitting his throat, looking at himself in the mirror as he watched his head dangle to one side as the blood gushed out. He didn't want to feel anymore, feelings sucked, hope sucked, joy sucked. He doesn't even know why he thought he could be happy. He felt like tying a rope to the tree by the river, putting it around his neck and jumping, as if diving into the water, except he would never reach the water, the water was only a symbol, a symbol of hope, hope that he could never feel.

Bed Time

Peter heard a faint squeaking sound across from him, on the roof, he look towards the where he heard it, saw nothing, he turned his head slowly around, checking his surroundings, he saw a group of clouds floating across the sky, the half lit moon giving the clouds a pastel texture, the night sky looked like a perfect three dimensional portrait that only Peter could see. He jumped up and took a bite of the air, it tasted like lemon, bitter, strong, he made a grimace when he fell back on his feet, his knees wobbled and gripped gravity once again. Peter flapped his arms and jumped again, he could feel himself get an inch higher off the ground but fell back onto his feet, he was disappointed. "Does she really remember me?" He asked himself, "does she really even care?" He looked back up at the moon, the clouds looked like mountains, slowily gathering around the moon, but not quite dense enough to cover its silver glow, a cold breeze swept in, he shivered, took a deep breath and relaxed. He saw galaxies shining, rats crawling, caterpillars transforming into butterflies at that very moment. It was time for him to get to bed, dream the rest of the night away. 

Waiting... Waiting...

"Next in line please!" A short young woman stood up and walked to the desk, her hips moved with a gentle flow of power, beauty in every step. Peter was mesmerized by her movements, he could not stop staring, along with 147 other people waiting in line behind her, Peter was number 76 and the line only kept growing longer. He could hear the young woman giggle as the receptionist told her something. "Come on, man. I don't have all day!" Peter said in a low, subtle tone Although that was not true, he had nothing to do afterwards but smoke a cigarette, he just hated being seen in public. The man 3 people behind Peter coughed and cleared his throat, the woman 6 people in front of him sniffled, and he heard a loud sneeze from the way back of the line, about 60 people including Peter, monotonously said "bless you," or "guzuntite," there was no return "thank you," so Peter just felt stupid for caring. "Next in line, please!" A tall, muscular man walked up to the desk, shoulders bold, striding slowly across the floor as if it were some kind of body building tournament, Peter didn't watch him go up. "This feels like eternity! God damn government.."  Peter was 75th now, keeping count only made it seem slower, more awkward, and the line kept growing, he could see it go on all the way down the hallway, turn, and continue on to God knows where. "This must be some kind of mistake, they are just trying to punish me. Well.. You've proved your point!" This man didn't take as long as the woman. "Next in line!" A scrawny, short old man raised his hand, like he was asking permission to go up, the receptionist waved his hand with a gesture telling him to come up. The old man took small steps, shuffling his wise old feet on the ground. "The places those bones have been..." Peter wondered. The line moved up one step, Peter was now 74th, he tried to keep an optimistic view of things, atleast he wasn't just walking in and joining a line of 170 something people. "I'm tired of waiting in line, I'm sick of waiting to be born..."

Blazing Inferno

Peter sat on the rim of the volcanoe, he watched the lava bubble deep down at the center beneath his cool bare feet. He lit a cigarette and spit down into crater, the tiny drop evaporating before even reaching halfway down. An angel came and sat by Peter, they both sat silently looking down. It was a beautiful image.. Peter looked around at the vast forested island, Peter watched the birds fly above his head and into the bright blue sky until they disappeared over the horizon. "I wish I could fly," he told the beautiful angel sitting beside him. The angel turned his head and watched Peter admire the smooth pool of flaming inferno below him. "Where I come from," said the angel, "you don't need to wish, you have everything you'll ever want." Peter looked at the angel, he could not distinguish his face, it was bright, like looking at a flash from a camera. "How can I get there?" Peter asked him. The angel looked down the crater and slid off the rim into the pool, vanishing instantly.. Peter smiled with curiousity down at the burning core of planet earth.

Moral Support

Peter crouched behind the brick wall, bullets zipping by, bombs exploding in the near distance, rubble flying at all angles, tapping on Peter's head. He was cold, afraid, and out of his comfort zone. "How the fuck did I end up here?" He asked himself. It was a bad dream, he fell from no where behind this wall in the middle of the war. He could see signs from all sides, he had no answer. Something inside of him told him to look up, a star shot accross the sky, "how I wish I could be you," he said to the shooting star. "Alive for what seems to be a moment, and vanish into thin air, into this vast void." What Peter didn't know was that he WAS in fact like a shooting star, vanishing into the void after he passed away. To others his life would seem short, distant, and as quick as an instant, he would be gone. He scrunched up into a little ball and rolled onto his side in the filthy dirt, he was naked, like a baby, freezing. "What am I doing here?" He questioned destiny, fate, life, the odds were out of his favor, he did not know what else to do but weep in his grief. Suddenly the bullets stopped, the explosions ceased, there was complete silence, he couldn't even hear the crickets chirp, he just heard a loud whistling sound in his ears. A bright white light appeared in the sky, brighter than the sun, illuminating all his surroundings. he could see the wall, it was long, he could not see its end on either side, too scared to look over it he could only look out to the empty plain on his side of the wall. The bright light continued coming down towards him very steadily, slowly. he felt at peace..

Momentary Literalness

Ashamed, lying in the mud, he was soaked, dirt in his crotch, dirt in his socks, he was already there, so he just made the best of it. He didn't feel like getting up, so he just pissed where he lay. No one was around, and if they were, they wouldn't care. He felt like another piece of dirt, he was blended in, mixed together with the earth. He felt a bond, a connection, he was momentarily a piece of this floating rock, though he always felt that way, this time it was literal, he felt it more strongly then ever. A bird flew over peters idle body and shat on his bare stomach, he chuckled, it tickled him. His body started to get warm, the heat from the core was rising up, the sun began to dry the mud, he tried to move his arm but it was stiff from the thick layer of earth that caressed it. He didn't want to get up anyways. "I feel alive!!!!" He shouted at the top of his lungs at the blazing rock above him

Old Photos

Peter found it extraordinarily amusing the way a couple of old photos could bring him back so many memories, he always told him self "a picture is only worth a thousand words" but his own pictures... Pictures that he took while behind the camera, those are worth so much more than just a thousand.. He remembered the times he fell, cut his face, the times he flew, the times he went to school, blazed, the times he sat in class, or at the park, on the beach watching the sunrise while he skipped first period, he remembered the laughs, the foreign friends that barely spoke English, the freshmen, the seniors, the hallways, his true love, his first grudge. Peter wasn't always this hateful, depressed freak. He remembers being somewhat happy at one point or another, a time when people actually wanted to be around him, and him around them. Now a days the people that want to be around Peter, he wants nothing to do with. Peter thought about the future. He was actually excited! "A change of atmosphere will do me good!" And it was true. He was running the same routine on a daily basis, and it's been this way for almost 3 years. It's killing him. He was allowed to do anything he wanted, but he didn't allow himself to do anything..

On My Way

Peter was exhausted, he was starving, and he smelled like shit. He walked on down the street of cluttered houses, windows cracked, the walls had spots of paint, the rest of it had chipped off, the doors looked as if they would fall over at the slightest breeze or air to sweep through the neighborhood. Peter tried not to look around too much, he could see lights inside the houses, faces staring out at him, he did not want to invade their privacy. He heard gun shots in the distance and strange animal sounds, he shivered at the thought of his arrival home. He walked on slow, he could hear the whispered voices of small groups of people chatting away on their porches as he dragged his feet through the dusty ground, he avoided eye contact so as to not burn their souls to ash. Peter had made a big promise, a strong commitment, they were the least of his worries. He strided carelessly on, looking for some side street he could turn onto and finish his journey into perilous doom, the road was long, monotonous, and he could see no end to it, just beat up old homes and flickering porche lights. He looked at his watch "11:59" he said aloud, so as to confirm that it was really the time, just a few blocks away he could hear the bell tower ring 12 times. "I'm home." 

Suspension of Disbelief

"Skyscrapers look like gravestones from up here!!!" Peter shouted. The heavy guitar riff, the fast paced drum beat made Peter angry, pissed off, he stuck his middle finger out the car window. "I understand!! I don't care!!" Cars honked at him, he gave them dirty, serial killer looks. He wasn't afraid of anybody, and he didn't care if he died. He put the pedal to the floor and zoomed by all the cars. He turned up the stereo and kept flying. He didn't need anybody, and that made him feel like a king, a God. He was a stranger to everybody and it made him feel unstoppable. His cars wheels began to lift off the highway road, he floated over the car ahead of him and as he began to pick up more height, his car began to go faster, he flew over the bridge that crossed over the interstate, her name began to repeat itself in his head, "FUCK YOU ALLLLLL!!!!!" 

The Hanging Tree

A familiar song played itself in peters head "strange things have happened here, no stranger would it be, if we met at midnight in the hanging tree" the words haunted him as he repeated them effortlessly. He remembered the feelings.. They all rushed back. He remembered the smells, the sounds, the voices, like they were coming back from the dead. It was midnight, and as he looked up at the stars, he was waiting at the tree, waiting for her, but she wouldn't come.. She wouldn't be there. He missed her, he felt that he needed her, but he knew he didn't, it was simply lust, greedy, greedy lust. It only reminded him of what could've been, what he didn't have. He waited at the tree, looking for company, all he could find was a rope and a short stool. He sat on the stool and imagined all the dirty shoes that have stepped on it, all the liars, the thieves that stood before the tree, the final image they ever saw, before they left this perfect world. A dead tree, standing alone, the beauty of the tree had died off, just like the rest of its victims

Sam

"This goes here," he placed it on with care "I can put this there, and a little red too," he stepped back and took a good look at his creation, it was wonderful! "A masterpiece!!" He announced. He punched it as hard as he could, it stood in its place, he kicked it 3 times twice with his right leg, once with his left, it didn't budge. He chuckled.. His creation was nothing, he didn't make anything, out of everything. He mixed and matched and put parts together. It was strong, sturdy, something that Peter could never be. "I shall name you..." He paused and took a couple breaths, closed his eyes and imagined for a minute.. "I'll call you, sam. And you will be my worst enemy and my greatest friend" and it was, it was everything Peter had, and everything he didn't have, it was god and it was the devil, it was Peter and it was you. "How would you like to start your journey, Sam?" It had a blank stare... "You're your own person now, Sam!" Peter went to the kitchen got a cup of water and when he came back Sam was gone. "Damn it.." 

10 Days Later

"What a glorious day to be alive!" Peter looked up at the perfect sky, a few small white clouds decorated the light blue sky, it looked like a portrait he had never seen before. His cigarette was going out, like a lifeguard, he gave it air until it came back to life. It tasted old, stale, like dirt. He sat in the shade of a group of cluttered trees, the breeze made him feel calm, collected, the way life was supposed to feel, the leaves on the ground made an entertaining sound, it was one of his favorite songs. He stepped out into the sun and felt its invigorating Rays of light, warming up his skin, his soul, reminding him that he was still human. 

Dry

A time of madness, a time of fear, a time of destruction of joy and tears. Rip your heart out plant it in the soil, remove your soul, sell it to the king, the lights go out, happiness stings. Close your eyes, hear the angels sing. It's a new begginning and an old, repetitious ending, you know what's going to happen, you have no idea what's coming. Toxic wast in the air, every breath you take it builds in your lungs. You don't want it, but you're gonna have to take it. Peter accepted this promise, he looked around and saw no one, there were voices in the air. "I need a drink.." He poured a tall glass of cold milk, and chugged it down. He let out a loud belch, it quenched his dry throat.

Lunatic Memoirs

The forest was dense, beams of moonlight ripped through the darkness like platinum lasers. Peter dodged the deadly beams, creeping through the shadows, like Bigfoot looking for his lost soul mate. He heard music from a distance and continued to tread away from it. With each step that he took, he could feel his shoulders getting lighter. The memories of humans fading away, the comforting void calling his name. There was no air flow between the trees, only his deep long breath as he sighed and took another step, leaves crunching, faggots cracking. "Tell me your name," he demanded "what's your name?" Still cautiously walking, he laughed, as if someone had responded to him in a sarcastic way. "I like you, you make me feel safe, at home, comfortable," sweat dropped down his forehead into his right eye, he stopped in his tracks and shut his eyes tight, almost in a ritualistic form, forgetting all the people that have made him upset, all the people that have made him, Peter. "You like that, huh? You like to watch me suffer!" He chuckled. "I just like getting into your head.." 

Assurance

Peter stood in silence, observing his calm surroundings. The sky was muggy, the moon was covered. A cloud of mist rolled in and tickled his nose. He lit a cigarette. "I don't feel like myself.." He assured himself, he wasn't sure if it was good or bad.. "I need more time alone, more time to think, more time to expand my mind," he wanted to drive, he wanted to be far away from this place that he calls home, he didn't want to see anyone "people disappoint me, and the ones that don't, I hardly get to see.." He had gotten a gift for his mother, he wanted to make his father proud. "It's always about everyone else, but when I feel the need to be happy, I can't do it," Peter was never sure of anything, and he could never take a side for himself, it always had to be someone else's side, someone else's advice.. "This time it's different, I know it is!"

Seize the Day, Peter Paray

Peters has been having strange dreams, dreams that predict the future, dreams that tell him what's coming, but he doesn't know what to make of them until the day is over and he thinks back and compares.. Peters life has drastically changed. He's learned to seize the day. He takes responsibility for his actions, and if it's not what he wants to do, then he won't do it. He's manned up and made his own decisions, he's keeping his goals in his view, and he doesn't care who's who. All the faces in his life have blended, and all he sees are different colored auras. Lights in his eyes, he keeps walking straight, he follows the sound of laughter and the smell of expensive perfume. He's determined to get what he wants, what he's looking for, and though he isn't quite sure what that is, he's going to search and search and keep searching until he can feel the presence of happiness, the presence of his ultimate goal, his final dream, his one true love..

Lost Connection

Peter longs for a connection, unlike the one with his best friend. Peter wants a friendship that allows him to touch, hold, feel and express. He longs for a connection that is new, one he hasn't seen before. A connection that makes him feel warm and cold, sad and happy and angry all at once, a connection that he knows is between him and her and no one else. A connection that he can share with his friends but they could never understand, he wants to get inside of her head, and she inside of his. He wants to be there for her worse times and the best and she for his. Peter is dying for love, but he can't seem to find it.. He comes close, but nothing promising. he's lost all desire, all ambition and he wants someone to bring that back to him.. He's lost the key to his heart and he's looking for someone with the lost copy.. A very small fire still burns where his passion used to live, or else he would've hung himself on a tree by now, he would've ran his car off the side of a bridge. Something still burns inside of Peter, but he just doesn't have any tinder for it..

Dagonia, District 696

"A-are you h-h-h-her?" Peter asked, staring at the calm gentle face. "am I who?" Asked the beautiful angel faced woman. "Well, y-y-you k-know... Are y-you HER?" Hope looked confused, she didn't understand who, her, was.. "Oh dear, that portal must have scrambled your mental proccesing glodmere gland" she stated in an alarmed tone, "my mental proccesing...huh?" Peter felt ridiculous. "Your glodmere gland! It's the most important part of your thought process!!" She said as she was digging through a little yellow bag, with a sort of tone that a mother would use when scolding a child. "You have no idea what this could do to your social life!" She continued to dig through the bag. "I have no social life, I don't like anybody" Peter recited. "I don't even know where I am, or if I'm even on the same planet and I'm already reminded how much I suck at life.." He thought out loud to himself in a whispered voice. Hope giggled, "is that so?" Peter looked at her and nodded, "100% certain, fact proven" she smiled and gave him a small white square, "chew on this!". Peter accepted it heedfully as he thought, "I was about to die anyways, and now I'm on a plane in a red sky, fuck it, I guess.." He put the square in his mouth and chewed it, it was minty. "What is this supposed to do?" He asked her. "well for starters, it will make your breath smell better" she laughed as she put one in her mouth as well "it's just gum, i think your glodmere gland is fine, your stutter was worrying me but apparently it's better now." She looked at Peter with tender care. Peter tried to make the best smile he could, but it felt much too awkward. "My name is Peter" he told her, "I know, we've been expecting you!" She said joyfully. "You've been expecting ME?!" He asked, astonished that anybody would ever be expecting him, amazed that those words have actually come out of another persons mouth, ran through that persons actual mind, "Where exactly am I?" Hope looked to the front of the plane at the pilot, he was focused on the red sky. "You're on planet dagonia, of district 696," her eyes still fixed on Peter's, "Our prophet has declared your coming 60 years ago, he is on his deathbed and expecting your arrival as we speak." 

Hello Hope

"This is getting out of control!!!" He screamed at the top of his lungs! He tried steering the cart but the column had snapped, the brake line was cut, he was going straight down the top of the mountain, he couldn't stop it! If he jumped, he'd die, if he stayed in the cart he'd have more time, but eventually hit an object at full force, fall in style and eventually die. He'd rather be a fashionable guy. " fuck it! Enjoy the ride!" He told himself above the buzzing of the small, burning hot wheels. "Bring it on!!!" He leaned forward and picked up more speed, the wind in his face made him feel alive, he forgot about death and made the best of the here and now. Trees began to appear more heavily then before, the road became shadowy, he couldn't see as far ahead. "YEAHHHHHH!!!" He was starting to feel better then ever before. There were small gaps in the forest that allowed certain beams of light to shine through, the only wind those trees could feel was from Peter's speeding cart, he created a tunnel. In the distance he could see a sharp curve in the road. "I guess this is it, buddy. It's been nice knowing you..." As he approached the curve, something didn't seem right, he felt....hope.. And before he could even realize what the feeling was, the speed on his cart opened a portal, a new dimension in his reality and as the cart hit the scattered rocks, he flew off and through a black hole, sucked in instantly, painlessly. he was teleported into a red sky, wearing an open parachute. Still yelling in fear, he looked around with no understanding, floating calmly in a sea of red, he couldn't see the ground, a plane sped by and caught him in the air, cutting his parachute strings, landing on his ass on a steel floor. A beautiful woman held her arm out to him, still living in his here and now, Peter thought he was seeing an angel, a perfect angel in a purple flannel shirt. She helped Peter up to his feet and gave him a big, tight hug. Peter felt warm, he felt that feeling of hope he felt right before he thought he was going to die, except this time, he knew what the feeling was. "W-w-what's your n-name?" Peter was still a bit shooken up from this strange journey, "my name is Hope!" Peter smiled.. Something he forgot that he could do..

Science and Art

"Muahahahaha!!!" Peter was a mad man, a scientist but at the same time an artist, he saw things nobody could see, he could understand things that shouldn't be understood, he created theories and ideas and brought his inventions to life. His power was immense! But he had no will to use it, he had no need to. He used it in vain, he used it selfishly, for his own pleasure, and for the pleasure of those who cared to pay attention. Peter was neither man, nor woman, he was not boy or girl, he was Peter, he was not human, he detested those beings. Peter was a messenger, delivering wisdom from his kingdom for all to cherish and appreciate. He was an underdog and underdogs never win. Peter can never die, he is in all of us, and whether he is on this planet or the next, he will always be in your memories, in your thoughts, in your heart and soul, he's in your bones and you can't get rid of him. He could hear the trees speaking, the wind whispering, the sun shouting and the moon serenading. He only did as he was told, you could never behold him, he is nothing and everything, here and there, now and then, I am Peter, and so are you. He dreams of life in another dimension, a perspective that he cannot mention, you wouldn't get it. His brothers are electrons, his sisters are neutrons, and his parents, well, they are the nucleous. Peter is a master of his trade, thinking of everything until it fades, until it's abolished, erased.. You can try to be like him, but you will fail. "Only one thing is certain..." He commenced, but a loud roar of thunder came over his voice, annihalating his sound waves.

New Life

Like an old conversation, Peter sat idly in the corner of his warehouse, smoke getting in his eyes, there was no wind flow, it was as dead as a cemetery.. He kept replaying the scenario in his head, until it was monotonous and insignificant. He thought about it so much, that his mind just went black and he forgot about it, his heart was cold, almost dead, he couldn't feel emotion, just the beat that kept him alive and breathing. His heart had become useless, he never listened to it anyways. Peter believed he had seen the light at the end of the tunnel, the opening that would allow him to intake all of life's beautiful sunshine, but it was only a lamp, a small reminder of light that he could never see, heat he could never feel. He looked at it for a brief moment, and before he could look away in disgust, it burned out and left Peter blinded in his own darkness, his own pity. His eyes became accustomed to the void again shortly after and he laughed, he walked on and laughed, he kept laughing like someone had whispered a dirty joke to him, he continued to laugh as he presumed on his dark, lonely journey to hell. He laughed as he thought about the ridiculous lamp that burned out, he laughed at all the people that he thought were his friends, he laughed until his eyes began to tear, and his pity, his grief, his solitude, turned to bliss, transformed into a blended cocktail of bitter cold darkness, into nothing. Peter was back to normal, he was himself again, a solitary man, looking for something he cannot see. But this time, it was life changing, he had a better idea of things, he was closer to understanding what he needed, what he didn't need. He had a new strength, a new hope, a new emotion that he could not feel before, a stronger hate and a better reason to stay away from people he didn't like, he had a new identity, a darker image. "This is a new life" he stated triumphantly, and marched on down the tunnel with a new confidence. 

Freedom

"You call yourself a hero? You call yourself a man!?!?" He shouted angrily at the ground, his fists trembling in anger.. a man stood before Peter, a bit taller, with more muscle mass, dressed in a military suit. "You ungrateful fuck! You can't even appreciate your own family, you mistreat women, you're dirty, cheating, lying scum! How can you be grateful for your country if you can't even be grateful for your very own life.. Your own son, a loving woman.." Peters face turned red, the military man looked at him frustrated, he couldn't understand what Peter was saying, like he spoke a different language. "You're a piece of shit!!! I'm ashamed to know that you serve our country, I'm ashamed that you are part of the army that is supposed to defend us.. a dirty rag, I can't even use you to dry my dishes, how can I expect you to protect my freedom, how can I trust you to care? You'd run at the site of danger!" Peters vains bulged, his eyes were about to pop out of their sockets, his hair nearly caught on fire.. The military man stared, fell to his knees and cried as though he'd seen the devil himself. Peters fury only grew, his fists got tighter, his nails dug into his palms, droplets of blood trickled down to the ground. He put his fists over the mans head and let the blood drip down his face, the man fainted... Peter grabbed a shovel and dug a 6 foot hole, wide enough for a car to fit. It calmed his rage a bit. but the thought of... Her... Well it was bittersweet.. She made all his problems seem smaller, insignificant, but it made other problems MUCH bigger.. He dragged the fainted man and dropped him into the vast hole, proceeded to cover it. He heard faint cries, but ignored them, he continued filling the gaping hole in the ground, he was in a trance, a spell.. "That'll teach him.." 

Learn to Love

Peter walked to the edge of the dock, it was about 3 blocks long but didn't reach the center of the lake. He stared out at the setting sun.. Wishing he could live that exact moment for eternity. A time of peace, where light meets darkness and the colors begin to blend into a mellow coolness. A time when armies retreat and cowards release, when insomniacs wake, and early birds fly back home. When lovers kiss, and enemies collide. When lunatics, like Peter, sit in amazement at the perfect moment that we all simultaneously adore the true beauty of this world. Somewhere, in some dimension, on another level, another reality, we are all brought together.. The moon was out early, watching its dear old friend disappear from our sight, it rejoiced, and began to show its light more clearly, the sky was empty but our big silver rock. Peter watched the last few rays of light create a purply pink hue, like some kind of priceless portrait, except this was better, this was more then just a thousand words, this was all the words in the world, this was more then words, it was breathtaking, and it made Peter angry to think about all the ignorant people who don't take a minute to enjoy it.. To learn to appreciate it, to be thankful that we have the capacity of understanding. But he wasn't trying to change the world, he wished he could, but he couldn't even make himself believe that. The lake darkened, and expanded, the platinum light that shined accross it seemed to have made it more respectable, more vast then any universe you could ever imagine... A long streak of pale yellow stretched accross, Peter could not see where it ended. "I guess it never does end" he concluded "there will always be someone else who sees it, just like me" 

The Beach

The cold breeze tickled his ear, there was a storm at a distance, above the ocean. A lone ship sailed through the rains. A few drops hit peters face, telling him he was still there (His soul forgets that it's still caged). He smiled and looked back out at this magnificent creature of blue, raging waves. The tide rolled in and soaked peters sick feet, the cold was bitter at first, Peter squirmed. The tide slipped away, leaving Peter cold and lonely. A brother tide swept in, quick, painless. Peter's feet were warm again, the cold water was sweetened, he missed it! He stepped in deeper, his shins were getting wet. He walked along the shore and kicked water into the air. "Look ma' I'm a water bender!" He mocked himself for being so normal.. The moon began to show, the storm cloud passed, illuminating the water, shining breathlessly on the rough surface. He's seen this many, many times, countless in fact, but no matter the circumstances, Peter will always see it the same, it always amazed him, he gazed.. Another cloud came by, the silver desert turned to a graveyard. "Sometimes the biggest things, become the smallest ones.."

POM

"Finally......" He let out with a long, relaxing sigh. He finally had some time to sit and think. Think so much that in reality... He was thinking of nothing. He stood up from his zebra, and looked at his shoes. He didn't feel his feet. "Bad moon rising!" he jumped and looked around. "Who's here?!" Peter yelled! He ran to his door, swung it open with cool ease, stood outside and gazed up at the stars.. The moon was full... "The depths of reality are non existent" he shook his head, looked down to the horizon. "To every up, there is down, to every good there is bad.." He looked both ways, hoping to see life. "The inbetween realm, of here, of now, of then, and there. This is the present moment" Peter felt ashamed.. What was he expecting..just being vain, questioning the dark. "Forgive me for what I am! A leech. Sucking your life out! Forgive me!" He fell to his knees, the ground was moist, soft. He put his face in his hands... total darkness..

Hannahbanána,'man

"Hip hip hooray!

It's Peter Paray!"

Good thing that's out of the way, he looked up at the sky, gazing at the moon, it was really just a grain, the particles. "It all looks the same!.." There was no way he could express it, "it was insane!" He danced in circles, there was no fire, just the one on his cigarette. He made fog appear, his void was clear, it was present to him, for the new year! There was not much to it. He began to dream! 

Good News For People Who Love Bad News

Peter hates good news.. He hates when things go the way he wants. In his head he is just being disappointed. Good news only makes him feel good for a few hours, then the feeling is over, and it's almost like nothing happened. Peter prefers bad new, it brings him pain, grief, depression, and that lasts a whole lifetime. He likes things that last, he likes things that never end. Like a figure 8. He's so used to getting bad news and feeling like shit that any kind of bad news is good for him. Good news only reminds him of what being happy is like and makes him feel worse. "I don't deserve happiness, I don't deserve anything, I deserve to be alone" and he is. He pushes people away, pushes them over cliffs and watches them fall (they have parachutes ofcourse) he stands at the top of the mountain, like a king, no one can touch him!