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!