Saturday, November 22, 2003
RECOIL
Crack the black wall,
Smash the barrier
Empty hands pull titanic weights
But strain…
Vain dreams shut off from the world
And tears held back from overflowing lids.
Love lost, Love found…
… Love lost once more
The endless labor of Déja-vu,
Never growing tired from
Laughing at whomever he ensnared
The hand that touches the
Cold gray skin,
Icy as the arctic wind,
Freezes in a heartbeat…
It burns from the frigid surface
And shivers relentlessly
Fists clench and fingers grow taught
As every breath inhaled is
Slowly released,
Savoring its sweetness
The heart beats with fury
As emptiness fills up
Every nerve inside
Shaking, as drops of
Sweat run through pores
And trickle down the spine
Sending chills of nothingness
Draw in the strength of
A thousand wailing souls
Burning in agony and despair…
One flick, and the nightmare will end…
… The hand recoils
The canvas of life is smeared
With the crimson of the sun
Smash the barrier
Empty hands pull titanic weights
But strain…
Vain dreams shut off from the world
And tears held back from overflowing lids.
Love lost, Love found…
… Love lost once more
The endless labor of Déja-vu,
Never growing tired from
Laughing at whomever he ensnared
The hand that touches the
Cold gray skin,
Icy as the arctic wind,
Freezes in a heartbeat…
It burns from the frigid surface
And shivers relentlessly
Fists clench and fingers grow taught
As every breath inhaled is
Slowly released,
Savoring its sweetness
The heart beats with fury
As emptiness fills up
Every nerve inside
Shaking, as drops of
Sweat run through pores
And trickle down the spine
Sending chills of nothingness
Draw in the strength of
A thousand wailing souls
Burning in agony and despair…
One flick, and the nightmare will end…
… The hand recoils
The canvas of life is smeared
With the crimson of the sun
Thursday, November 20, 2003
7 Minutes
Michael stood there, in front of a door, clutching what appeared to be something wrapped in fancy paper, soaked by the rain that poured behind him. And it seemed like it wasn't just the package that got wet. He was soaking from head to toe. His toes sloshing inside flooded shoes, mud spattered on his new pair of pants, his shirt was pressed onto his shivering torso, and his dark hair was drenched and flattened upon his head. He glanced at his watch, seven fifty-three, and wondered how he looked like and wondered how the person in the house would react upon seeing him. He felt like his courage was failing, like it did countless times before when he least expected it to. He just wanted to walk away and go home, have a cup of steaming chocolate and sleep in his warm bed.
But he can't. Not when he's come this far, no way. Not after being drenched by the summer rain, no way. His efforts would not have taken him this far just for him to turn around and leave, no way. He's not leaving.
But still, he felt like a statue, unable to move, helpless from the harsh environment it is in. Fear was in front of him and sanctuary behind. He could very well go home and stop this madness but he knew that this moment would forever haunt him until it was solved. He knew this from the hundreds of nightmares he had, the countless times he woke up in the dark with his heart pounding and sweat pouring from his pores. The endless screams that echoed in his mind.
He just had to do it; just one small step and fate will guide him from then. He just had to lift his hand and press the small button beside the doorpost. One press and it would all be over. But he had tried to do it five times already, and each time he would come close in doing it, he would pull his hand back and hesitate. A thousand theories would run around his head as to what would happen when he did. He just couldn't bear the thoughts.
He ran his fingers through his still-wet hair. He peeked at his watch. It's only been three minutes and he still hasn't decided whether he would press that button or not. Three minutes, he thought, time must be creeping very, very slowly tonight. It's just too difficult to do it. He can't. He's too scared to do it.
A shiver ran up his spine and he knew it was not because of the cold. It was the shiver of a coward, a puny person who was being controlled by time and fate. History would repeat itself and he would immerse himself again and again in self-pity. The thought of it this time disgusted him. He knew that he could do better. Yes, he could be a better man. Just this one small step and it would be all over. He reached for the button slowly, like it was a very delicate object that would collapse when pressed too hard. His hand was shaking as he extended his index finger. Almost there...
The window beside him flooded with light. Startled, he pulled back his hand, moments from pressing the button of fate. His solemn and serious face lightened up. Curious, he took a small peek inside the window, no harm in taking a peek right?
'Ding-dong,' the doorbell sounded.
Katie pulled on a robe and walked towards the door. She reached for the doorknob and opened it. Nobody was in front of the door but she could see the silhouette of a man walking slowly down the sidewalk. She looked down and saw something wrapped in fancy paper, a dozen roses, her favorite kind, those with thorn-less stems and lavender petals. She smiled, picked them up and closed the door.
Someone embraced her from behind and she said, "Johnny, how sweet, you shouldn't have!"
"Shouldn't have what?" Johnny replied.
"Shouldn't have had that person deliver these roses in this weather," she turned around and bussed him on the lips.
"But I didn't do it, honestly," Johnny kissed her back.
She moved back, "Then who did?"
"I have no idea, but you are with me and this is our night. Who cares about the roses?" Johnny looked deeply into her eyes and they both smiled. He lifted her, carried her in his arms, and then swished her off to paradise.
The bouquet of roses fell from her hand as the grandfather clock chimed eight o'clock. A torn piece of paper was hidden between the roses, scribbled in hasty handwriting Katie would have easily recognized, written with a fountain pen...
I love you Katie...
Drops of water from the roses' petals fell on the note...
But he can't. Not when he's come this far, no way. Not after being drenched by the summer rain, no way. His efforts would not have taken him this far just for him to turn around and leave, no way. He's not leaving.
But still, he felt like a statue, unable to move, helpless from the harsh environment it is in. Fear was in front of him and sanctuary behind. He could very well go home and stop this madness but he knew that this moment would forever haunt him until it was solved. He knew this from the hundreds of nightmares he had, the countless times he woke up in the dark with his heart pounding and sweat pouring from his pores. The endless screams that echoed in his mind.
He just had to do it; just one small step and fate will guide him from then. He just had to lift his hand and press the small button beside the doorpost. One press and it would all be over. But he had tried to do it five times already, and each time he would come close in doing it, he would pull his hand back and hesitate. A thousand theories would run around his head as to what would happen when he did. He just couldn't bear the thoughts.
He ran his fingers through his still-wet hair. He peeked at his watch. It's only been three minutes and he still hasn't decided whether he would press that button or not. Three minutes, he thought, time must be creeping very, very slowly tonight. It's just too difficult to do it. He can't. He's too scared to do it.
A shiver ran up his spine and he knew it was not because of the cold. It was the shiver of a coward, a puny person who was being controlled by time and fate. History would repeat itself and he would immerse himself again and again in self-pity. The thought of it this time disgusted him. He knew that he could do better. Yes, he could be a better man. Just this one small step and it would be all over. He reached for the button slowly, like it was a very delicate object that would collapse when pressed too hard. His hand was shaking as he extended his index finger. Almost there...
The window beside him flooded with light. Startled, he pulled back his hand, moments from pressing the button of fate. His solemn and serious face lightened up. Curious, he took a small peek inside the window, no harm in taking a peek right?
'Ding-dong,' the doorbell sounded.
Katie pulled on a robe and walked towards the door. She reached for the doorknob and opened it. Nobody was in front of the door but she could see the silhouette of a man walking slowly down the sidewalk. She looked down and saw something wrapped in fancy paper, a dozen roses, her favorite kind, those with thorn-less stems and lavender petals. She smiled, picked them up and closed the door.
Someone embraced her from behind and she said, "Johnny, how sweet, you shouldn't have!"
"Shouldn't have what?" Johnny replied.
"Shouldn't have had that person deliver these roses in this weather," she turned around and bussed him on the lips.
"But I didn't do it, honestly," Johnny kissed her back.
She moved back, "Then who did?"
"I have no idea, but you are with me and this is our night. Who cares about the roses?" Johnny looked deeply into her eyes and they both smiled. He lifted her, carried her in his arms, and then swished her off to paradise.
The bouquet of roses fell from her hand as the grandfather clock chimed eight o'clock. A torn piece of paper was hidden between the roses, scribbled in hasty handwriting Katie would have easily recognized, written with a fountain pen...
I love you Katie...
Drops of water from the roses' petals fell on the note...
