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23 August 2010 @ 09:27 pm
I do not wish you harm this night
As you walk through the wood
But know my nature
Hear my plight
Do go home like you know you should

One should not dwell
As young as you
Where creatures like me roam
Your mother will not know of how
Your flesh I make my own

Those sisters
They will suffer too
If they come here to play
I cannot hide from their young eyes
How I am this way

Please skitter off
You should go home
This is no place for you
Or bits of flesh will from me hang
Bloody, veined, and blue
Headphone Magic:: The Rita
10 August 2010 @ 12:39 am
"Oh, this is MIster Tuttlebug." I held up the doll, it more resembling a battered rabbit/girl/fish than any sort of insect. "Kind of ugly, but Penny likes it."

Alicia smiled, her eyes looking confused.

"Why is he wearing a dress?"

"Because he's everything." I answered, setting him back down in my lap so I could finish sewing up the rip in his belly. "Her words, not mine." I added. "Actually, he's usually naked, but we're seeing a movie tonight. Quite the occasion."

"Ah." There was a pause. "What movie?"

"The one with the, uh...spiders?"

"Oh, I see." She said. Alicia smiled as I glanced up at her over my glasses, before looking down again to re-thread my needle. The clock over the door ticked away the seconds that seemed to be growing longer with every breath I took. Alicia looked around the small kitchen. She then folded her hands on her lap. "I don't suppose you've been here long?"


"I mean..." She waved her hand in the direction of the living room. It was mostly empty, the lone piece occupying that space being an old TV.

"We're not really furniture people." I said flatly.

How are we today?: amusedamused
08 August 2010 @ 11:16 pm
A few short snippets that never evolved into anything yet I kinda like anyway.


"My mother was 15 when that train derailed off of the Sarrabana tracks. She wasn't in the main mess of things, really; she was in this small general store buying flour when part of the car crashed through the wall and killed nearly half the people there. She was bruised, cut up a bit in places but it was nothing compared to what happened to most others. Bone through skin, crushed skulls...this one man had one of his eyes popped partially out of it's socket. She said he opened and closed his mouth a few times. Probably wasn't alive enough to scream.
Horrible stuff, but nothing that couldn't be shaken off physically within a week or so as far as she went. She told me, though, that things like that. Like that quiet horror of realization when you know you just narrowly avoided being smashed by a train. Or any horror of the like for that matter. She said it fractures you. Not the world, just you. There's a part of you always...lost, in that moment. Part of you never escapes.
...Used to think she was being dramatic."


Too much, they said. Too much and with little purpose.
Do you think I am lost with those who hold up the sun?
I tell you now, and I will repeat if need be: that I belong in the water. My soul is one with the deep shadows where monsters pass as lights in the never ending dark.


When I think of Heaven I think of my front yard. I've always pictured that when I die I will find myself there in the height of Summer, with the trees full of their dark green leaves. I picture you pulling your faded blue wagon with our stuffed animals in the back, just like you did when we were friends.

I think that's because I can't remember a time when I was happier, when I felt ok and thought that everything was going to be ok. You were the first person I loved with this deep, undescribable glow that I have yet to feel again. Sometimes I think I could hate you for it. Never can, though.

You made me want to be nine forever.
How are we today?: blahblah
04 August 2010 @ 06:20 pm
Life has been pretty strange. If not a bit quixotic. Hopefully things will get rolling pretty soon. I do more than write. So, that will probably making an appearance also.

We shall see. I hope for the best.
How are we today?: happyhappy
Headphone Magic:: How it's gonna be- Third eye blind
18 March 2010 @ 02:26 am
I imagine you in silence, colorless
The slow motion of my memory fading in and out
As though you are only a dream

It is not this that compels me to know you
There is nothing here not dulled by the spiral in my head

When my arms are around you we will not occupy a single space
We will still be ourselves,
Two people

Me, though?

Being folded in on myself as I am
Will not permit the hope of upraised eyes
Or even the sunrise of open hands

I will continue to be...
And let the open sore of my heart beat red down to my ankles
12 March 2010 @ 03:20 am
"He's been out here for a long time. He might try to lick your face."

I frowned. Harvey saw this and sighed.

"Just...don't worry about it too much. And don't push him off you. Seriously, he's a little non...personlike." He turned his full attention back to the road. "You'll see."

Really? I had been beginning to question my strange turn of events. The world seemed to be changing. Not so much like things really changing. But...like a change of perception. I was becoming aware of how little I took notice of other people. Like back at the supermarket. I've always been hyper-aware of other people.

It wasn't the noise this time. This wasn't me just being, as my sisters had said: 'difficult'. It was like something in my head was blurring others from my view of this world. The only people that were clear to me...well, it was only Harvey, so far that was.

I rolled down the window, felling the full blast of the early summer wind. The smell of pine was thick in the air. By the look of it (and the bumpyness of the road) it appeared we were pretty far off from the highway. It wasn't summer-like enough for a full chorus of crickets. Still, I was expecting more noises from the night.

My static wore off a bit as Harvey slowed the car into a rest stop. Although the lights were on there was a look of abandonment to it. It looked like the place was holding itself up out of sheer stubbornness, the windows glaring at us purposefully. The bathroom doors were missing, propped up like a barracade against the main door to the map area. The lights flickered. Harvey looked over at me and smiled.

"I think this is right." He said, unbuckling himself. I did the same and got myself out of the car. Harvey beckoned me over and I followed him away from the stop, into the woods.
18 September 2009 @ 12:16 pm
My joints creak of oak
My head’s full of foam
I’ve been put together strangely
Yet sewn with the care of a treasured one

You whisper to me
(Though I cannot return it)
Talk, of things I’ve never seen
Wire me up with words woven
Through wood-calloused fingers

You confuse me
I, being spare parts
Only know spare things

Only know you, really

And I,
Jointed as I am
Have not the grace to reach out to you
Where are we today?: dorm
18 September 2009 @ 12:23 am
When I am standing upon these foreign shores
Some distant lifetime from now
Knowing…feeling...some sort of absence
That un-nameable pain curled somewhere inside me
Or wake to find something gone that in that existence I never had to begin with
A smell, a habit…a smile from a face I know I’ve never seen
I’ll curl on my side and know emptiness

And you will feel the same
17 September 2009 @ 06:13 pm
I cannot.

I cannot call myself Simon anymore. Not here. I'm pretty sure that's why I was so sick.
And I have to take back what I said earlier, about nothing having happened on this site where the complex is. I mean...I keep thinking. I think back to how things, or even people, get haunted. Maybe something as insignificant as a conversation can keep a place in a state of unease even after the speakers are dead and gone.

But that's the nature of curses, right?

If it wasn't a curse...?

I have no way of knowing why this place is the way it is. It doesn't matter. I know know why I was sick.

One cannot call oneself god, or even the devil, in a church.
Headphone Magic:: Silent Hill 4 soundtrack-Akira Yamaoka
03 September 2009 @ 11:02 pm
Apology: the tenses are all over the place...but I don't know what I want them to be yet. And no spellcheck. I'm tossing it up here because I don't know what to do with it yet. Just something I jotted down before heading out.

I'd been bleeding myself into the sink on the night the lady above us died. Truth be told, nobody noticed until a week later. But looking back I should have recogniced that seeping sensation that stained the ceilling of the green-tiled kitchen in my mind. Or noticed how the lone light over the sink seemed to make my arms seem more lifeless than usual.

In any case, a week passed and Jack ends up in my doorway telling me about the dead woman. He raises his eyebrows about my lack of surprise and proceeds to tell me about some practices in Japan. I think it had something to do with not sleeping in rooms below where the dead are. I can't be sure. In the end he raids my fridge and leaves, leaving me feeling the uneasiness of the light on my skin.

The next day Sheila from next door brings me some cookies, claiming she made too many for herself. I smile. She blushes. And I think for a moment to invite her in.

This doesn't happen.

Her eyes sink back into her head until they dissapear and all of her teeth fall out.

Later on, after Jack had forced me to eat a sandwich, I related this to him. He tells me I'm crazy. I frown and gaze up at the off-white of my ceilling, trying to think of a rebuttle to that that I haven't said before. Someone smiles, but is isn't either of us.

A day after that I pull my rusty twin bed away from the walls. I can still feel the woman's death slowly seeping down my walls and it's starting to make me nervouse. Even when I walked to the lobby to retrieve my mail I could feel it in the distance...a blob of foggy black. And when I get back I debate going in. I can almost see it now and it makes my apartment look like some sort of tomb.

Shelia comes by later to ask me if I'm sick. Her nose is gone.

That afternoon I block off the door to my room and feed a bit of myself to the sink. I keep thinking if I can satiate the thing in the basement for now it won't be feeling eager to help the death in my walls spread to the others. On the side where I share a wall with Sheila it's the darkest. Sometimes when I look at it I see her face as a glossy-white reflection. If it gets any darker I get the feeling she'd be able to walk through.
Where are we today?: hell