Bit of mustard, spot of mutton

Those seconds we spend
Lost in the shadows of knowing
The pain of tomorrow
Those waves of future eroding the shore of now
Ocean depositing sand
Taking away is
Leaving might be
No way forward to a future
All roads obscured
Dancing on turned ankles
Entangled in webs
Cutting free for the fall
No safety but for the missing touch of hand
Absent smiles
Leaf flies
Not knowing its ending
But it soars

On borders, blossom or crumble

Sometimes the noise gets so loud that it becomes silence
And the hole inside yawns wide
You are looking down into this abyss
While you are falling too
And the only thought
The only scream
Is silent
Open your mouth
Throat aching
Scream soundless
Jaw burning and stretched
And still
The empty consumes a bit more
And all you can do is drown a little bit
And you gasp trying to breathe but it’s not air you need
You can’t think
And gods help you if you start looking outside
But you do
And we all have our drugs
Sex or loss of control
Dissolving minds in chemicals and hoping to wake up better
Hoping not to wake
The empty doesn’t leave
It’s just held at bay by sensation
It lurks out in the periphery
We watch it as we lose ourselves in the dissolving of self
Later we wake
Maybe the empty is gone
Can’t even remember it was there
Dangerous
The outside killed the inside
The lie of the alluring
But it wakes from its stupor
We try again and again
Until nothing keeps it away
Eroding our will
Sometimes that’s the point of ending
Where just the screaming to stop becomes audible and that drop, that gunshot, that dose you know is too much…
But sometimes
something we do fills the hole
Just a bit
But enough
…..
And we claw our way back
But that hole
That grinning silence
It’s not gone
But now
We have a shovel
And maybe that is enough

Our secrets seem small until we see friends fleeing from the sound of their truth

Secrets deepen the longer they are held
Each one pill sized
Swallowed
Hidden from view
Left to bloom and grow
Working their way through limbs
Sapping strength
Choking heart
Catching tongue
And always the hesitation
To say what was
What you tell no one
Lest they scoff and say not real
Not you
The image before you cannot be who the festered darkness says you were
You know your secrets to be unpalatable
To be outrageous and impossible
To be true and heavy
Lead weights keeping you from the last mile
Last steps before true connection
Instead tending an inner garden of night blooming flowers
Each deadly and poisonous
What was done cannot be undone
Then what good will speaking do

Seeing the dance, body unable, mind knows the steps

Urgency stretches out
Taffy pulled
Lapse slow into crouch
Sway back reaching for hands just out of reach
Leap and swirl frenetic grace
Fall prone
Hands explore exposure
Ankles lifting
Marionette rising to feet
Hands flash across torso
Eyes drawing to the flutter of fingers
Twist
Fall to knees
Pound against stone
Release from this imprisonment of flesh
Fire sway looking into heart flame
Hands climbing ladders
Legs unmoving
Slowly fading hearts beating
Slower and slower
Transition
Slow rise inch by inch
Beat back the night
Step reaching
Down
Twist
Leap and swirl
point
Counterpoint
Eyes meeting across stage waiting for that moment when
Inevitable stop
Facing each other
Push spin away
Rushing of others lost in the frenzy of flesh
Looking for the lost pieces
Torn across time
Frantic
Until all is empty

The solubility of tears

I bear an unfortunate truth. Namely that I cannot forget people or places. Things I’ve read or watched but not physically experienced are harder to retain.
But people and place and and what I was feeling at those intersections, they are always with me. For good or for ill. I envy people who can walk away. Who can put people in the rear view and mostly not look back. Or let go.

I can only work through the situation. Examining all the angles, understanding my place in events and relationships. And still left to wonder, because the picture is never complete. I can never see their side.

So while I can keep going forward. Because there is no other real choice. I can never forget. And those I’ve declared mine. Those I’ve said are my person. I can never forget. Nor leave behind, if it is in my power and is not against their interest to do so.

But still, the memories pile up, some I shoulder alone and others I have help carrying. But all are there, indelible and immutable.

Memories…the burden no one thinks is one

Thin lines of blood crisscross the heart

Sometimes I wake up with all the pain of loss in my heart
My mind rushing to consciousness through a gauntlet of each person I’ve loved who have died or left or are so distant that any hope of us remains in the realm of dreams that never were

I wake in this tearing agony as if my dreams were filled with my loves and waking is the cutting blade ripping me open

I wake like this and go to work
Where people don’t know the wonderful people who I’ve carved myself up, open to
Where explaining even a tenth of what I feel would earn at best pity and most likely contempt

And as weary as I grow of this pain, those who care must read my torment and have nothing else to say. All the words have been said. All the sympathy given. And we are all left hollow and we are all stuck on the fringes of understanding. Each of us a world alone.

I stay away, awake as long as I can. The torment of staying away from sleep and the comforts of not thinking. Stay awake to keep from that moment of wake

Still, in dreams we are together. Different me’s, different you’s; watching their lives unfold
Happy that somewhere we are found
Until that moment when again, all is lost

A drop with wings unfurled is no guarantee of flight

Wind
Gentle lover
Caresses my skin
Cold dreams
Distant rumble
Frenzy clicks and clatters
Torn out by the root
I fly
Drift and tumble
Each ungentle touch breaking me
Moving me further
Each shift a step forward
Flight in the maelstrom
Glory
…….
Subsides
Discarded by the road
Having drifted
No further than sight
Of home

Nightmares are also dreams Part 22-interlude

Actionable intel has a short shelf life. The raid group is set up in the surrounding area outside one of the Circles primary collection points. It’s a long haul truck stop. It’s both the first stop on the road to hell and a step deeper into misery.

That the snatch team has been missing for a few hours now and it can be expected that the news of this has begun to filter out through the network makes this a potentially dangerous situation.

The forward team scurries from truck to truck checking each against our manifest. No truck will be leaving unsearched but these specific ones have been identified as either belonging to a circle member or to one of their customers.

The radio squawks twice indicating all teams are go.

The men and women in black tactical gear stream to their predetermined positions. The sound of cloth against cloth nearly eclipsed by the soft wind.

The entry team tosses a flashbang in through the door and wait 3 seconds to enter. The flash of light serves as the signal for the team’s to lock down the trucks and the primary team enters the truck stop. Presumably some of these people are innocent but the operations order calls for the remediation of any hostile actions to be dealt with harshly.

The soft sounds of hushed gunfire and muzzle flash indicates some have chosen to fight.

The trucks are taken without incident. Two victims recovered and two hostile silenced.

The persons in the stop are taken into custody and their identities are confirmed. We match driver to truck then search each truck with each driver. We find for are being used for trafficking and take the drivers and helpers into custody.

The victims we take to the protected zone and ship for treatment and rehabilitation.

We search the other trucks and find evidence that two were there for Trans-shipments. Those drivers are taken in as well. The rest are let go after the teams exfil.

All told 3 hostiles dead, 100 victims recovered, and the next link in the chain uncovered. The management of the truck shop has been identified and we will be visiting them soon. For the rest we have their ledgers and computers.

—End report

Fun fact?

Fun fact about me: I was going to another room to read my book and I went to plug my phone in for charging. I wasn’t going to use it, I was going to read. But then I thought, “But what if I get a idea, how will I write it down?” So, here I am writing down a little story about needing to be able to write things down instead of reading my book. #writerslife