Author: Pelgris

Top 5 questions I really want an answer to on a date.

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1. What is the worst experience of your life? What is the story of it.

Why: Our experiences shape us and I’m rather a dark cat. If your life has been mostly sunny then there may be some compatibility issues.

2. What experience or experiences have been the best? What makes you feel at peace, happy?

Why: What we see as worthwhile and how we experience beauty is a part of our fundamental selves.

3. Do you like music? What do you like about it?

Why: If you don’t like music then we’re going to have issues. Music is a major part of who I am, I honestly have a hard time relating to someone who doesn’t like music or worse just sees it as background noise.

4. Do you like reading? What do you like about it?

Why: pretty much the same why as 3.

5. What types of art do you like? Why?

Why: Art reveals what we are passionate about.

Top 5 songs that get me moving

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  1. Armin Van Buuren: Ping Pong
  2. Aesthetic Perfection: Oh’ Gloria
  3. (redacted)
  4. Danny Breaks: In Her
  5. TAKENOBU: Shady Grove

Like a crescendo and a then a slow fall to quiescence.

Top 5 things to do if money was not an issue

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1 open a every day of the week private goth club, make it the anchor of every goth and industrial bands tour, open 24 hours a day

2. Open a dungeon and a members only dungeon. Invite Dom’s and Sub’s in for demonstrations and classes. 

3. Buy a radio station, staff it with the Cemetery Confessions people

4. Start a defense contractor business (thought it was gonna be all goth stuff, didn’t you)

5. Buy a few elections

This is all stuff I want, sure there are other things that I would do but they are boring and so standard they are not worth mentioning.

Drinks tonight?

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The frenetic shift as humanity gears up for one last throw of the dice. One last prayer to the gods of hedonistic delight. Otherwise known as Friday night happy hour.

The work week done and the salaryman, soft and pallid beneath his suit, drinks from Lethe’s waters in the form of cheap vodka dressed up in its father’s clothes. Martini glasses, olives and onions making that Stolichnaya beautiful to weary eternally hopeful eyes.

A thrum fills the air with people throwing out energy, a little too loud, a little too free. Crutch in one hand and a all too brittle smile in the other. Tonight’s the night to have fun or lay weeping in the gutter. Caution fluttering in the wind.

Bound for pleasure, bound to forget, shackled into lives we take this escape deeper into the grave. So happy to be let loose that we slip the cuffs back on in the morning. The crushing weight of a society that neither knows nor cares. Held together by people dreaming in a future that’s long dead.

Where were you

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Where was I? I was leaving my house going to work after the first plane hit. I went to work, people were watching the news on big screens setup for this purpose. I kept working.

This may seem cold to you. And looking back now, I see that it was. But at the time, I had a job to do and I did it. I wasn’t in a position to do anything about it. I didn’t know anyone in the Towers or the planes. So I didn’t feel any personal response. As to people attacking the USA. Given the information at the time, I viewed it as inevitable. I did not expect the scale.

As to the loss of human life, well I can’t say anything that doesn’t make me sound callous. The loss of life is always a tragedy. Each life cut short, cut short of the potential a full life may bring. But I have no feelings on the matter. Just regret at the loss.

So that is where I was. A cold, callous man doing a job he thought important but which turned out to not be. Thank the Gods that man is dead.

Monsters

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I’m attracted to the damaged ones. The broken people. When I am with them, I try to fill them with love and beauty. Give them space to grow and be free. But it is not altruism that attracts me. It is like blood on the water.

And much as I struggle against my darker desires, I am a wolf. So the tattered innocence, the broken virtue, the lied to, the betrayed, they draw me near. I can see into the broken places and I desire to cuddle up next to them.

It is the monster in my heart. One I would rather die than allow freedom. I’ve caged it round with rules and obligations. Made it serve me. Hopefully it is enough.

Vows of a drowning man

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I’m sure your body is beautiful. But I’m looking at your eyes. Your eyes are the window to your soul. They reflect the world around you. I want nothing more than to see them crinkle with a smile when they see me.

The body is a playground and, believe me, we will play. Your joy, your laughter, your sobs, your tears, the soft thoughts and harsh words. These all are seated in your eyes, issued forth from lips and tongue, breathe over vocal cords. Churned forth in the maelstrom of your mind.

I may like the way you move, the outfit you wear. The form of your body. But I reserve my love for the parts that make up your soul. Whisper your words, pierce me with eyes, show me your world.

I am…

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I am the darkness that follows the light
The Night that swallows the day
The profane whisper that drinks down sacred exhalation

I am the shadow that extends its hand
The crack of the whip that brings pleasure
The trailing fire that wakes the timid

I am the sound scritching against your window
The terror that burrows deep
The truth at the heart of your fears

I am the step that takes you deeper
The rushing wind that heralds the fall
The snap of wings, caught air before crash

I am the winter that murders the sun
The frost that quiets the fire
The fade that swallows the world

And still…

I am not the evil that you are.

Sometimes…

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Sometimes, there are no good choices. Sometimes you must do what is necessary no matter the personal cost.  It is in these instances where the true value of your character is revealed.  Do you have what it takes to take the correct step, even if it costs everything?
Let’s see.

The roads we travel

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An unbusy street side by side with a busy one forgotten. Its way sits unused; lined with shops that look out onto it but never use it.

Abandoned by its makers it sees the brother he was seperated from, wild and free. They zoom along his siblings wide lanes, raucous laughter and people spilling out onto his sidewalks.

His life whirs on stagnant day by day. Unnoticed and uncared for he waits. Waits to be useful, to be loved.

The girl skips down the hidden street in the rain. It’s not as fast or as well traveled as its brethren but it is quiet and she can see into the secret backs of the shops. The people in the secret shops down the hidden street watch over and wave to the girl. She loves this hidden street, so short but so full of life. It is the friend she never looked for. The love she’ll always cherish.