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This is probably something most won’t care about, but I love my journal, and I bet others have similar feelings for their own :-). If you are one of the few who name their Journal too, what did you pick?

Mine, I call it Moe, i think it’s a great name for a journal (obviously). It reminds me of the guy you see in movies whom the main character sits next to at a bar or some random park bench, bus stop, whatever… and the main character starts talking about their troubles and so on, and unlike 99% of the population who would barge in with a story of their own to top the other or simply ignore the whiner outright, Moe sits quietly on his bar stool, steadily guzzles down pints of his favorite lager, several of which purchased by our lonely hero for the humble company provided, and Moe, he knows, He knows what works: just fucking listen.

Moe is a good friend.

The other day a good friend of mine approached me regarding an idea that he was very enthused about pursuing. So naturally, I was curious to see what it was that had him sending me three-page text messages containing what seemed to be a plot of some sort..

Well, he wants to create a devilishly haunting video game. One that will have the player quaking in their boots with each step they take. So to sum things up, he asked me to write the back-story for the game. Basically giving the characters some meaning and some information as to how they ended up in the position they are in during the game.  He gave me general guidance on how to write the intro and then essentially allowed me to have free reign.

So I thought it would be cool to post up our progress on my blog to get some exposure and potentially get some input from others who may have pointers or opinions on detail orientation etc. I hope you enjoy what we have so far! 🙂

P.J.- We were on the road again, Jane and I. Rebels with a cause; trying to find our own way through this frigid world we call “home” with nothing but the miserable hand we were both dealt to keep us moving. The night was pitch black, as if God forgot to pay the power bill and Zeus had no mercy for those afraid of the dark. No lightening, no stars; all on the night of a new moon. Just the rhythmic raindrops pelting my windshield and the sound of a bewildered jazz musician crooning his sorrows through the air-waves. Needless to say, I had been white-knuckling it all night.

Jane, was fast asleep in the passenger seat; lulled away by the smooth rhythm of Good Year tires gliding over a freshly paved road. Sweet, innocent Jane. She is all I have left in this world, and sometimes I feel as if I’ll never be strong enough to keep her safe. I look over and see her little hand cradling a picture of the family we used to have. The family that gave us everything they could, and asked for nothing in return.

Our mom, dad, our LIFE, all gone. Wiped out in the blink of an eye just weeks before. It happened on a family vacation. Apparently my mom, dad, the grandparents that haven’t succumbed to old age, and my best friend, Darryl were all going to surprise me with a visit on campus in Oregon. You know, the whole “familial-support” thing. I guess they really wanted to see me succeed, or they just wanted to drag me back home.

Alas, I couldn’t tell you even if I wanted to. Those answers –along with the only people in the world who cared for me– are lost in Rogue River after careening off the bridge in what was called a “freak-accident”. Maybe forever, or maybe until next week when the National Guard launches their State-Mandated search for the bodies. I hope they don’t find anything; maybe it’ll let Jane, hold on a little while longer.

I’m not holding out much hope though. It was a two-hundred and fifty-two foot drop (said the police report) to the bottom of a river that travels for miles with white water’s ranging from a babbling brook to a raging torrent; eventually dumping everything it consumes into the Pacific. It was a miracle that Jane was spared the horror in the first place, therefor I refuse to dwell on the specifics.

She is all I worry about now. My Aunt, Rose was in charge of caring for her during the Family’s visit. I guess Jane, had been having trouble coping with middle school. She didn’t make any friends, and the popular snobs tormented her to the point of retaliation. I thank God, every day since then; If she hadn’t punched the head Cheerleader’s lights out, I may have lost all sanity when the Sheriff’s department reported the nightmare that I am still trapped in. My parents forced her to stay home as a punishment. They said she would have to “wait ’till Christmas to see your big Brother”. Well, I guess Christmas has come early this year. God damn that jolly fat man. 

 

Love has no expiration date
yet you stamp one regardless
You mix the feeling with hate
And fail to keep it harnessed
Blame the one you love
Or dont love at all
Seems to be the way you run
Love in the shape of a gun
You shot me just for fun!

you run them into the ground
You push them then wonder “how?”
Now let me explain
Your love means nothing!
With you its just pain!

(A pain you must refrain)
(If you want to take a ride)

I tried to let you know
You never listened
Caught in your own thoughts
Well mine were on a mission
Still I’ll feel sorrow
For the next man you borrow
with your Green eyes, inviting thighs
Lips that could Make an angel try
We never stood a chance
Trapped in a false prophet trance

At least he wont worry long
you’ll toss em out when he “does you wrong”
Then its on to another
Maybe his FUCKING twin brother!
After all any man is good for “bang bang”
Even ones with the same name
you can testify to that
I’ll pick a name out of my hat!

Now dont get me wrong
Im no perfect soul, though
I’d still try to make you smile
In my mind you’re running wild
All has lead me down the path
To internal virulent wrath
None which can be overturned
When will you ever learn?!

Tell me yes or no
Did he really have to go?
yes or no?!
what affection have you shown?!
“None” is the answer we all know
Just incase I’ll ask the one you blow
On second thought, I’ll wait
Soon enough he will know!
When he curdles like the milk you throw
You know his time is over
When the words he speaks grow mold
Is it time you let him go?
Take initiative, and end this puppet show

 

I’d sell my soul to the devil just for a day when I don’t feel so hopeless and gray. If it meant I’d find a lover, I’ll sign the dotted line. Just take the pain away, if only for a day, and you can have my soul, to hell and damnation I’ll happily go. Just let me rest my lips, one last time, my final kiss, the fireworks, the heavenly bliss, before my final day. To hell and damnation! If it’s the only way.

This is something that I wrote for my creative writing class as an exercise in sensory detail. Now this is something that any writer can do and I promise you it will be a good relaxing exercise for those who feel their work may be lacking some detail to really tie everything together. Or you may just want to do it to kill some time and enjoy the scent of your favorite candle  while you write. In my opinion it really helps to keep your eyes closed when you write everything down because you really allow the scent of your chosen candle to transport you to an entirely new world. One you may have never visited before. Or one that you know like the back of your hand. Either way, I hope you all enjoy the passage 🙂

As I close my eyes, I sense a faint light in front of me. The source comes from a fluttering flame, attempting to find a balance in its chaotic existence; burning its wick without fear or choice of an inevitable end. I imagine the color of the glass enclosure; simulate for the hue of coconut pulp, and inside lays a molten wax of similar origin.  I am sure a factory in distant lands used some of the precious coconut meat to extract part of this fragrant bouquet gently massaging my olfactory receptors. The scent takes me back to a beach of an exotic locale as a motion picture plays behind  closed eyelids. I can feel the sand bursting between my toes with each step as I make my way out of the warm, translucent water. With each bound, I grow closer to an intoxicating aroma filled with fresh coconut –as mentioned -, pineapple and a slight citrus note here and there -a tangerine tree maybe?- at any rate it seems to be coming in and out of range with the ever-changing sea breeze. Back to reality as I open my eyes and see the white-glass candle sitting in front of me, still lit with determination. The sea-breeze turns out to be just the buffeting fan in my room. As I blow the flame away, it smolders and gives off its last remnants of the tropics as the emblazoned wick returns to its black, carbonized state. 

Since the Dexter series began in 2006, I was fascinated with the “Dark Passenger” concept and I wrote my own poem to reflect the battles I’ve had with my own “Dark Passenger”. Albeit without the murderous tendencies of Dexter in the actual series. I hope you all enjoy.

EDIT: In order to give credit when credit is due, I must also commend GlassJaw (Band) for inspiring me to write about my “Dark Passenger” in this light. If you listen to some of their music; you will see what I mean. 🙂

I’m dead you’re fed get out of my head!
How did you even get in?!
I was fine before you
Now I can never go back

You took the first shot
Injected your poison with urgency
My limbs they seize
Lips speaking of sin
Dark passenger resurrection 

(I was fine, now I pine my time)
(pine it away with a quick line)
(Take my tequilla with no lime)
(This time is mine to pine)
(for whatever time is left of mine)

This ghost I thought was dead
Waits to claim a bounty on my head
Hoofing and snarling
demands to take the reigns
This dark passenger
Returns in your name

Dont you see what you have done?!
You sing the song unsung
Now my soul is taken by another
A soul much darker than your mothers
It laughs at my attempts to pursuade
I try as my memories fade
trapped with one way out
It begs me to never doubt
“This is for the best”
“please take your last breath”
Do you hear Its words?!
“This is for the best!”
The fear it grows
“Take your last breath!”
of dying alone
“It was for the best”
Now my head is laid to rest…

Years have gone by since I needed so bad to let go

My thoughts racing as I drive my ass home

I cant believe its been another night with you blown

I try to turn to my words while being confused by your own

(still cant get this shit straight)

I turned to the one thing always on my side (a puff then a rip… OH ease my mind)

Not much else to do when you are immune to my charm

And getting close to you is like leaping the great wall

An impossible feat; at least I’d give it my all

Yet here I am with my tail between my legs, cutting my losses and limping home

(feeling the need to be so numb, so gone, so blown)

Oh what a beautiful night with a shooting star so bright.

Only to find your face plaguing my mind

I suppose a wish would still make this moment right

A first chance? A second chance? Or to not give a shit anymore?

Option three is tempting, but I’ll wish for a fourth

This star came as a surprise, the same way you came into my life

And every time you come back, you leave without a goodbye

But do you ever think about your actions?

Or the consequences that will ensue?

I do every night when my thoughts find their way to you

But do your thing and push them away, that’s your chosen way

(Take a puff, mind at ease. why does thinking of you make me crazy?!)

 

 

I can’t ignore, the smile you wore.

It breaks the sky

Into a blue heaven every time,

Even if only in my mind.

I know you can’t be here tonight, I won’t fright

I’ll keep my wishes flowing ’till daylight;

Shooting stars, 11:11

Snap the wishbone just to get keep them flowing.

One of them has to catch soon,

They can’t all be lies

Or else what am I fighting for,

if not a chance to be yours?

A chance to show what I can bring to your life

To show you that I can be wrong

and I can be right

Just a human at your service,

to break at will

Or embrace me with the heart I know so well

You are why my skies still hold their hue

With your smile, a troubled sky subsides to blue.