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Weird-Crazy-Perhaps Scary World of Psyche Writing and Poetry

Who Decided That This was a Good Idea: Stay in the Car and Wait for Authorities Pt 2

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A fuzzy vision of me sitting in the passenger seat of the car heading into a tree briefly flashed within my sight and smacked me right back into reality. My whole body sprung upwards like a heavily wound up Jack-In-The-Box. I shot up from the bed I found myself in, drenched in sweat with my heart was pounding outside of my chest. I was greeted by the officers as well as a nurse and a doctor in royal blue scrubs. “Joey! Jen! Nick! Guys! Where am I? GOD!!-” I screamed out at the top of my lungs. Both officers gently shushed me and gestured me to lay back. They caressed me and rubbed my back and shoulders until I calmed down.

“Shhhhh… Michael it’s okay. It’s okay. It’s over now. I need you to lay back and relax.” The nurse gently pushed against my chest and gestured me to lay back. Both the young officer and sheriff slowly backed away from me and moved to the front of the bed where I could both see them. 

“Why am I in the hospital? What happened? Where are my friends? Were you able to find them?” I couldn’t control myself. Part of my mind told me to stay calm while the other told me that I needed answers. “What happened to me? Where are my friends? Are they alive? Are they…” the solemn looks from everyone described it all.

“Only one of your friends survived the crash, Joseph I bel-” 

“Joey?? Where is he? Can I see him now??? What happened to the rest of my friends? Where are they??” The impact from my injuries forced me to lay back down. Any movement I made the excruciating pain that much worse.

“They died on impact son. Two of your friends were launched quite a distance away from the car due to the mere force of the accident. Th-” 

“Please… I don’t want to hear any more about it. I…” I completely lost myself within my own tears and cried harder than I have ever cried in my entire life. All I could remember was sitting up in the hospital bed, head between knees. The officers stayed by my side the whole entire time, and I am so grateful that they did. 

A few hours later, my mom and dad came. They burst through the doorway of my room. “Michael! Thank god you’re alright… oh my baby!” I could remember my mom crying out as she held me close to her chest. My Dad held me and my mom close together in a massive bear hug. We held each other for what felt like an eternity. The officers stayed sitting in the chairs right in front of the windows. 

“Mom, Dad I’m sorry I-“

“Shhhhhhh it’s alright. It’s alright. There is nothing for you to be sorry for.” My mom interrupted me as she gently stroked my hair. “We’re all just glad that you’re okay.”

“If there anything we can get for you son?” My Dad said as he gently leaned closer to me. My Dad looked solemn, tired. I’ve never seen my Dad like this before, not even when Grandpa died. His hair was disheveled, his gray eyes were bloodshot, and his skin almost colorless.

“No, I’m okay Dad, thanks though.” I nodded, assuring him I was okay. He walked out the door and joined the officers who were sitting in the cafe, which was thankfully down a couple doors from where I was. 

I was in the hospital for a few weeks before I was allowed to go home. Joey was in critical condition for a few days, then slowly started to decline. He died not too long after. His back was broken in four different places, had a punctured lung, eternal bleeding, and had severe brain injury from the impact of his head ramming into the steering wheel. 

I attended all of my friend’s funerals. Each one was back to back to back. It rained for what seemed to be like an eternity. A small monument in the shape of a heart was engraved into a sheet of bedrock that was put on a hill in the cemetery. Like the rain, our tears dropped endlessly. I dropped out of school and moved back home. I just needed time to recover before I could face reality again. What is reality now? I’m starting to question myself. In fact, I’m starting to question if I ever truly made it out of that accident, or if I’m still alive, stuck in some sort of flux in time or space. 

I think I’m still stuck in this nightmare. I really don’t think this is over. I see my dead friends everywhere I go. They stand around and they just stare at me with empty eyes. Out of the corner of my eye, I always see this black thing. It’s kind of like a dog or a rat… Another thing is… I haven’t been able to sleep since the accident. The accident was over four months ago, and I still haven’t slept. That’s not humanly possible. I also can’t feel my toes and feet as I walk, and when I do walk I feel like I’m not entirely touching the ground… what’s going on?

Bad Ending… ?

Start at the very beginning

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Categories
Randomness Weird-Crazy-Perhaps Scary Writing and Poetry

The Grove: The Doctor and The Attourney pt 2

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May 25th 2015- I don’t even know what’s going on….

Yes! That is now my header for today’s great clusterfuck of events! One thing lead to another which lead to another and now… and now Joshua is being held in protective custody. No one will tell me anything, not even Steve. I kept pushing the question on Steve and all he could tell me is I don’t know… One minute my brother was in his room, as fine as he can be in this shitty situation. Then the next he is being taken out on the gurney through a pair of double doors which automatically lock whenever someone has walked through them. There are cops and people in white coats everywhere… they took Steve into the double doors too. He struggled. I couldn’t help him. I got up and fell flat on my face. Flat on my face. My ears are ringing and everything is fuzzy.

This can’t be happening. This can’t be happening. This can’t be happening. This can’t be happening. This can’t be happening. This can’t be happening. This can’t be happening. This can’t be happening. This can’t be happening. This can’t be happening. This can’t be happening. This can’t be happening. This can’t be happening. This can’t be happening. This can’t be happening. This can’t be happening. This can’t be happening………

I need help. I think they gave me something…. The monster of blackness is near…. it took my parents and now it’s going to take me. I feel its hollowed eyes on me. I can see its wide toothy grin with serrated yellow and brown teeth. I can feel its breath on my face. I can feel it looming over my shoulders… this heaviness… I don’t know how much time I have left. I write this as a way to find calm but god dammit it’s not working. The cops and people in white coats are starting to close in around me with syringes and handcuffs… arms drawn. They should just kill me too…. I want to die. Free me from the monster of blackness… save me. save me. svea em. sven ma. me svea. save. me. 

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Categories
Alex Speak Randomness Weird-Crazy-Perhaps Scary Writing and Poetry

Decadence

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 Let me hold you within my palms my dear.

Accept my sweetest embrace, my love.

Your blood feels so good against my bare skin.

It feels so pure… more precious than gold.

I feel elated when you cling onto what life you have left.

I yearn to swim within the inner confines of your corporal being.

Separate bone, fibers, muscle, and skin… there exists your TRUE being.

I could consume you all day, every day, for the rest of my life…

I feel aroused when you dig into my skin and draw blood.

Please allow my blood to run with yours my sweet decadent prince.

This is true love… let it last forever and ever!


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(all credit goes to the original owner(s) of featured image)

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Alex Speak Artwork Randomness Weird-Crazy-Perhaps Scary

Grey Matter

We really do live in a world of black and white… right?

Not necessarily no.

There is this one thing that lurks underneath our own toes that mimics the color of concrete.

But, no one ever really likes to talk about it.

I don’t blame them at all for it.

Once you notice it, its like this fog that wraps around your feet like snakes only to pull you downwards straight to hell like opaque quicksand.

Hell-bent, easy to access, easy to abuse, right at our fingertips- grey matter.

It is literally under our own feet.

When ever we are on our own mobile devices, we look straight down at it.

Do we ever really pay attention to it though? Well, no not really.

But there are times when bad luck hits us the hardest and the truth behind grey matter hits us in the back of your head.

The truth really doesn’t go away you see. It’s like a big, buzzing, black house fly.

It buzzes around your face, your food, your walls, and everything it can put its grimy appendages on.

You eventually get tired of the buzzing and either let it out a window, or smash it with a flat surface.

You can always throw out the fly, but its nasty essence still remains.

We’d rather pay attention to a world of criminal lies and fraud than instead of the grey matter.

I bet you probably wonder why this stuff exists.

Well, grey matter is a portal you see. No, more like the symbiotic fog that anything six feet under would use to its advantage.

Cold rainy days, ‘Silent Hill’ ridden fog, the calm after the storm, cloudy days, we could gaze at its beauty, but we don’t.

We don’t realize that the grey matter is what creates the beauty in our world. Yes that’s right I said it.

Our sunny days, jade green grasses, lush shrubbery, ever-growing trees and nature, the ebb and flow of tides and rivers, yes. That’s all the work of grey matter.

But, we’ve taken it for granted. We treat it like as if it’s a wet animal trying to reach inside for shelter, for hope in the middle of a massive downpour.

We reject it like our own fear of the dark or of dusty closest or corridors.

Well my dear friend, if you believe Mother Nature doesn’t exist, you are dead wrong.

She has grown far too tired of our negligence and ignorance of true beauty.

She’s fed up of the polution, endless flow of trash and filth, carelessness of the neature before us and the many inhabitants it beholds.

I felt her come into a dream of mine the other night. Of course it frightened me.

Who would see a massive overly talkative oak tree in the middle of thick grey fog in the middle of nowhere?

Only in a dream you would. She was so beautiful, but dying. I watched her as she leaned one of her decaying branches on my shoulder. A wave of visions and omens flooded my eyes.

I jolted awake in tears and felt a gentle whisper in my ear say, “Spread awareness of the grey fog, or behold to witness the death of mankind and the slow decay of the universe”.

So, here I am. Portraying to you the same dream I’ve had over and over for the past week.

I’m so done with ignorance. I’m so done with hate.

I’ve created what is similar to a bomb shelter, except only a bit smaller and more confined being hundreds of feet below my place of dwelling.

I will never let anyone in. Never. Not even my own family can join me.

You see, the reason why I am here is because I conducted some experiments.

Experiments of various elements from the periodic table with a mixture of witchcraft, ancient voodoo rituals, and bones and parts of animals who dwell in the fog.

I managed to concoct it into a perfectly beautiful glass jar I made of my own. I tested a bit of it, and only one drop made my house collapseand sink into oblivion.

I realized how successful it was just with one drop. I couldn’t imagine what the whole jar could do to the world. I did a bit of traveling and went to Niagra falls, a bucket list choice.

I tossed that jar without anyone noticing and I got out of there as fast as I could, which was pretty easy. I started a fire on my property and watched the remnants of my family and children disintegrate.

I took personal pleasure knowing that I have indeed completed my work.

I had to do it. It was the only way. I had been an environmentalist for 21 years, and it still didn’t matter.

Internet posts, petitions, fundraisers, rallys, workshops… nothing worked. After seeing that repetitive dream, I finally got the last one that showed the same tree telling me that I knew what to do.

Science has never been my thing, but after getting my BA and Masters in Physics and Chemistry, it was a slam dunk.

Before I log off to watch the human race burn, I have a few last things to say.

Its 2025. I am 45 years of age, and now living without a family. I was promised a new life, a flawless destiny, and a Utopia only described by the ancients.

As I walked into the bunker and locked myself in, I saw the tree appear to me with my own eyes.

“Well done my dear son. You have done well. Its time to see your work go into effort. Now, let me take this over and refresh the world to what it should be. The only ones that will remain are you and me.”

I nodded and hugged the tree. She disappeared as soon as she appeared. I turned on my weather radio and TV. It was on mute, but somehow I could still hear the screams.

Screams developed by research that took years to make.