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Getting Through : Creative Writing

This is the End

from geo - Sunday, March 27, 2005
accessed 1129 times

The creature myself, the great god the slave and the robot. Happy
and seeking death. Following the scent of genitals the sight of twisted
faces, the dripping wet and blood. Moaning in the night, scraping our
names in the peeling paint of solid walls so they will always remember
dancing always dancing when they play our song. Wasting away, decaying
globs of paper rotting on wire figures hopeless in our entropy.

Master of the universe I created to rule my mind and sleep. To sleep
even dream but dream of monsters from that abyss in your head, they
you look too long and now it is you and you can never look away.

Do it, because you can never not do it, and that's what they tell you.
the program is broken but you are well. Too happy to cut yourself in
pieces and feed the mouths barely above water trying to breathe the
you like to breathe and force them to like it too.

And then there's everybody else. You can talk to them but don't look at
them, at least not at their eyes, that's the hardest part. Eyeing them
while they screech language at you through their swollen lips and their
shiny teeth waiting to fuck your mind like they fuck your body, so you
pretend to like them, so you can pretend to love them,so you can
for the rest of your fucking life because you'll never be one of them,
because you'll never love one of them, because they will never love one
you, because no one loves you, because everyone is alone.

So it all changes and you can't change, ever, because you made it
and you can break it but just a little and then wrap it up over and
around, around, so it cant move anymore. No more sharp bones cutting
through your nerves and grinding away at your favorite tissues, you
the ones that are soft. You can pinch them until they turn red and cut
them until they turn beautiful, but I can never fix you I've run all
of tape and glue and pretty things that hide ugly things that hide

I'm sorry I hurt you but I hurt me more a long time before.

Going forward to that place, whatever, stomping against the ground with
each step, yelling against my own insane illusions and wishing that
would shoot out of my mouth, like fire, covering the world.

Still waiting for the music to fade and the picture to freeze on the
face left staring at nothing with empty eyes “so this is the end" I
she says in her mind.

Reader's comments on this article

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from Bones
Monday, December 19, 2005 - 22:09

Wow. I read it twice. Your imagery is appropriate and very descriptive.
(reply to this comment)
from Berserk and Anonymous
Wednesday, April 27, 2005 - 07:47

I like it. I wonder what your Army colleagues would surmise of it though. I'm guessing it's partially about them? or is the focus generic? Interesting that every ex-TF person on here who did service time seems to talk about alienation. Very interesting.
(reply to this comment)
From Geo
Saturday, May 07, 2005, 18:33

I dont know, this wasn't intentionally about the military but i guess that experience is going to affect how I write. I always felt that as a social experiment the military is mostly successful at building camaraderie between people of different backgrounds. I think loneliness or feeling like you dont fit in is something everybody experiences at some time or another. For me alienation is a constant theme that goes far beyond that.(reply to this comment
from Berserk and Anonymous
Wednesday, April 27, 2005 - 07:45


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