A Monday Unlike Any Other

It was finally Friday (he smiled before opening his eyes). Martin shuffled out of bed and up the old spiral stairs to where the unknown awaited his arrival.
No warm smell of coffee or familiar pattering about greeted him, nor did the yellow light of day.
The curtains were drawn and the sala was littered with depression's debris that should have taken weeks to accumulate...
He looked down at his hands and then his wrists to discover tightly wound bandages; shaking and short of breath, he peeled back the tape to find the inexplicable.
Small x-marks of incision revealed that everything inside seemed to be replaced, somehow better, faster, and lighter. He shouted out an otherworldly plea, realizing that no one was around to hear him.
He thought he must still be dreaming; nothing was how it was supposed to be.
Where was Naomi? And Bust? He decided to go back to bed and let the astral fuckery resolve itself.

With the curtains now peeled, it was dark and no one had called about his absence from work. The faded hue of his bedside lamp made it apparent that resolution had never came.

The phone had no dial tone and the cable was only coming through in static waves. He checked his pulse; vascular vibrations offered confirmation without comfort. Martin paced with a frightening emptiness before draping himself with his favorite robe.

The "on" button of the coffee pot glowed with desperation and decency. He felt reassured that something was working as it should. Fresh air beckoned a sense of sanity and with a full mug in hand he was ready to put the pieces back together.

Slowly down the old spiral stairs and out the heavy wooden door, he looked past the patio to find nothing below but the black infinitude of nothingness. He shouted once more with all that he had left, took one last sip, and let himself step over into the abyss.

A Little Too Sweet

Cold marble and hockey replays linger with the familiarity of youth;
I disengage with certainty,
Engaging myself instead.

Gravity smells the opportunity for destruction,
But temptation resigns to logic again.

Dionysus rolls the die while Apollo counts cards...

Polarization is unnecessary, but inevitable.

An Unexpected Vision

Bless all who sing it with me, bless all!
Bless all who sing it with me, bless all!

Now, I've heard this story told before that every blessing comes with a curse, but I don't believe that to be true. A curse is implied to be inherently evil. But blessings are not given to us with evil along for the ride, no.

Bless all who sing it with me, bless all!
Bless all who sing it with me, bless all!

Blessings must indeed have a counter, a balance in this world and this balance is more accurately called sacrifice. And sacrifice should not be seen as what some may call a necessary evil, but a worthy cost for the blessing in hand.

Bless all who sing it with me, bless all!
Bless all who sing it with me, bless all!

For the Lord may bestow upon us His will, we must trust Him, and His vision for us. It is up to us to see a blessing in what others see as curse. It is up to us to look upon sacrifice as a means to appreciate those very blessings when they occur.

Bless all who sing it with me, bless all!
Bless all who sing it with me, bless all!

Let us not forget: all that is sacred is worth sacrifice and no blessing comes without one.
God Bless.

Perspective via Perception

Perception-the ability to see, hear, or become aware of something through the senses

Perspective-a particular attitude toward or way of regarding something; a point of view

I feel so very sad and i don't want to be any more

I don;t want to work 40 hours a week being a medical lady

I am a lazy piece of shit?

Perhaps this is true.

bleahhshfjgj

I start tomorrow. 

lets change our perceptions to change our perspective kids!

if i don't feel dramatically crippled by my agreement to these works of time and hours for money,

I wouldn't perceive it as terrible and therefore wouldn't belong to the perspective that this is a terrible exchange indeed.

Mi corazón

Deeply flawed compulsions,
Heritable,
Privileged to be so sensitive,
Predictable,
Despair always permeates,
Impossible,
Relief seems unlikely.

Cold One

Drink to remember,
Drink to forget,
One place to another,
No sense of regret.

Frustration

Diluted or purified?

I crave simplicity in the impossibly complex...

Sweet cream from sour milk,

Release from within the confined,

Rotting from the inside out,

Greed keeps moistening the infinitely dried,

But that won't help my teeth regrow,

Or any less havoc to be wreaked put aside.