Twisted Again
Written May 5, 1999
I thought we were getting civilized.
I thought we were getting weak.
I knew we had it in us.
This rage just had to speak.
Two boys brought it to bear.
Two monsters brought back the fear.
Swallow back your toys and minivans.
The world is still a dangerous place.
Gather up your flocks and lock your door.
Evil has a new Face.
Message in a Bottle
Written May 2, 1999
Engine roaring.
Mouth watering.
Heart racing.
Toes curling.
This is it.
Time to go.
I hope you get this message.
I hope that it finds you happy.
Healthy.
With a really great ass.
Doesn't it always seem to be this way?
Even when we were together, we were apart.
Always getting used to being two parts of a whole.
But no time for memories, this trip needs to begin.
Shift.
The acceleration does something to me.
It jogs all that has died and remained.
Stirs the soup with a crown of broccoli.
Now I can think.
Salty air, stiff breeze, but still I fly.
Faster it seems.
Hugging the corners.
Portals opening.
Knights on chargers galloping across draw bridges.
If I close my eyes for just a second, I can imagine I have wings.
But I don't have anywhere that I need to fly.
For I have all that I need inside, in my vault.
Shift.
The tempo is rising, and I can feel my knuckles tightening.
Like the pace of the race which I can still taste.
I've moved beyond the Rat Race, figured out the Question, with which I have been badgering myself.
Not THE Question, but My Question.
It's all so simple.
Shift.
Sun cutting through ocher clouds, lighting my way.
Racing along murky shores, can you smell the sweet air?
I smile as I think of how many nights I spent in thought.
How many times I doubted what should have been clear.
And now I know why.
Shift
We're almost there, the marsh grasses and waves blending, melting into one streak as I scream.
As my mind found more and more inputs and outputs and sideputs, I put it all together.
I found the answer.
Order out of Chaos, out of the Matrix.
Don't know why I still hold this.
Don't know why I still think about it.
An ocean above a bubble holding a candle, flickering in the tight confines.
I can feel what should be pressure, but is now just water splashed.
Drink it down, let it refresh my need to have order.
Why am I writing this letter?
It won't make a difference.
It won't change the fact that we forced ourselves to be two apart.
Different, but exactly the same.
Two sides to that same damn coin.
Shift.
Crimson Brimstone
Written May 5, 1999
Lying in wait.
Lying awake.
I've always existed.
I've always been.
Undiscovered, Undisturbed.
Always waiting for a chance.
A chance to see the sun again.
Put into tangible form by man's hands.
I've ever-haunted his dreams.
Given a name by man's mouth.
I've ever-admired his means.
Can you feel me?
Do you acknowledge my existence?
It doesn't really matter.
I was here when you came out of the womb.
I'll be here when you go into the ground.
Ever-vigilant.
Ever-watchful.
Ancient beyond the Ancients.
Out of Time.
You're out of time.
I'm here.
Joining the Ranks of the Cynics
Written May 11, 1999
You tell me.
I just don't care.
I'm at a place where I don't have to.
No kids to lock me into position.
No wife to wonder why I'm in such a harried condition.
If I don't put you on the list,
I just don't care.
If I don't have your thoughts in mind,
I just don't care.
After awhile in this place, you can become a little hardened.
After awhile clinging to the same old pace, you can find yourself cynical.
An Old Bird.
Finally getting all these feelings out, feels great.
But I'm now aware of the space they took up.
How much of what I did was tainted by the venom?
How much love was just an attempt at fulfillment?
Makes you doubt all those important decisions you think you made.
But now you wonder how much choice you had.
How much conscious thought went into a subconscious decision?
The need to breed.
The need to spread my seed still doesn't seem to touch me.
How could it when I've seen what happens?
How could I want to bring someone here, when people like me are around?
Undecided Monsters, with flairs for the dramatic.
Unrivaled C h a m e l e o n s , making fools into addicts.
I don't think I could have a Beastman Junior.
Or maybe even a Little C h a m e l e o n.
Because even though it was a requirement for me,
I want the Little B to know how to work his magic without mirrors.
Lovely Sister
Written May 6, 1999
Played my bloody strings 'til I wanted to die.
But I knew you only wanted me to cry.
To break me completely, was your given task.
Why you did this, I never quite asked.
Even when you took the serrated blade to my eye.
I didn't take the time to ask you why.
Oh, Beautiful Sister.
Oh, Lovely Sister.
Never would I suspect you of such Devilry.
Hated our Father, but you took it out on me.
Why couldn't you control your Hate?
So I could grow up normally, with an undecided Fate.
Ripped into me til I shared your doubt.
Clawed my skin til I knew my place without.
I never quite shared your fears completely.
Too strong was I, but I hid it discreetly.
December 95, you moved and my fear took flight and flew.
It was that day that I knew my rage grew.
Like magic, it was, and things got a bit better.
Til Mother broke down and I turned to Vedder.
Eventually, I moved away from all of the pain.
But every Christmas, I know you feel the shame.
Deserved, I feel, for your crime.
Never, Never will I take the time.
To let you off this very sharp hook.
For what you did, I should have thrown the book.
I'm sorry for taking this time to whine,
but these things cannot be forgotten with time.
No dirt on coffins, no hatchets in trees, no water under bridges, and certainly no sleep.
Family should be close, but responsible for what they do.
Learn from my life, so you can be strong too.
You're worth the world, much more than dirt.
Don't be abused, don't be so hurt.
Please, never take the abuse that I took.
Lying awake crying, Oh how my body shook.
Beaten like a dog, it was then I made up my mind.
A way to fight back, I had to find.
All these raging emotions I needed to purge.
It was then that Brendan truly emerged.
I hope my survival, under the bridge,
Will help someone without the priviledge.
You must learn to stand and be heard.
From this day on, the tides have turned.
Primal aggression you must unearth.
Through yourself, a ragged rebirth.
To the reader, I bid you a fond adieu.
Til next time I try, to tell a story to you.
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