Shadow Work

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Often I have wished to be Wild, yet not so Wild that no one shall ever wish to Tame me. On the other hand...

Often I have wished to be Tame yet not so Tame that no one would ever wish to make me Wild. 

I would rather have a 

thousand enemies if I 

truly had one sincere 

friend than to have a 

thousand acquaintances and not 

a single friend. 

In a chamber with a view, I dwell and squander my imagination. Introspectively, I contemplate vitality, mortality, and death. Apprehension bloats my mind as I ponder over the existence of ESP, the cosmos, alien life forms, UFO's, as well as the lonesome insignificance of my own humble opinions.

In the next chamber with a view, they puzzle over the same complexities, 

mind boggling questions and illogical answers. They too find nothing but the insignificance of their own opinions.

If one person in every chamber, school, apartment or workhouse could find nothing but the insignificance of their own opinions, then my opinions wouldn't seem so humble and insignificant anymore. But then again, who listens to little ole' me anyway. 

As a puppet master, I observe on high the random chaos of school children. I stand and control what they can and cannot do. How is it that I cannot even control my own chaos?

Am I just the random schoolgirl controlled by a puppet master on high, 

or is fate really the natural result of consequences and trial and error 

as some drunkard old man babbles on about life over a six pack and a "bucket of lard."

How is it that two lonesome people leading two lonesome lives drawn by fate and a common acquaintance can exchange reluctant goodbyes with the knowledge that they will never see each other again?

Even though they've gone their separate ways they don't feel so lonesome anymore. They also have the knowledge that somewhere in their overwhelming lives there's someone just as lonesome as they are. 

Shhhhh!!!

Did you hear that?

No, that.

Well, listen.

What is it, you say?

It's your heart.

What does it want, you ask?

I don't know

you tell me.

It's your heart.

When he left me he took my heart with him. I never thought I would love another. The pain I suffered ripped me limb from limb as I saw my fox in his den with her.

The storms have come and gone; I hear silence. Colors burn the sky piercing the dull mist. My life goes on; I no longer feel dense. Even through thick smog I sense life's quick twist.

Now a fox cloaked in red with eyes; steel blue; stands peering watching my particular stride. His fur is damp wet from the rainbow's dew.

I search his sly thoughts for what lies inside. I took a shining to him as he did to me. Quick love, with no memory of what used to be.  

She crept through the dangerous jungle of Africa on her hands and knee shoving the twigs and branches aside. Would her life be over before the sun set, and if so, why bother dragging herself to safety when she could simply die in peace here in the wilderness? Survival of the fittest, that's why, but she needs her rest.

She rolls over onto her back resting her head againsta tree branch that had broken from its natural habitat during the storm. She clenches her teeth together restraining the intense instinct to scream out from the pain in her left leg, or at least, from what is left of it.

She closes her eyes and listens. It is all different now. The birds that used to chirp madly now whistle sweetly and the bugs that used to buzz needlessly now giggle pleasantly. 

Is this death sweeping over her? Are these oddities simply the sounds of the transition into a better world? Or is this just hysteria? But then, what is hysteria anyway?

Who's to say what's hysteria and what's not? If it were up to her, I'm sure this would be a much wackier world and all the average everyday people would be in asylums for the rudimentally unhappy. But obviously it isn't up to her because she's too fucked up to care.

He was extensively easy on the eyes as he walked by, the few seconds that his life coincided with mine. I wanted to yell out to him to say "Hey, baby, come over here and teach me some of those market figures!" You know. One of those ice-breakers to make him blush as he crossed the street and to make my friends giggle. But then I saw her and she was enough to keep my mouth shut. She never said a word, but I knew by the weariness in her painted face that he didn't deserve her.

I still don't know the man's name but I don't have to know. It was probably something like Bill or Bob or Dick. Nonetheless, just by looking at him I knew his story. He must have been one of those kids whose parents gave him everything his little heart desired in exchange for love, and little Junior became quite shrewd and selfish in the process. He wore an extravagant formal suit of the likes I am not aware of. Probably Armanie, or something to that extent. He seemed like the type to own his own business with his very own Swiss bank account and money piled up as high as Old Faithful at its peak. His dark hair was slicked back by a sticky substance, but I could tell he knew enough about style not to plaster it to his head. Either that or his stylist made him gorgeous every morning before breakfast, after lunch, and in the evening. He had a broad chin, and I've always felt that a well-defined jaw bone is extremely important for those fancy kissing scenes in the movies. He had a wide thin mouth that was neither happy nor sad, like Julia Roberts' mouth when she's really serious, but in a masculine sort of way. His shoes glimmered in the sunlight and moved hurriedly along the crosswalk.

Two feet behind his feet (and my turn-off to him I might add) was another pair of shoes. These were feminine and graceful. As she walked behind him like a servant her heels clacked against the pavement, and she attempted to keep up with his lengthy, effortless strides. Legs extended above those high heels up under a short skirt that was alluring enough to turn a few heads and jump-start a few pacemakers at a dull convention, yet conservative enough to avoid taking too much attention away from her man, and otherwise business partner.

I can picture him lecturing her about the importance of this new deal with IBM and that she was still a child. Better seen and not heard. Pathetic, if you ask me. I can picture her tear-streaked face beneath all that make-up staring itself in the mirror of a fancy restaurant shaking her head at herself, biting her lower lip, and repeating those infamous five words that would always ruin her in the end of any relationship. "Never mix business with pleasure! Never mix business with pleasure!!!"

But this was no restaurant... This was a public street where everyone was the same and no one was better than the next guy. Still she had an image to uphold, a man to satisfy, and a heart to fool once again. 

It was almost odd how her hair was pulled neatly up into a perfect french twist revealing an elegantly long neck that balanced her head like a crown on a pedestal in a museum. She was an ancient artifact buried under the dust of an old attic. No one would ever know how much she was worth unless they respected her enough to find out. 

Such a pity. 

As I stood peering into that mysteriously unfamiliar, and even eerie tunnel that except for the faintest indication of light at the end seemed to overflow with gloom, the very fiber of my being shivered with dread. Even though my elder sibling nudged me forward I could not bring myself to take a single step for I had no idea as the who or what could be lurking inside that foreboding darkness.

"Go on! Oh, don't tell me you're going to chicken out again. You are such a baby!"

"I'll go after you!" I insisted.

"That's what you said the last time and I came back to find you trembling half to death in the doghouse."

"This time it'll be different."

"Well... all right, but if you turn back I'll return fully prepared to drag you in there with me!"

"Okay, okay! I get the picture! Are you ready?"

"Yeah! On your marks, get set. Go!"

In a flash Arabella was out of sight and I was propelling my stubby ten-year old legs as fast as they could go, yet the trip into the unknown seemed endless. Darkness seemed to swallow me whole and as I reached what I believed to be the hub of the entire nightmare my body forced itself, due to the lack of stamina, to come to an abrupt halt. Panting and gasping for air I tried to move but found myself unable to budge. Just as fear overpowered me and I thought I would never see the light of day again I thought of my sister at the end of this treacherous path. I imagined her mocking me, pointing her fingers, and laughing at my cowardly ways. Anger and frustration filled my soul, forcing the numbness to slowly but surely dissolve into oblivion. I found myself rushing forward thrilled all at once to see the sunlight that soaked up my fear and filled me with joy. It was at this time that I saw my sister with an inquisitive, yet concerned look about her. 

We gawked at each other for what seemed to be a very long time, and then, out of nowhere, she smiled at me. A bright glorious smile full of respect and pride for her maturing younger brother. The kind of small, simple smile that starts with pursed lips and ends with a chuckle that is just fighting to get out of your system.

Though she does her best to this day to conceal our friendship to our older brothers and all of her friends, I can always remember that cool day in February when we laughed together and actually enjoyed each other's company. 

:

Beads of sweat drooled down her face. Her heart raced and her chest trembled violently. She squeezed her eyes tightly shut trying to fight the images out of her head but they would not leave her. She saw pictures of death and destruction in the blackness of her imagination. Her subconscious took over what she believed to be her soul...

She saw a man in a white lab coat with a huge nose that seemed to enlarge by the second. His body seemed to be floating in nothingness, and everything passed an arms-length of him was unclear. An angel of mercy?

"Save me from my own self-loathing!"

Her voice rang out and echoed on invisible walls and then he was gone... She stood on her bed looking down into the vast emptiness for a man who she had depended on, but everything passed four feet was lost to her and she fell...

Strong motherly arms enveloped her and held her close but her bulk was too much and she slipped from the woman's strong grip into a horrific sea of paint. Sucked into a whirlpool of bright, nostalgic colors the last bit of breath was torn from her body and blackness again filled her mind...

When she regained consciousness she could feel the sand of a glorious beach clinging to her bare back. She saw a silhouette and its face was revealed to her. Hideousness poured from every angle of its body and she cowered in the shadow of his massive bulk making only the feeblest of attempts to escape from its repulsiveness. Tentacles clasped on her arms and neck and she was filled with a false sense of love for it. Still, suspicion of love was stronger than its poisonous tentacles and that alone drove her away from it and she escaped... As he hunted for her she saw only footprints. Small and dainty ones crushed by the monstrous craters caused by her predator's great weight. Suddenly her naked body shivered from the loss of warmth for no longer was he breathing down her neck. She ran randomly about searching for her "lost love" as she suffered from its poison's overpowering withdrawal effects, and in the process she found a huge trunk lying abandoned upon the ocean floor. Greed took over...

She opened it and peered inside. 

She found a satin robe and wrapped it close about her. A mesmerizing red light blinked at her. A jewel perhaps? No... a clock! She squinted her eyes. "It says five... forty-four!"...

Beads of sweat drooled down her face. Her heart raced and her chest trembled violently...

Coming Soon...