Graphic Sleep: Chapter One

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Chapter 1   2

I found a trail of bread crumbs after reading over the area I was in. Those bread crumbs were in the shape of foot prints, my size. Realizing that I had nothing better to do, I succumbed into following them until I was seriously lost. The sun rose to the highest point in the half circle we stood in. It was the brightest it’s ever been, the wind was light and there was a gentle rain that fell constantly and slowly through time. The farther away I walked, the more I seemed closer to something I would soon raze through, the village would be oblivious to my presence and my war. Chaotic it seems, I know because I am. 3

An ocean transmutation is none the less a wave twirling closer to the shore, sweeping away the rusted material never recycled. Reaching out to the Hotels ‘Welcome’ Sign, leaving straight lines of foot prints, the sea shells outlined them. 4

I inhaled the fresh breeze just to find I choked on the entire emptiness of the far out blank sunset. My eyes could see all the way through to the edge of the world, right smack into nothing. It formed an emotion of suicide yet, I’ve never felt so stiff and alive. 5

Tip toeing to the top of dry land with hands gliding up the sky, just as if I were to swipe a cloud from the light blue construction paper. The clouds were fulfilled and dark in revengeful secrets, they were leaving motionless shadows around and about the universe. The sun sat in a hole, seeming like a welding spark tacked up on the wall. I was only capable to glance. 6

Only the vision of such weather condition could I have easily described. A confused path unmarked. I was mapping out every step, it seemed that is. Pointless it was. Until there is some sort of contact available, that is when I can assure myself in survival. Survival in technology. I programmed my feet to travel closer to the H2O, I stepped up as if it was a staircase from planet to planet and to another planet that passed the white seeds that lay out on the black comforter, above and beyond all recognition. 7

I was a Jesus ice skating on thin liquid ice; I danced a while then continued onward. There came to be rock instead of the water-bed desert. It came to be more stable and likely to hold any weight. It was concrete with some loose gravel, spreading everywhere in a parking lot style. Except no white marked lines or handicapped signs. In a sudden, most of it turned to green grass that was barely even two inches. Forming a path that only a one person could fit his two feet upon. Trees sprouted upward, all the way to the sky that all that was once there earlier was now a doubt of what really is there at that present moment. 8

Virus infections that were under construction, the digital like of the trees building themselves into beautiful, exact homes without room to spare a custom yard or a swimming pool. One parking lot to each home and a gold star in the center of each grey door. In the center of those gold stars were words. Those words were names. 9

After time of search that constantly irritated my eyes, a needle in my spine, I finally found my name. Should I walk in? I had thought out loud in my head. The door was unlocked when I checked. I swung it open without fear but as quickly as I could. Standing in silence, an occasional paranoia would creep in and out of my mind. I glanced around and saw these silver cars in every driveway except in mind. 10

I stepped inside. 11

The kitchen had black and white tile and a round table in the center of the room. A window above the sink, and two closed doors, I guessed one went to the living room and one to the laundry room. After checking, I was right. Something hit me at that moment, the smell of coffee and a quick look at how there was only one chair at the table. I helped myself and made this home. 12

Minutes flipped on the clock. I introduced myself to my very own voice. He is my voice. 13

My idea, my diseased little idea. Here comes a crack to form in a cornerstone of all our little pathetic guilt trips, it rips through with the most annoying noise of all. This, this is where you find yourself, dying, slowly into an anarchy message, a dialect someone else had lightly a hard time to understand, easily giving up without really attempting. I start off picturing me living the life I want and then the one I have. I saw both lives surviving on a tube while all personality traits sank into the pillow on the rotting bed of life then death. Though it seemed to shed liquidity balls from the corners of my depth green eyes. Overwhelmed by your authorities and those hospital bills, which by the way, seemed way to complicating in my simple little life. Those doctors and psychologists really can’t say why we live off of money, that's your fucking TV and your $50 toothbrush too. All these materials represent you. And how do you overcome the knowledge of this? 14

I started off with my hands limp on the counter, relaxed and thoughtful. I was blind for so long, it’s like opening my own dead eyes for the first time. I couldn't possibly tell you it was a miracle of God since He is obviously not the answer to our vitality and truth. That’s when I ended up disconnected, perhaps it is because I am...and so are you...to me that is. Medications are meant to moisture stiff, bold eyelashes. I am a paralyzed sin frozen upward, I need my pills. 15

Vividly overcoming...and at the same time, I am becoming. 16

When you become something more, it’s like seeing a new color...again. And those who die simply seem closer. Haunting you with spoiled memories that's easily misdirected into basic depressions and you are just another obvious trouble that slits their wrists. I couldn't sit for a minute to hear out other cries. I couldn't even swim in the pool of my own. Meanwhile, while I am tediously denied into material and the selfishness of suicide. Most people ignore the complexes of life just to live with a smile…even if it is plastic, like a Barbie doll. 17

And then...I saw color, a new color again. 18

At the same time, I saw you as a number. 19

A device that sits on the counter next to the microwave, something someone uses and entertains themselves with, something they have control over when they are struck with a faded alight boredom. 20

An item, a neutral item on the shelf. It’s a glowing galaxy of red scars that one should hide. As long as you laugh, no one will care. Not until you are a mute behavior that is feared and observed. When the whole time, you just have an inability to S  L  E  E  P. 21

This could be your virtual instincts of overcoming and becoming. This could be nothing but a realization of the society you were droned into. 22

This could be something no one will ever experience. Something everyone needs. A black swelled fat lip, from something pointless to form something. 23

Something...? 24

Now that I am a waken whore, I need my coffee to calm. It is 6 O'clock, the time a mother leaves home for the office. Every Saturn leaves its driveway at this time. Those silver cars I mentioned earlier. For a second, I thought there was one in my driveway, I swear I saw it drive in reverse just like the rest. 25

So, unique and exact. 26

For something to be perfectly beautiful, it must first be destroyed. That's when all was ruined. It was like a sweet candy, the lawyer filing her lies and filthy covered up reports. Wrongly accused. I know, it brings the most necessary revenge opportunity. At least the children are sane enough to keep the jump ropes over their bodies. Children are the only innocence left, and then some bitch had to spoil the fun. Could that bitch be me? What exactly did I do!? 27

There at the stool, the stiff, flaky skin of me, from being dried out from the sun shining through the window. As for the curtains, frayed and ripped through with stains and holes. Every string was on its own practically. The table was balanced well when I decided to lay down my head on it, looking to the side. In my view for the last time was nothing but that one kitchen window. The last thing I ever saw was the neighbor’s house. Peaceful and home-like. The garden looked fake, a picture off the TV screen. 28

"Don't look at me like that" 29

An angry tone, it couldn't exactly direct itself to my face. 30

The being was trying to ignore me, but couldn't help but stare right back. If you are uncomfortable, close my eyes. I did nothing wrong, or did I? The fact was, I was an alarm that was paranoid. I saw her take advantage of everything and everyone. She is me.  Did I SEE it with my own eyes. Well, no. But I came to KNOW it. She was accepted because of the way she acted, the way she dressed, the way she would inch up her skirt at the right moment and place in front of the right man. She got her way despite the greed...despite the lies. I always got what I wanted. Well, okay, so I thought, and maybe I did make up all that. 31

I am a hooker that is obvious. Every step I took was a mistake and a foot closer to trouble. 32

The whole reason why she started this was to show society the truth behind crime and so called love. She was unwilling the first time, when she got so angry, she took control. Control is a monster unable to let go. She was a rage, a mission set in revenge, that revenge was on innocence. And all I ever did was sit there to watch. Even though she really has no tie in why I am this way, well maybe she is and I am oblivious to it. 33

There I am, by the light bulb while it flickers into a dull darkness. I watch myself and the being next to me, freaking out in panics and emotional screams. The fearing gears turning so fast that at any second they could jam. Then BAM, he will be a burnt out light bulb staring out the same window. 34

That window... 35

Don't ever forget the last thing you saw, because the last thing you saw will be the first thing you see too. Of course, I'm not there yet.36