Nightmares, Prose and Other Musings!

"I awoke one morning only to find the nightmare was real. Can this really be reality?" - TwistedTripper

This page and sub pages are a collection of bits and pieces from my fragmented consciousness, often filled with despair, hopelessness and a struggle to find a glimmer of sense to what all too often seems senseless. I hope to expand my interest in writing and although I often dream of doing the "Great Australian Novel" I seem to find excuses not to continue or become distracted with life's plethora of reasons why it's better to waste time than use it constructively. Come back here on occasion to see if any new stream of consciousness has been added.

Jyri

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Want and Sin

I must have the sea whispering her lust into the very essence of my being. Speaking lascivious playful words as the white wash of the Pacific azure fizzles and foams, dispersing the language of desire into the super organism of wanton opaque cells, eager to translate the excited erotic dance of arousal into a unity of souls.

Staring out, across the sapphire coast, the horizon glows in the after light of amber hues coalescing with a deep blue line which forms the extent of my vision. Montague Island fading in a mist of salt spray stirred up by a slight Nor-Easter sea breeze. The cool air caressing my body as my thoughts drift through the misty air returning to the vision of beauty that possessed me to travel the long arduous journey down south. Her dark brown eyes glistening within my mind's eye as I gaze out beyond the horizon into the universe sleeping and dreaming. Orion's light glancing meekly against my peripheral vision prompting and beckoning me to drive through the black pools surrounded by dark hazel polar arrays. Seducing and almost irresistible the force which pushes me from behind to explore the black pupils of her eyes.

Delving further outwards resisting the temptation to enter the black ether I focus on the curves emulating from the form now transfixed against a back drop of ocean serenity. Jagged edges of reality anti aliasing pixels of memory into clarity. Black, soft and shining, her hair flowing downwards upon pale succulent flesh, contrasted by red swollen lips, moist with yearning. Amorous glances guiding my line of sight to admire the divine sculpture of want and sin laid bare before my eyes. Feeling guilty at my debauchery of fantasy, I arise from the hardwood bench resting upon an Oregon deck overlooking the Pacific ocean.

Dalmeny almost dead, prepares for meat and three veg, whilst my mind embraces a feast of deserts that mock the resting of tired souls living a rebirth. Guilty feelings of mind's eye deceit, compel me to seek the one, which betwixt my gaze. Sliding open the aluminium framed door, softly and gently, I feel driven to lay my hand on the shoulder silent and unaware. Startled by my approach, the girl of Orion smiles at recognition and certainty, whilst watching scenes bombarded into the room by phosphorous electrons. Her eyes captured by a flash of the unseen, are drawn to mine as I return the smile still affected by the incredible and fantastic luck that had bestowed me with this glorious, all consuming vision. My cold hands warmed by a promise of eternity, grasps the smooth endearing mound of her bare shoulder, as I lean over and kiss red succulent lips. My right hand caressing the pale complexion of her cheek. My lips tingle in an enveloping aura of closeness, reaped from a harvest of wishful purple haze, like the taste of smelling wild roses. Warmth radiating into the fibre of fingertips and naked flesh of lips.

I feel myself melt away from the world and slide rather awkwardly down the back of leather, the lounge decorating the insides of the seaside bungalow with a splash of blue. The Tasmanian oak clad interior, breathing the warmth and glow. Wanting to feel her warm embrace, I clamber upon her as I slide down the slippery surface of leather. My head, clumsily falling upon her lap, we laugh at the sexual connotation of my face peering into the scared abyss. “While your down there” echoing through corridors of thought drowned out by physical laughter. Laughter soon fading into disappointment as I slither my body up her warm silky night dress, my cheek touching hers, as I whisper into her ear that I want her only to feel rejected by, “not tonight dear. I Have a headache.”

Rage

Do you ever get the feeling that every tendon at the back of your head is like a post tensioned cable....waiting to spring and catapult your head into a thousand little fragments...barrelling across the floor in shreds of crystalline shards? No? Well it must be only me, although I do have the feeling that the lady who lives next door to me could perhaps relate. Often I hear this madness echoing from the confines of her isolation. A jeering madness, a wretched semi laughter and insane gibbering, that is a mixture of Indian and English.Then the door slams. Once! Twice! Three times! Bang! Bang! Bang! like shots of ice in hardened, scar tissue arteries, constricted and collapsing under a heavy, burdened load of translucent crystals, hammering away inside caverns of thought.

It begins in the stillness of night, the banging, the anger...the rage. Voices whispering, telling her the world is evil, an inhospitable cacophony of mistrust. "Look at those people"..."They want to spy on you"..."they want to invade your world". "Look at that fucker hanging out his washing". "That car that pulled up out front." "They want to KILL you!" Slam! the door smashes against the jamb...the scream of silent suffering can be gagged, muffled for only a brief moment. The bang of relief, stomping in the darkness of endless night...Confusion and hatred. Inner hatred! Just shut the fuck up! Bang! Bang! Bang!

I awake to the sound of this confusion. The rage is contagious. I want to kill her. To free her from the demons that stalk through black pools of a vacant stare. I want to slit her throat and hear the garbled end to those voices, which torment with sermons of hate. Bang! One more shot in the still night. Oh yes, I will await her, stalk her, slip into her world and see through her eyes, as blood pools on the floor. Her eyes dilated and perhaps a faint smile will curve upon those dry, wicked lips. My eyes will perhaps bear witness to this lascivious creature of night as it leaves its prison of ripened flesh. Will I then be able to look away before it enters mine?

Reflecting Whore

An echo of a ticking clock beats against the inside of my head. Time seems to be running out and I feel panicked. I don't know exactly why I am in such a hurry but it seems a matter of urgency that I get to some distant destination. Where this destination is, I do not know. Nothing is making sense in this haze of urgency but I need to get away. But where? There is nowhere to run and I find myself walking along a path, which appears to lead nowhere. Perhaps it is nowhere that I am being drawn to. A nowhere land where perhaps there shall be nowhere people to invite me in. I feel lost as I take each step with caution, only to find myself out of breath. Am I moving too slowly? Time is running out! I hear the beating quickening and I want to keep rhythm, "why is this so?" fleets through my mind, nevertheless I pick up my pace as I travel along the road.

Where is this urgency coming from? Have I wasted too much time as I've moved along this road. I don't remember. I am scared. My heart pounds and the pit of my stomach crawls with anticipation, I sense danger as it slides past unseen. What is that feeling? I feel confused. Have I been to this place before? Deja vu hits me, this fear I have felt before. It is the unknown that crawls beneath my skin, slithering it's way into my cells, making me sick with nausea. I know where this nowhere land is, the fear reveals itself without shame nor remorse.

It is the future. I feel powerless in the face of her blank stare. A face, which seems so featureless and absent yet somehow beckons attention. I feel compelled to gaze into those hidden eyes. My gaze is drawn to hers as she glares with vicious eyes, shining obsidian with a menacing lustre. The wide black eyes of an un-knowable world. It scoffs with an inaudible laughter as it draws me close and opens a portal where I can peer through the darkness and into what might be. A world beyond, which coalesces with what could have been and what has been. A non existent world, however the lustful whore seduces me to peer into the mirror with "future" smeared across it in red lipstick.

The future reflection appears real as I look into the crystal for some detail that will serve me. All I see is a past and I am mortified that the future could be so identical to what has been. There must be something wrong, perhaps with me, that the future doesn't change and all that changes is the cycle of years. The dark whore laughs at me as I fall back into the here and now. The jeering laughter mocks me with the question "What did you hope to see?"

Imagine - No Religion

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