|Goodbye dear friend, we will meet again.|
circumventabuse the soul to challenge the mind to reap the reward that wills the hand to abuse.circumvent by RUNNrabbitRUNN
look like a confused dog at you;
panic looks different in everyone.
View.IVIEWSView.I by RUNNrabbitRUNN
Fade in from black.
View: in shadow, beneath a table in a small trailer home. A teenage girl’s profile in silhouette, slack, prone on the floor. There is an air of something wrong. Muffled noise. Something flies across, beyond the girl.
In the background, a pair of heavy, black dust-laden boots pass by in determined haste. There is a deafening din of violence; glass and crockery exploding against walls and the floor, sounds of struggle, climaxing in a guttural howl.
Then, silence. Stillness. The dust settles.
The boots return, slowly, pausing in the background, vaguely labored breathing from above. Droplets of something red hit the floor about the boots. There is movement above. Wetness glints darkly as one boot turns out.
A male face, long and stubbly peers carefully beneath the table. The whites of wild eyes burn brightly in the dark. His jaw rolls open. He reaches out and under, grasps a limb and drags the girl out.
In the light, a blood trickle glints from her nose. The
sleepwalking thru fallthe area i tried to compromisesleepwalking thru fall by RUNNrabbitRUNN
the sunset has left me blind
i don't worry i don't worry
i don't worry about how much i worry
spend all time behind movie screens
seeing movement as raindancing
i've never i've never
i've never seen this place before now
watching nervous fingertips
skilled across satin necks
i don't think i've got this right at all
sleepwalking thu fall
8BallHe exists somewhere along K Street and Elm.8Ball by RUNNrabbitRUNN
A strange ghost with absolute and feral eyes. He is emaciated thin. Hollow. Gaunt. White, waxy pallid. Dirty blond in an impervious and meticulous spiked wave across the top of his skull. Shrouded in discarded black denim, arms bare, jacket-vest open exposing a strip of concave, smooth, particularly sallow torso. Boots black and thick. About his neck found, shiny trinkets on a length of dog chain locked there forever with a tempered steel Masterlock with no key.
A frightening and weird dog in a cold, unstable, dilapidated city.
Echoing an undomesticated animal with a white-blue sunken stare a thousand miles far and wide, he appears out of place and out of step with all else around him. He commands it like a Viking.
He is unreadable. Shows no sign of anything representing cultured and moral humanity. He is a compressed wolf, super-focused, ultra-quiet. Contained, maniacal derangement.
There have been old women from the Old Country,
Orbital templeOrbital temple by RUNNrabbitRUNN
It was quiet perfection.
Inventory but passionate.
i felt his orbital bone.
i’m certain he felt temple
opened my eyes. oh so
too close, but clear.
a clear Blue iris begged.
pupil enlarged, begging, pleading.
His eyes implore me.
He impresses with deep blue ocean
eyes as navy eves in the midnight dark.
evergreen ivy pulling me down down
down to the ground
black pools in asphalt vacant,
following the rain down down
down into the streams,
into rivers and
mocking His color.
how i wish i knew the taste of Your thoughts,
so sweet like brandy-warmth.
my only weakness is Your sight.
my cast of characters ache for me, said.
my cast of muse and blood tumble the sky and sea, said.
destruction at it’s finest will wring from me sweet surrender, said
had You been there,
had You been real,
You would’ve witnessed my ruin.
and thus been c
DAY DEVIDES NIGHTDAY DEVIDES NIGHT by RUNNrabbitRUNN
DAY DEVIDES NIGHT
The phone ringing ended sleep. An intrusively brutal digital jangle that pierced through slumber-numb ears.
I woke in an odd position, sprawled awkwardly to one side almost hanging off the edge of the bed itself, my back aching from the contortion and…
…And Andy! His short salt and pepper hair, eyelids shut asleep, and the distinguishing bridge of his nose. Curled tightly against me with an arm draped over my ribs, the way couples would sleep. Lips parted as he breathed softly, warm against my throat. I lifted my head slowly and stared at him with curious surprise. He looked peaceful, contented, his expression soft and fine. Momentarily, at least.
With my movement, though, and with the incessant digital tone of the ringing hotel phone, Andy stirred to consciousness. He lifted his head from the pillow, from my shoulder, and looked at me with drowsy eyes. A brief moment of confusion. Then he jerked up and away from me as if scalded. His eyes wide, s
LAST CIGARETTELAST CIGARETTE by RUNNrabbitRUNN
I sat out on the pool deck of the Sea Sprite hotel late on a Sunday night in June, watching the moonlight dance on the waves crashing against the beach. It was quiet, empty and a little cold. Wisps of marine layer traced the sky, obscuring the stars, scenting the air damp. The cherry of my Winston 100 burned brightly, dancing streaks in the dark.
My world heavy, I’d come out here to ignore myself, and maybe try to destroy myself a little more. The six pack of Corona Extra sweating beside my deckchair.
Sundays always felt sad these days. Lonesome. Visually pretty, but mentally depressing. Sundays meant some kind of end, somehow unknown. I sighed heavily, tugging on the bottle, and smoked.
From the foyer I heard soft footsteps that suddenly hesitated, but then proceeded closer. Rarely did anyone come out to the pool deck after ten. In my periphery, a thin man appeared to my left. I looked up, finding a sharp-featured aging face with shy blue eyes that had been
Hallucination Uncle Duke on Vegasseveral years ago, i was extremely sick for several weeks with what would turn out to be some kind of blood infection. during this time, i hallucinated quite a lot; the most potent and poignant one being an argument i had with what appeared to be Hunter S. Thompson (aka Raoul "Uncle" Duke) over who exactly was the hallucination. this, despite illness, has stuck with me over time and i tend to slip into Uncle Duke's written voice on occasion.Hallucination Uncle Duke on Vegas by RUNNrabbitRUNN
today, prompted by a friends observation upon current-day Las Vegas (coupled with the nightmare that is Circus Circus) and referencing Hunter S. Thompson, i surmised what a piece of my brain broken by high fever would pose.
"Uncle Duke would cringe, he'd ponder, huff some ether, eat some acid, and say that it is exactly what the American Dream has become=a worn out 2-buck whore, slap dashed with designer make-up and knockoff haute couture, all just to RageQuit QWOP it's way into the next century. (altho, i kind of doubt he would've known about Rage
fore closurewhen friends move onfore closure by alapip
before they die
then time moves on
much further on
before you learn
what can one say
besides "there was a day"?
when your friends die
before they've gone
you're caught off-guard
what can one say?
what should one say
to not end up
all mired in yesterday?
years ago i somehow learned
don't get too close, or you'll get burned
llp - dA - jan2014
Stubs of a Cigaretteopaque tendrils whispering—Stubs of a Cigarette by LightOverpowers58
vaporous poison clogging airways
choked by outlawed sentiments
slogging through azure veins
fleeing a traitorous organ; thrumming
[ming] [ming] to a hidden metronome—
winding haze stimulating snippets of
simpering emotions conspiring the
ultimate coup d’état; the metronome
staggers …an illuminated stub weaving
maleficent murmurings and swirling
stuttering sidebars; the metronome
forfeits, refusing to save a cluttered organ
cigarette stubs..ignited at single ends;
convalescer of stress, debt caller of life.