Me, unleashed.

Days and days and days and days and days. Time flies when you're drunk or sleep deprived. It's all changed and still all the same. In this I am crusading a pointed effort to find an enjoyable equilibrium. So, status quo.

Completely improper,

The suspect in such a 

Crime as this. Tell me,

 

Is it fair to point a finger

At the guilty? Were I to

Lose my mind tomorrow

 

Would you weep or seethe?

Would I find myself staring

Down the tunnel of your

 

Direction hungry appendage?

One can hope. My guilt is no

Longer an acidic stain.

 

Consider it a badge, profound
And founded by the few of us

Who don't mind to take a beating.

 

I'm not sure if you're co

---------------------------

What simple hair, brushed

Aside in flattened waves,

Like the shimmering sheet

 

Of some uninterupted confectionary

Treat. How many hours could you
Cook that swamp before it boils

 

Away? How many days does it take

To settle that kind of score, and how

Many more hours could you spend

 

Staring at the incorrect angle of mirror?

Your boredom splinters inside of me,

And I suppose I shouldn't over correct

 

But what's to one expect when so much

Is expected of him? Me? Oh, no, never.

I couldn't believe the things I see and

 

Begin to wonder along. Tell me, your

Secrets; are they difficult to guess or

Do I need to employ a few of you?

 

Straighten me out.

 

A pack a day, but money for none.

I can smoke more than spend,

But for pleasure it's no sacrifice.

 

My home is falling down,

And I can only hold it for

So long. So instead I'll sit

 

Beneath and wait for it's

Time to come. I don't mind.

I can't afford it, but I'll pay

 

Anyway. I have food to last

Three days and three weeks

Until I can scrounge some more.

 

Oh Heaven, what's my action?

Eat now, starve later.

Regret neither. 

I'm running on twenty one
Hours of reality. It drags me

Down like the burnt tip of a

 

Cigarette. I don't mind, I've

Got no food. I'm digging trenches

For a four sided battle and eating

 

The things I dig up. It's all coming

Together, these days. What an

Effort I give to the people who don't

 

Know I mind their watching. Alone

For the thousandth time this week

I could find no time in these clearly

 

Define battle lines to complain.

In fact, what a sweet degree.

What a sweet life.

What a boring lot you've all turned out to be.

The acrid smell of burnt bones
Floats around my living room.
This is how I know I am no longer

Known. I am not myself or another,
Just disintigrated into small stars
That sit above the roof tops of smaller

 

Men. They pet their dogs and watch me

Sizzle up, supsended in a state of something

Sub-nothing. What a way to go, now

 

I'll never know if I'll be known again. I

May just hang around, float, above the

Rooftops of much smaller men.

I'm tired of living. I don't see the point. I don't think there is a meaning to life. Everything is exactly what it is. There are no meanings behing anything and I'm alive for no other reason than the fact my mother got pregnant. Anything I do doesn't matter because the world will go on anyway and eventually the world will fall apart an there will be no effect. Nothing matters. We are no more than chemical compositions that deteriate and die. Beginning, end. If I'm alive for no reason, then I am living on false pretenses. I used to think I was here to learn, but what's the point? What's the point of anything or anyone? There is no point. We just happened to have to misfortunate of having a fertile place for life to begin and grow. I've considered suicide, but it's cheap. I'll earn my death by living. Besides, it would be foolish to act that impulsively, maybe I'm just missing something. Everything I can think of living for seems to petty. Everything is so small. Emotions are only chemical reactions, and if I wanted chemicals to make me happy I'd just smoke crack. They aren't surreal. It bothers me that nothing is beyond my grasp. Nothing is unatainable and that gives me no hope for being exceptional. I hate being a percentage. A meaningless percentage. It makes me wonder why people are happy when children are born. They should have the funeral then; I'd mourn. Maybe someone can offer me an alternative perspective. If you have one I'd like to hear it.

It's been awhile. I moved out of my parent for awhile and I didn't have a computer. I'm back, for a limited time. To make a long story short, I threw my heart at a women and she drop kicked it straight to hell. No regrets. I lived in an apartment for awhile with two friends, but things got a little crazy, then we got evicted. So, I'm back at my parents and hating every second of it. I guess old people don't change, which is a little sad.

 

I move to Queensbury the fifteenth of next month. I drove up there in June. I drove up about a week ago. I'm driving up again tomorrow. It's killer; five hours each way. I can not manage to find a decent apartment for a reasonable price. What I hear is there's some plant hiring thousands of workers in Albany, which is about fourty five minutes away. They've rented all the places in Albany so they're going to surrounding towns, which means Queensbury.

 

Places are getting eaten up like crazy and I'm at a disadvantage because I can't just pick up a paper and look through the classifieds. The local paper is online but you need a subscription to view it. Apartments.com can only give me so much, so I keep having to go up there. It sucks because like I said it's a ten hour drive which takes an entire day and that's a day I can't work. God knows the only thing that I can't live without right now is money. I've emptied my entire bank account and I still have a million things to pay. My parents are helping me out as much as they can but they're no Rockafellers. Oh well, things will work out.

 

Well, I need to wake up in two hours, so I should probably get some sleep.

He had low expectations. He’d been doing it for years and tonight was no different. Drink away your inhibitions and go home alone. He knew no matter how much he drank, or smoked, or snorted, or swallowed at the end of the night he’d still feel empty. He’d stagger to his front steps and watch as his friends pulled away and he would light a cigarette and stare at the four corners of his porch come to a point above his head.
His first name was Donald, but since early childhood he’d hated it and demanded to be called by his middle name, Evan. He could appreciate the irony. He wasn’t tall and he wasn’t short. He wasn’t skinny and he wasn’t fat. He wasn’t cruel and he wasn’t kind. He wasn’t smart and he wasn’t stupid. He was defined by, “middle.”
That’s where he rode, squeezed between two men in the back seat of a hatchback Ford Tempo, skull occasionally bumping against the glass of the rear window. All five of them, David, Adam, Chase, William, and Evan had been friends since the seventh grade. They had all smoked their first joint together and they had all drank their first beer in each other’s company. Far from inseparable, they fought often but were bound by their unadulterated love for an alternative state of mind.
David, pressed to Evans left side, elbowed him softly in his rib cage. He grinned when Evan turned to face him, “three hours dude, give me three hours and I’ll be fucked straight through.” Evan smiled and nodded his agreement, then turned to look at Adam.
“And you?”
Adam blinked and looked at Evan, “what?”
“How long before you forget how to walk?”
Adam laughed, “I took about a half a pound of Vicodin before I got in this car, so I’d say somewhere around twenty minutes. Hey, Will.” William took a quick peak back at Adam.
“What?”
“How much longer?”
“Like five minutes, drop another pill and shut the hell up.” Adam’s reflexive, “fuck you” was half hearted at best.
Evan watched the first star appear as they turned onto Division Centre Road. He knew; tonight was no different.
They passed acre on acre of vineyards, consistently moving towards a large silhouette of a building that appeared to get no closer. Despite William’s assurances, twenty minutes passed before they came into actual visual range of the monstrous building. Five stories tall with an inconceivable girth, it could rival the largest of the famous Newport Beach mansions. Two months out of the year it’s doors were thrown open to the delinquent youth.
It was owned by the wealthy and idiosyncratic Monroe’s. They had owned a well respected and prosperous winery for the better part of two centuries. By far the oldest privately owned winery in the north eastern United States. The Monroe’s were renowned locally for good wine and better parties. They’re son, Phineas, was no exception to the family credence. Twice a year his parents would leave for a month to find different breeds of wine and processes of creating it. They firmly believed in a diverse selection for their customers. Naturally, young Phineas would use these business excursions as an opportunity to throw a month long party.
This night was the first night of the last of these vibrant celebrations. To Evan, this night was just another night of wasted potential and self inflicted emotional violence. He puzzled over why he had even bothered to come. Then he thought of the alternative, a sober night alone with himself. That prospect was to terrifying to imagine and he chose, instead, to distract himself.
A hundred feet away from the house they were directed to a parking area by a man with a flash light. Stepping (or in Adams’s case, falling) out of the car the five young men looked towards the massive double doors at the front of the house. As they watched they could see easily three hundred people moving towards the entryway. Chase took out a pipe and packed it with weed. They stood around the car and smoked the pipe, watching people shuffle into the mansion like ants into a pile of dirt. When the pipe was finished they began making their way towards the actual festivities.
Evan felt numb. The gigantic home kept getting larger and larger as he approached but he didn’t feel impressed, just empty. In the back of his mind there was a small voice reminding him to have hope, tonight may be exceptional. He silenced it but the small glow worm had already found a place to hide and he couldn’t help but feel slightly warmed by the prospect of a chance to feel something real.
As they passed through the titanic front door the world melted. It was no longer a warm comatose night, but a vivacious deafening celebration of youth. If the house had an aura at that minute its light would’ve been comprisable to ground zero of an atom bomb detonation. Four of them could feel the energy radiating. It built the tempo of their hearts and put a primal scream deep in their throats. Evan was numb.
William, Chase, Adam, and David immediately dispersed into the crowd leaving Evan to stand next to the door and watch as men and women, boys and girls, poured smoke and booze down throats, walls, cups, each other, and themselves. He felt slightly sick. He watched in utter, familiar misunderstanding. He could almost feel the unabashed hedonism come crashing down on him like a wave. His emotional callousness was taken over by an old friend; disgust. It was to much to take sober. He went hunting for a keg.
Slipping through hordes of people that were to excited or to drunk to listen to his polite, “excuse me”s, Evan eventually made his way to what appeared to be the center of the storm. It was an extremely large room constructed with breathtaking architecture. Loud techno music and a roiling mob of dancers defined the room as the main event. A myriad of colors were displayed by the set of lights that had been professionally installed around the room. There was an elevated platform that held three sets of turntables facing out in a near completed square, like some sort of melodic fortification. Each was manned by a chicly dressed person with a set of headphones around their neck. Large speakers were placed in the corners of the room and a pyramid of smaller speakers had been constructed in the middle of the floor.
Evan looked around indifferently, still searching for a keg. He saw a particularly condensed group of people congregating near the DJ pillar. He glimpsed Chase and began making his way over to him. As he got closer he could see Chase was talking to two blondes. One was short and wore to much make up. The other was slightly taller and sported a large gaudy necklace of plastic beads. They both had a primal spark of lust floating in their eyes. Once again, Evan was not impressed.
Evan’s hello wasn’t vocally represented, he announced himself by being shoved into Chase’s left shoulder, inadvertently spilling his drink. Chase spun around looking like he was going to throw the rest of it in Evan’s face. Chase was arrogant; Chase was a fighter. Once he recognized who had run into him his face fell back into a normal state of mere disgruntlement, as opposed to violent rage.
“Sorry about that man,” said Evan. Chase shrugged his shoulders.
“Don’t worry about it, it’s not like there isn’t more where that came from.” Evan raised an eye brow.
“Yea? Where?”
“Next room over dude“
“And where the hell is that?”
“Go straight and take a right when you get to the whale in the tube top,” Chase started laughing.
“You’re an asshole.”
Chase grinned, “I know.” Evan began walking away and got about ten feet before he heard Chase call his name. He turned around and squirmed his way back through the crowd.
“What’s up?”
“Remember Largo from that one party at The Twin Towers?”
“Yea.”
“He’s got a quarter of some chron ass nugget and me and Dave convinced him to have a serious bake session out back in the garden in like twenty minutes. You in?”
Evan smiled, “Chronic?”
Chase winked and grinned, “Bubonic chronic.” They both laughed.
“Alright, come find me. And if you can’t just call.”
“See you buddy.”
“See you.” Evan left Chase for the second time, this time successfully escaping. He walked on looking for a sign of a doorway but all he could see was heads and shoulders and backs. A mountain of flesh rose up before him, barely contained by a tight sequin tube top. He couldn’t help but chuckle at the accuracy of Chase’s directions as he turned right. Sure enough, after another five minutes of contorting his way through peoples conversations and dancing he came to a doorway. Above the door was a sign that simply stated, “drinks.” He walked into a room filled with large blue buckets of ice and kegs. To say that there was a variety would be like saying bacteria is small. Evan didn’t care, he went to the closest keg and filled his cup. Within thirty seconds he had emptied it. He refilled and decided to explore.
There was a door opposite the one he had entered and he followed it through to a hallway. Off the hallway there were about ten doors. He looked through them for a staircase and found one. The staircase led up several stories and he continued on it to the top. The stairs ended at a wooden door and he walked through, this led him to another hallway. He continued with the same tactic, hallway, staircase, hallway, staircase until he found himself in front of a solid wood door, delicately and articulately carved with an impression of a large olive tree. He didn’t turn on the light as he entered, just entered. He didn’t want to know what the room was for, the fact that it was there and dark offered all the consolation he needed. He could clearly see from the light of the stars that almost half of the room was constructed of glass. Walking towards the large windows he looked at the reflection of the stars on the glass and thought again about why he had come. There was a large hole inside of him and he knew no other way to fill it. He was lying to himself again, he knew how to fill it but he didn’t know if he was ready for the pain. He didn’t wasn’t sure how much longer he could keep himself away from himself.
Will I be devoured by my own love? I don’t understand how a man can go so long without an outlet for such strong emotions. The fact that there is nothing for me to pour myself into, yet I still feel the need to give so strongly, what does this mean?
A movement several stories below drew his attention away from his thoughts. He could see pale arms and a head, the negative space of a dark dress. He realized he was looking down on the gardens, and probably some drunken walking callous and his paramour. He looked closer and what he saw surprised him. A female form lay on her back on a garden bench. Not drinking, not fucking, just staring at the sky. He felt it instantly, a heat through his chest and bowels, like he had swallowed the sun. He knew he loved this women and that she loved him.
Before he could regain sentience he was on his way out the door. He ran back through halls and down staircases with destructive speed. He didn’t know why he ran so fast or even why he ran at all, he just knew the pulsing rhythm in his mind demanded it. Emerging in the keg room he maintained his speed, accidentally kicking over an ice bucket. He didn’t stop to look or apologize, just kept running on. He burst into the main hall and immediately knocked over several people. It slowed him down but didn’t stop him. He shoved through the crowd, eliciting screams and threats. Finally the crowd melted away and his course was clear. The quickest route to the outside was a set of French patio doors. Stepping through them he found himself surrounded by large, well groomed bushes. He began looking for the familiar park bench and womanly silhouette. He rounded a particularly large bush and found himself in a small alcove standing behind a statue the size of a man. Taking a step to the side he was surprised by the small park bench he had seen from the house. It was still occupied by the women in the dark dress.
She lay on her back, one hand on her forehead and feet crossed over each other. Her left arm dangled to the grass. She was wearing a navy blue dressed that appeared to be made of silk. He was blinded by waves of pure love flowing through his mind and eyes. He saw her, but couldn’t comprehend her features. He knew she was beautiful.
This was the moment he had run down here for. It was a moment of distilled potential, a latency period between an old life and a new. I couldn’t move. It was as if the statue had infected him with a disease and now he too was turning to stone. He stood, watching her breathe and wanting his emotions to explode into a sky bound scenic display, explaining everything he had felt and wanted to release. He shivered and tried to move. His foot slid forward and he felt his mind return to his body. As he opened his mouth to speak he felt the air move beside him. A tall young man dressed in white entered the alcove and kneeled beside the bench. He placed his hand on the women’s stomach and pressed his head against his hand.
“Let’s go.”
The darkly dressed women stood and they exited the alcove, disappearing behind a turn in the bushes. Evan stood there, breathing hard and wondering why he felt like he’d just run miles. He let his head drop and his hopes with it. Stepping around the statue he looked up at the stars. They burned white with a hint of blue, washing him in faint light. His gaze fell to the statue, a man armed with sword and shield. The inscription read, “Mars, God of War.” Evan could appreciate the irony.
Walking back through the gardens he felt defeated. Like he had risen up to fight a great battle and was left standing, ignored on the battle field. He rounded a corner and felt a hand grab his arm.
“Dude, what the fuck?” Evan stood, looking Chase in the eyes.
“Motherfucker, you scared the shit out of me.”
“Dude, don’t be so sketchy,” David grinned as he stepped out from behind a bush. He handed Evan a pipe and motioned for him to step behind the bush he had just appeared from. Evan followed his motioning and joined a circle of two other men. They laughed and talked while they smoked. It reassured Evan of his place. Once again he knew all he needed to know about himself. He was sure of his place in the world and his place in himself.
They finished smoking and Chase and David told him they were going back into the party. Evan let them know he’d come back in shortly and smiled as they walked away. They were swallowed by the maze of bushes and Evan felt himself sink. His stomach tightened and he knew his momentary distraction was over. Like oil and water his mind slipped and fell over itself, never quite meeting or connecting. He regretted getting high, he still felt low and now he couldn’t even think properly. Rising up from the bench he made his way back to the party.
Back in the keg room he filled another drink and found a seat on an untapped keg. There he sat, watching the array of party goers, from drunk to drunker, fill their cups and stumble back to the dance floor. They’d twist and contort themselves in the name of fun and sexuality and every time he felt his stomach tighten with disgust he’d take another drink. A girl took her top off, take a drink. A man threw up on another man, take a drink. The two men began fighting, take a drink. Two women met in a drunken sexually charged kiss, take a drink. Fill your cup Evan, take a drink.
Eventually he grew tired of watching the youthful decadent destruction and took out his cell phone to call one of The Four. He called William first, and though he answered the heavy breathing and moans told him he wouldn’t be seeing him for awhile, if not the rest of the evening. He called Adam next and from what Evan was told he had no idea where he was. He could hear David laughing in the back ground then faux static then a dead line.
He felt rejected, worthless. If these were his friends then why did they push him away? He wasn’t empty or disgusted any more, he was hurt. Fill your cup Evan, take a drink. He wanted to be alone again. He was tired of humanity, tired even of himself. He was tired of pain and confusion and the emotional limbo he’d been stuck in for so long. He wanted it to end. He wanted a salvation, a revolution of thought and feeling. He didn’t think he’d find it there, he wanted to leave. William was his ride, but that was fine he felt like walking anyway.
The front double doors opened smoothly into the curious night air and he started on his way. The motions of walking soothed him, taking some of the tightness out of his stomach. He dropped his cup, he wanted his mind clear. For once he wanted to know how he felt and why. He didn’t want to run anymore. It was a large emotional knot inside him, coalesced and tightened to near incomprehension from years of neglect. All he knew was it hurt, a lot. He hadn’t realized it until just then but he was crying. No, he was bawling. Sobs wracked his body and he wasn’t sure why.
He heard thunder to his left and through his tears and convulsions he saw a white mare. What he had heard wasn’t thunder, but the thundering of hooves. It ran hard, around it’s small field. He could feel the beating of the hooves in his chest and he let it soothe him. Humans were twisted, dirty, the horse was something he could respect. It was pure, running for the distilled ecstasy of feeling it’s muscles give power and receive comfort from them challenging the earth. She knew what she wanted and she reached out and took it, even alone in the dead of the night. Evan felt reverence; he turned around.
Walking back into the party he stalked through the main hall, feeling his natural power emanate. He could practically see a white glow spread through the floor with every step he took. He walked through the keg room and continued to the hallway. He knew where he was going but not why. Climbing the stairs without hesitation he headed directly to the glass room he had found earlier. After several hallways and staircases he stood in front of the door. His hand grabbed the handle and he opened it with confidence. What he saw hit him like a god’s palm.
There was a small light glowing atop a large desk. Behind the desk was the young man in white. He sat, looking at Evan while he smoked a cigarette.
“I can see it in your eyes,” said the man. Evan looked back at him.
“What?”
“You have a gift. You have the capacity to love unexceptionally. In fact you love so powerfully you feel the pain others deal to themselves. It must be a burden, but god what a gift.”
“Who are you?”
The man stood up front behind the desk and walked over to stand several feet in front of Evan.
“I’m Phineas Monroe.” Evan was surprised. He had never met Phineas Monroe, but he hadn’t expected what he’d found. He thought he would be large and stupid, consumed by the need for consumption. A wealthy arrogant aristocrat who couldn’t understand anything beyond what his money could buy. He looked at Phineas hard and what he saw in his eyes was pain. Pain and understanding.
“How do you know who I am. How do you know how I feel?”
“I’ve been watching you for a while. You are exceptional and I am envious. I don’t think you realize how special you really are. In fact, I think you’re denying it.” Evan didn’t stop to wonder how he knew these things, he was to shocked by the fact that he knew them.
“It’s to painful, you don’t understand how hard it is to come to terms with something like that.”
“ I don’t think you understand the opportunity you have. The world is a brutal place and a lot of brutal people reside in it. Yes, I‘m sure it‘s painful but you can breathe the pain in and transmute it to something beautiful. You can love despite the hate that surrounds you. That is a very rare thing.”
“What separates me from you? Why can’t you do this?”
“Eventually my patience and my understanding come to an end. I fight back, instead of accept.”
“If you know this, then why can’t you change?”
“What I know and what I feel are two entirely different things.”
“I can’t give like that, you’re wrong. I have no one to give to.”
“No one?” Phineas laughed deeply. “You have the world to give to, Evan.”
Phineas looked Evan in the eyes for a moment longer, then offered him a cigarette and returned to his desk. Evan took a seat in a long, cushioned lounge chair. He breathed hard and thought. After smoking the cigarette to the butt, he put it in an ashtray and looked at Phineas.
“Who is she?” Phineas looked surprised by the question.
“You know her?”
“No, I saw her in the gardens.”
“If you’d like to know, you’ll have to find out for yourself. It isn’t my place to tell you.”
Evan nodded and stood up to leave.
“I’m glad you understand, Phineas.” Evan opened the door and left.
Walking back to the main hall Evan felt alone and was willing to accept it. He passed an unremarkable door and caught a glimpse of something inside. Looking back in he saw a dark female figure staring out of a window. He stopped and watched her. As he looked she turned around. They stood there, looking one another in the eyes. Evan felt his emotions climax and he pushed them back down. He closed his eyes. He stood there, fighting himself for a long while. When he opened his eyes again she was still there, looking straight at him. She was looking into his soul. He watched her for a moment more, turned, and began walking again.
Evan found his way to the step out side of the front door. He lit a cigarette and looked up at the stars. He could feel their light casting him a shadow, a mimic. The statue of Mars entered his mind and he paid his silent respects. Taking a drag from his cigarette, he began the walk home.