I am Silent Within the Sound

I walked into the sound, cold lapping out my feet and silence all around.

I walked into the sound, it’s about at my waist now, my problems back at shore and silence all around as I walked that misty morn out into the sound.

The water calm, my heart is still, the sound surrounds, the waves above me now.

All I am is silence deep within the sound, no problems, no worries, my weight is back at shore.

I hope, those that knew me, might forgive me once more.

Repeat

A scratching silence fills my life, repeating repeating an endless loop.

Nothing changes, nothing moves, the needle on the record skips and skips, an endless loop.

Repeating, repeating never moving, nothing new, always used, left behind.

No reason to smile, no reason to be, this endless repeat is all thats left of me.

Graveyard Shift – Retail

“So, you’re starting up tonight at that new clothing store huh? Strange that place has a graveyard shift, but whatever. I’ve heard some stories though, you want to hear?”

“Well first off, you’re not supposed to go in the back, where they keep the mannequins? That’s a nono, manager only apparently. You’ve been back there huh? Best keep that to yourself. I’m not sure why they’re weird about it, but the last girl that went back there? Well, she didn’t fare too well job wise after it.”

“After that, the clothing they sell? It’s all leathers, good leather but still an all leather clothing store open 24 hours? That’s just awkward, yeah fucking creepy really, seeing all those bone white mannequins all dressed in dead skin more or less.”

“Another thing, don’t go messing with the mannequins, those things are normally creepy enough but that place? I don’t know but they give me the…oh shit. Your manager is right there, staring at us. What…oh fuck…fuck…shit fuck hell! Run! Run damn i-”

“Where are we? The store? Why the fuck-oh hell…nononnon-”

The girl’s voice cuts off and your manager stands before you,  a smile stretching their mouth into a macabre grin.

“I have to thank you for being such a dedicated worker, if you wanted to work overtime as a model, well all you had to do was ask. Since you’re doing it pro bono though, I have to say thanks dear. Oh don’t worry, kill you? Oh no, no, none of my girls are dead. They’re out on the floor, just as pretty as you please, see look I’ve kept their faces, why? So you could see them smile. Now dear, hold your breath, it’s your turn.”

“Skin? Oh you’ll have your own lovely jacket to wear, your skin seems smooth enough for it. Don’t you worry about a thing.”

Graveyard Shift

(Just so its here –  strong language and violence after this line)

Hey can you let me in dude? Thanks, you new here huh? You ever work graveyard shift at a gas station before? Just started huh? Well, I’ll tell ya man, it gets strange. I’m not talking someone wearing something funky, or people with just odd habits. We’re talking sci-fi b movie special on prime time strange.

Examples? Well shit, oh hey, just two nights ago had a guy pull in, bought some oil and some gas and some paper plates, I’m not thinking anything of it ya know? Whatever needs some oil, some gas for his mower and some plates, no biggie. Then, then it gets strange.

Some creepy as dogs, think they were dogs anyway, they start barking and baying, and the place gets cold, like I wanted to go into the beer cooler and warm up cold. The lights flicker and all of sudden that guy outside has all that stuff in a super soaker and I’m just seeing these balls of flame and hearing yelping and I’m thinking, I’ll call the cops. Doesn’t work, phones are out, shoulda been obvious right? No dude, no shitting ya phone was out, not even a busy signal. Then one of those mutts burst in through the window, seriously ask the manager, he’ll tell ya drunks did it but you should be knowing better if you’re working here.

Where was I? Oh yeah, so I’m covered in glass and that things blood and it fucking burns man, it’s like I got bleach on me and that guy comes in, douses me in alcohol, and sets the other thing on fire. I’m thinking I’m toast, literally, this guy is gonna light me up. He just smiles, hands me an envelope and asks if any of em got to me. I tell him no, he nods, says to give that to the manager for repairs and what to say and he tells me if I see someone looks like they got bit not to let them in. Apparently it’s like some vampire shit ya know?

What? Me? Oh well, might have lied. Really shouldn’t of let me in dude.

Cause I’m fucking starving.

 

Scarecrows (Muffled Cries)

The family stands in the field, the cold wind of the northern farmlands blowing across their faces as they look at their start towards making a scarecrow, muffled cries can be heard.

The father turns towards the two children, he hands them a coat with a smile, the two children and put the coat on the scare crow, muffled cries can be heard.

Smiling the mother hands them a hat, a large hat, but its something they’d wear to keep the sun off the their face, the children put the hat firmly on the scare crow’s head, muffled cries can be heard.

The father pulls out a tool, to the give the scare crow the proper face. The muffled cries get louder and the children smile. They make the face, the muffled cries getting weaker until they go silent.

Now only the laughter of children remains, as the cold wind blows across the form of the new scarecrow and the children’s faces. Father drags the old scarecrow away, silence remains now, and the children go back inside. There is no more muffled cries, only weeping and the wind.

A Reading  (Read by me)

A Return and Recognition

Shuddering shaking and shivering in fear, the tapping, tapping that I hear so near.

The fear has returned, my bloodied muse at my back, her tortured hands upon my neck as her twisted  face a broken smile  of recognition.

Such a saddened thing at the return of my grim fate.

Lashed to the page, chained to the well, my pen drips the black ink, the color of my soul that I know so, so well.

My form ephemeral, my purpose not set, I am the writer, to my muse, a fond pet.

She neither cares for me, nor clothes me, or sees to my feed, for she devours not but fear and twisted dreams, and it seems, to me, expects myself to do the same.

My (In)Stability

Writing without wanting, writing without will, I turn out another piece of garbage, another piece for burning-I can’t rhyme, I can’t reason, I don’t know why. Why do I bother? Why even try?

I feel it shouting, screaming, taunting laughing “YOU CAN’T! YOU CAN’T!” as it shouts in glee and tries to hand another razor blade to me. “You’re worthless and weak and won’t amount to much, look how many you’ll help if only you put a little touch, a tiny bit of red across that pale wrist, they’ll hardly notice you’re gone, you’re really not one to miss.”

I hear it shouting and screaming and laughing at me, this doubt that I live with, every damning day, every day it screams and screams, waiting for me to see. Waiting for me to know as it does, my purpose is nothing, I’ll never amount to much, a little bit of red really should be the final touch. It’s not very poetic, it’s not my best work, but really my response is short and simple and something that works.

Fuck off.