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Kaiden Blake
29 March 2009 @ 09:13 pm

A breakdown cannot be beautiful with thoughts that behave like monsters.
Kaiden Blake
29 March 2009 @ 04:17 pm
It should be illegal to say "Don't worry, someone out there has it worse than you."

That's comparable to someone spilling their guts out and hearing "Well, the sky is blue."
Kaiden Blake
29 March 2009 @ 02:38 am

If only to face another day.
Kaiden Blake
28 March 2009 @ 09:43 pm
I saw ideals swimming alongside blood cells as I closed my eyes to a sea of red.

They said tonight, I'd be better off dead.
Kaiden Blake
25 March 2009 @ 03:48 am
New free-write. Tonight, sanity was short. Thoughts were irrationally rationed.

I, I, I. You and them. Where is "us?" Where were we? Parasites to dismantle my abilities. Trapdoors without dead-ends, tunnels full of revelations revealing a chain of one way exits all with my name. Where were you? Where was I?

You, you, you. My mind. Your mind, but not ours despite the hours that have passed. Weeks, months, years, decades, centuries - what is time? Calendars are merely calculators for letters that seek redemption.

Just a little stir-crazy. Sanity was a test at birth, thought I'd circle in all the bubbles. No, I came out of the womb tongue-tied. Where was my voice? I'd receive it, but only as an allowance. Vocal chords sitting in the corner, time out. Too much time out. Time in, jab your fingers into the palm of your hand or your fist against my flesh. They're only bruises, though the current cruises. It's been a thousand miles and I'd like a check-up or to check-out. Nobody puts baby in the corner, though childhood corners I cut while I aging. "Only a number" was etched into my slumber until the days and nights had merged. Dark circles under my eyes to match the skies, and my, you were fond of fashion.

Yes, no. No, yes. You see? You don't see. See. See me. Me see, or I see - another rule to follow. Another slap across the face, what's left to deface? Age like wine while left to whine. It was only a number, even with 20 years of separation lending itself to desperation. I was merely an obstacle when you entered the course, oh intercourse, just another hurdle for you to climb and claim the prize. Tantalize. Contending for a contest without consent. I saw through hat full of paper slips, despite your slips. Slip-ups are inevitable when all entries are identical. I called a silent jury and clumsily dropped the case, inefficient to stop you from the chase. Denial summoned more memories to the trial, all the while time became senile.

Kitchen appliances aren't proper dwelling areas for body parts to lounge, though my brain's recipe was critical to your wiring. Tourniquets short-circuiting long after the power is out. Sparks invisible to inspectors like metaphors schemed by grand directors. A silent film with voices dubbed over, compliments to the audience. Disservice is service if only to add sound to a moving mouth. Violent verbalization.

Me, me, half. Two halves not fitting a whole; a hole. Architecture influenced by the demeanor of quicksand for a more naturalistic approach. Afloat, but only treading. Desirable dreading. Smile to please, please. Proper etiquette for mourning. Coping in the form of table manners. Every individual poised with impeccable symmetry while each is served a different meal. Eat up when you're full, hunger isn't forgiving while your insides tug and pull.

I, me, you, they, he, she, it. Not us.

Never us.
Kaiden Blake
24 March 2009 @ 02:22 am

Upgrade or downgrade?
Kaiden Blake
23 March 2009 @ 03:19 am
The gravel and sky had befriended one another. After concluding the regular patrol duty rotation, I found myself walking on air. I was seven years old, and a simple blue sky had meant more to me at that ripe age than it dare mean to me now. Clear skies were always level playing fields; no interruptions in my train of thought, no obstruction to point my finger at. Literal and figurative meanings had meshed into one, resuming the role of adaptation. Life demands a constant casting call for the role of the fittest; dramas dripping with dopamine, warding away the fiend.

I suppose I never thought I would exist during the same moment lions had begun to tame their masters. A circus is meant to be filled with gallant atrocities waiting for a flesh-filled audience to devour them with their eyes and vocal chords. Nowadays, the stands are used as balance beams while contractors scream infidelities from tightropes. From outside the tent, all living creatures are the same species yearning to relinquish their plastic confines.

A circus tent is similar to that of a ward. Padded walls and pin-stripes to offer a diversion. A separation. Though the division is successful at mockery, it is merely a fool beneath another layer of separation.

My tantrums had caused rainstorms, and I quickly learned nearly everything in life comes full-circle.
Kaiden Blake
19 March 2009 @ 03:13 am
Begging you to lock me underwater
I don't speak the language of keys
and when you asked me to swim
I found myself at the bottom of these seas

I don't mind if I'm drowning
I'll just pull you down with me
and if I'm not here tomorrow
You know where I'll be
Kaiden Blake
18 March 2009 @ 12:17 pm
Chapter one: I woke up.

Shaking off the last signs of slumber, I meandered my way into the next room. My nonexistent cats were barking. The dogs were meowing at me while emerging from their litter boxes.

My day ensued with events chaining along with one another; events that could never normally coexist. Each scenario taking a beating at my regime of normality, while inadvertently settling for less.

The next chapter: invincibility.

I classified my entire being simply as "alive." Without warranting some form of validation. When I found concrete material, I went through the spectrum of happiness until tears were shed.

Chapter three, or four (they tend to blur now):

I feel naked, though not ashamed. I feel the effects of bliss, though I have no intention to come down.

Chapter ___; The dream state.

Cannot construct sentences. I've surrendered, and the white flag is now used as the canopy above my four-poster bed. Possessive adjective: our. Our.

The end: Is only the beginning.
Kaiden Blake
17 March 2009 @ 05:05 pm

So this is what it feels like. Effortless euphoria.