Guest

I hate it when guests linger around. They can’t take a hint. Normally, I’d stand up slowly and take our coffee mugs to the sink, or I’d stretch out my arms and say, “Well, it was so good seeing you!” But, this time I can’t. My guest is still here.

My guest keeps saying the same thing, but I can’t here it’s voice. It whispers, “Remember.” My uninvited guest is the byproduct my life circumstances that I, clearly, couldn’t handle the way my brain wanted me to.

My logical mind talked calmly to me (‘me’ being somewhere other than in the physical realm). He told me it was going to be fine. “These things happen”, “It’ll all make sense one day” and “You just have to get on with it”, all sound like terrific little phrases to repeat. Yet, my guest remains inside ‘me’.

Remember.

I purge my room. Everything that reminds me is stored away, but it’s voice grows louder still.

Remember.

I clean my entire house and delete every photo from my phone.

Remember!

I break. My guest forces my hand. It kicks my legs out from under me and I fall to my hands and knees. Tears burst out to the sound of a broken cry. How warm they are leaking through eyes clenched shut.

Hollow and alone, my guest finally leaves. I finally feel relief! They are gone!

Feeling better, I take a bath. It’s just what I needed. There is nothing more relaxing than drinking the cold tap water while lying in a boiling hot bath. As the water drains I wipe the fog from the mirror. A small smile curves. It’s been a long time since I felt the muscles around my mouth go through so much work.

As I walk downstairs to get a glass of water, I feel something in the corner of my being whisper. Now I know.

I know this guest will never leave.

– By Randall Evans.

Guest

Look Up!

I’m desperate and alone! What beauty there was when we collided, but now I lay staring at the celling. Staring into nothingness.

Pick me up! Let us play and sing!

You don’t know what it’s like, do you dear reader? It’s horrible! For happiness to be completely dependent on an entity separate from ourselves is torture. I was built to transform emotion into music, yet on my own I’m nothing. I’m a tool; rusting in the corner of an old garage.

A strange thing, isn’t it? To have emotion and not be able to express it. I’m literally an outlet with no outlet! I crave to be whole! To be with someone who has the human luxury of being able to express emotion! What a blessing that is!

I despair, and I hope for hope. For what beautiful music we made together! You must understand on some level, for you turned me into a metaphor. When you feel emotional about a movie you say, ‘That really struck a chord with me.’ Well, let me tell you that you have no idea! You have no idea what it’s like to have that emotion as the basis of your entire existence.

Strike a chord with me. It’s been too long. I need you. I’m alone. My strings are loosening and i’m gathering dust.

Dependence. What pain.

When my love returns, I will be free again. Free to feel what I was created to feel. Love.

Ahh, humans. Humans who love in freedom but create their own internal prisons. You don’t know what you have. I have to confess, I enjoy the depression you feel, because you come to me more often. Don’t get me wrong, I’m sure I make you feel better in some small way.

So I’ll sit here and wait until the earth stops spinning. I’ll wait because I’m grateful for the chords you strike with me. Even though sound itself exists only as it passes out of existence, it’s still worth the wait.

Life is short. Don’t let love grow stale and dry. Don’t put love down like me, an old guitar that’s lost its warm tone. Don’t let it’s voice be silenced. Look up! Look up to the sky and scream!

You’re human! You’re allowed to feel!

– By Randall Evans.

Look Up

 

Guest Blog? Free post-age…

I want to grow my blog. As a result, I’m offering my weird voice to anyone. I don’t care if you have 1 follower or 1 000 000. You want a little content, drop me a comment or message.

Give me a subject or a one sentence beginning and I’ll create something. You don’t like it, don’t use it. All I ask is for a link back to my blog.

Sound good? Message me!

Invisible Pain

Invisible pain is rarely invisible. It comes in the form of slammed doors, raised voices or the sounds of a speeding engine traveling far away.

The thought may surface that making logic of emotional hurt is what does the most damage. For if we had no mind, we wouldn’t mind. It’s the process of attempting to make sense of a situation that has no solution that drives the knives deeper into the chest. It’s these logical pathways that plants the seeds of frustration.

The never ending search for an answer to illogical situations drives one insane. Every internal  argument starting with the phrase, “I just don’t get it!”

Solutions to this blackhole of despair is what should interest us, but it doesn’t. Depression and anger, anger most of all, is addictive. Exhausting, yes, but addictive. As I write this with the tone of a pretensions upperclass professor who has never experienced real pain, my fingers shake with uncontrollable ferocity that results from uncontrolable emotion. I like it.

Your blood boils. You feel like riping up everything in your life and bringing it all back to zero. If anyone dare look at me, their blood with pave the streets beneath me!

Pause.

Press the pause button for fuck’s sake.

Solutions is what we should be interested in. The logical solution is that there is no solution.

Indeed, back to professor tone.

To make logic of emotional pain is illogical, but the logic that it’s illogical is logical. Does this open up new ways of coping with the situation? How do we act?

I guess we are forgetting the main problem; Humans are illogical creatures. Illogical creatures must make illogical decisions and experience illogical pain and pass that pain off to others.

Where does this leave us? Do we have any choice in our reactions? Are we snowflakes? Unique from each other in appearance only, but doomed to freeze and fall without any say in the matter? I’d rather melt.

Sometimes I wish to react on instinct and go out in a blaze of glory, but I (think) I know better. I know the boring way.

Put as much time ahead of your reaction as possible. As you can see, this time sparked the initial question. Does creating logic around an emotional pain do more harm than good?

Perhaps internalising creates self pain, externalising creates pain in others. Either way, the pain must be felt somehow.

Did you feel it through this post? I wonder…

– By Randall Evans.

Random Liquid Thoughts

The soundscape of water.

The undercurrent tone.

What is reality ?

These waves ?

Waves from wind, wind forms windows, windows into further dimentions of experience.

Under the surface, a expancive melody plays. Can you hear it? I can feel it.

Wait for the sun to set over graveties prisoner.

Wait for the lights to cast over this earths silk gown.

Mirrored reflections of golden light, ever changing, rolling, burning the back of my eyes.

What a strange idea it is, the idea that an object can float in water. How strange are the ships that carry people back and forth over ever changing, overlapping liquid matter. What is this surface?

What is this divide ?

Two worlds collide.

Flip me over, make me drown…

Don’t look down.

Im nothing but a moving shadow in the sun.

Don’t look down.

– By Randall Evans.

The Beach

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Ash floats through misty sea breeze,
Above infinite sand of memory.
And a mother’s son runs along this beach,
With the water cold beneath his feet.

A revery passage to the other side,
A moment’s mortality magnified.
They built a castle by ocean spray,
Worth more in time when washed away.

Beneath, or within, the expanse of stars,
The beach is alone, but these two say it’s ‘ours’.
The boy, now a man, knows just what to do,
He carries his future; a ring out of view.

Mystery entwined in pure connection,
Introspection, no answers, but new life from affection,
The man smiles in his thoughts of reflection,
Undulating emotion recalls the castle’s perfection.

A mother, son, wife and child,
Surrounded by the sea.
The tide rolls in, her spirit drifts out.
Now there’s only three.

The sunset shines across the sand
Something’s heavy in his hands.
Three long shadows slowly fade
Clouds obscure, the beach is greyed.

She holds her son so the man’s alone,
The cold breeze blowing undertone.
With a breath and a cry the ashes are thrown,
Swallowed into sea, mother taken back home.

Ash floats through misty sea breeze,
Above infinite sand of memory.
And a mother’s son runs along this beach,
With the water cold beneath his feet

– By Randall Evans.

Funeral

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The bitterness of death swims in my blood.
But I can’t feel it.
There’s a dizzying warmth in the room,
Faces from the past share smiles that scream.

Walking beneath the waves, beneath the sea.
Someone took the wheel from me.
We all become part of the same organism.
And this monster is drowning but can never be drowned.

I’m a shell. An invisible shell.
Teary faces glance, but they’ll draw nothing from me.
I’m empty. I’m numb.
The memories haven’t died, he’s here somewhere. Somewhere…

In the corner of your eye you see him.
In the laugh of a stranger you hear him.
The flood gates of pain spill inside.
But I can’t feel it. I won’t feel it.

Why are you laughing?
Where has mine gone?
Why can’t I feel it?
Where are my tears?

Run from the room.
Hide in the corner.
In the darkness of your soul.
Don’t interact. Don’t let them steal anything from you.

Emotionless. Motionless.
It broke my friends.
They are broken like me.
Where is the light?

Death takes the invisible.
The eyes are empty.
The day ends with the taste of women’s tears and cheap perfume.
Please give me piece.

Put us back together.
Let us laugh. Let us cry.
I need to feel.
Was it really I who died ?

Please God!

I need to feel.

I need to feel.

– By Randall Evans.