Saturday, November 1, 2008

DOMINION

this is an anthropomorphic answer to every measure of control that i have grown to despise.they call it teenage angst.immaturity.irrationality.complacency.i call it my terms.i refuse to grow up.call it crap.call it some kind of monster.adds to my pride.adds to the limited worthiness i claim in a fruitless and purposeless life.







sweat blocks his vision.blurs everything out.much like how his future loomed up.unclear.hazy.unfinished.unfulfilled.like a series of bad loops veering into infinite patterns.vagabond.tramp.some loose end of an ambiguous junkie's spaced out soliloquy.lack of sense.purpose.reason.



existence? was that it?.the sweat burns thru his eyes.the opacity of it all obliterates the pain.ignites the anguish.win.lose.don't give a fuck.become a vegetable or a space monkey.pull a lever.push a button.do nothing.what made a difference?did anything make a difference.would anything make a difference? was he even trying?did he even want to try?


he reaches out to grab a protruding rock and dares to look down.the objects seem at a distance.and it ain't a rearview mirror either.he'd give it a hundred feet tops.bad day?bad rock face? probably both.neither the time.nor the occasion. was it control?was that it?


wake up.snap out of it.another fifty feet to go.would it help?get a foothold.pull.move.pitted against the elements.against gravity.against prudence.against the norm.would it work?the unknown lay beyond.death if he didn't try.he wanted to try.some measure of control.seiving the random thoughts into a cohesive mass.shape.structure.plan.move.avoiding certainty.making a choice.explore the realms of the darkness up ahead and more importantly,within.the laughing medusa atop the unknown suddenly suppresses a hiccup.enter murphy.the force retaliates.the force conspires to keep him in the matrix.his hand slips.he goes grinding down on the steep gradient.slits an eyebrow.loses a fingernail.lacerates a shoulder.foothold.stop.




excellent.blood tinges his vision with red.the rock gets washed with red.his finger spurts red.resolve.move.too many decisive moves by the force.time to give some back.he climbs with a renewed vigour.deterred enough.rebuked enough.refurbished and recycled with vague ideas of a foreign control enough.no more.




slowly.surely.decisively.he climbs.not for hope.not for redemption.but for a purpose.for something more than survival.for reinstating belief.for establishing a reason for not falling.for not giving in.for not giving up.for a belief that the future could belong to him.not for shouting from the rooftops to the nincompoops below.not to the sharks circling him.not the ants who feared being trampled on by him.but to himself.to the mirror.to the shrew and the monster within.he climbs.just a little more time.he holds on. winces. cries.bleeds.survives.lives.hates.loves.emotes.feels.


retribution.for himself.for those around him.redemption.for a soul tarnished by unworthy pursuits.no more.all like a monster gestating to come forth.his hand shakes.reaches the top.blood trickles down the rock like a macabre waterfall from hell.hauled up by inertia like a newborn leaving a bloody womb.control.he stands to claim his glory as the dusk salutes him.medusa implodes spattering a complete fadeout on the horizon.he smiles.


a monster annihilates.long live the monster.

2 comments:

Anonymous said...

This one didn't fail to impress either(inevitable) but it seemed un'usual'. Now,usually, I'd be tripping over the words with every passing second, tempo increasing with every line - "dominion" was disappointingly static.
Your blog has the charm of a Pagan artist, Gabriel. I hope its not failing.
May the wrath of Pagan sensiblities always be with you. Until next time.

you just wont know said...

classic.