Comments Posted By vhee

Displaying 1 To 23 Of 23 Comments

solution

There is a point in time where all that envelops you is the process behind the question. The solution is no longer important; the “why” of the situation washes over you in waves, bathing you with should be’s, would be’s, can and could be’s. I light a cigarette and take a heavy drag, relishing the searing smoke that rushes down my throat. The nicotine is intoxicating. The tar coats my lungs, and I wonder why it is that I never stare straight forward when thinking. I focus on a point not actually there, staring through the street lights and trees at an object that is purely a construct of my own reality as if creating an answer is enough. It never is. The body sits, but my mind soars into minute cavities, sifting through the dormant thoughts rotting away in alleys littered with discarded ideas, hoping to come across one that fits. “Rubbish,” I think. “It’s all trash.”

The setting sun is unavoidable. I finish my cigarette with the advent of darkening skies and conveniently nick myself on a broken thought. It’s name is Alexandra, and I smile, and bleed, and the blood is gushing as I cradle my hand with my lips and whisper her name into my fingers when the prayer goes unheeded. And the blood continues to flow thickly.

I gag on the taste, but it is bittersweet, and I do not want to forget. I cannot forget. It is a sticky sense of fear that oozes down my back and clamps into my gut, and the attempt to scrape it off, futile. So I sit and wait for it to pass, and it refuses. What better refuge for the demons of attachment than within the origins of them? I wish to eat myself, to swallow my being whole and disappear into myself, to erase myself from myself and become whole, or a hole. I cannot decide which would be preferable, and am too cowardly to act upon my desires. So I sit, and wait, and let the ache consume me until it is all that remains. I have found my solution.

» Posted By vhee On 10.23.2012 @ 3:59 pm

retrieve

Someone, please help me. I don’t know if I can do this anymore. Not alone. I’ve lost my mind somewhere along the way on this long, dusty trail, and now that the destination looms ever closer, I’ve finally come to my sense and began looking in earnest for what I’ve misplaced.

I’ve earned this reprieve. It’s been a long five months, and I deserve this moment of clarity.

I picked up smoking the other day. You never really think the act of slowly wanting to kill yourself might seem attractive, or something that you decide that you’ll do, but fuck it. I’ll give a whirl. We’re all going the same way anyway, some of us faster than others. Maybe I’ve decided to start jogging.

» Posted By vhee On 05.24.2012 @ 3:34 pm

monitor

“It’s a fascinating effect. Laid out in front of me are seventy eight black squares, all of varying widths and sizes. Inside these squares are inscribed runes in white, all in different shapes. Pressing one of these squares elicits a response from the other end of this large affixed mirror, powered by lightning inside of this box.” He pauses a moment to adjust his glasses. They are scratched, as if he doesn’t take very good care of them. He’s a quack, I decide. A loon. What kind of educated man fails to care for his glasses? Lightning in a box, indeed.

“So what exactly is the purpose of this box, Doctor?”
“I haven’t the faintest clue!”
Madman.
“Isn’t it exciting though? The implications are enormous!”

» Posted By vhee On 05.22.2012 @ 11:35 am

insect

“Have you ever had a conversation with a statue?”

My ears perked up. Here it goes, baby. This is how it starts.

“A what?” Emile leaned in, eyes locking onto Andrew’s. His hands were clasped tightly in front of him. Nervous.

Andrew rubs his knuckles. He glances at me before quickly taking a sip of his drink, and smiles tightly into his glass. “A statue. Have you ever had a conversation with a statue? They sit there, all high and mighty, unmoving. They think themselves great works of art.” He drains the rest of his drink before slamming his glass on the counter. “Little do they know that we can smash them as if they’re bugs. An insignificant fly.”

» Posted By vhee On 05.14.2012 @ 8:39 pm

separate

You come home one day and your family is no longer your family. I don’t remember exactly when it happened. They laugh the same, talk the same. They look the same. Something intangible to the naked eye has shifted. It’s not that you don’t make the effort to try to keep things the way they were, but you might as well be smashing a star shaped block against a square shaped hole. Something no longer fits in the picture, and slowly you realize it’s you.

You begin to wander, drifting around in a creaking old jalopy as it sputters it’s protests at you. The parts don’t fit exactly right. It needs a new paint job. It leaks oil from time to time. Sometimes it refuses to start all together.
“I’m tired!” it moans. “Why-hy-hy-hy are you be-hee-heeing so difficult?”
You jam your key in further and slam your fist against the wheel, as if that’ll get it going.
“I don’t know what else to be.”
It roars into action as if acknowledging it’s been beaten, screeching into the night.

You continue to drift, searching for other lost souls. You peer into their eyes, searching for that spark of something. The spark of sameness. The spark of sadness, of solidarity, of solitary. The spark the spark the spark. Always searching for something. Never satisfied with what you find – if you find it at all; always looking for the next answer.

Story of my life.

Sometimes you find them. The bond occurs almost naturally, as if you’ve known each other for aeons. You can almost hear the clicking as the pieces of your conversation fit together. You complete parts of each other. Both basking in the other’s weirdness, you drink it in with desperation. You feed off each other, reveling in child-like wonder at the possibilities the other possesses. It’s never enough, but it’s enough for now.

Most of the time the eyes are dead. The spark has gone out, or was never there to begin with. With soft words you lay them to rest, and slowly detach yourself from them as gently as you can. They don’t understand why.
“What did I do?” they ask.
“Nothing,” I reply.

» Posted By vhee On 05.01.2012 @ 11:55 am

poster

Lost child, seeking another. Inquire within.

» Posted By vhee On 04.27.2012 @ 1:27 am

chapped

“It literally chapped him in hayaff!”
“What? It what?”
“Chapped him! Right in hayaff!”

I let this swirl in my head for a moment, drifting around until it finally connected.

“Oh, it chopped him.”
“S’what I said, innit? Chapped him!”

I never could get hang of that heavy southern twang.

» Posted By vhee On 04.24.2012 @ 1:28 pm

scorn

Her eyes drop. She has said the wrong thing again; she can see it in his hands as they make their sharp, harsh motions. He doesn’t say anything to her, but that’s almost worse than if he’d been shouting. At least then she’d have his voice, his anger to clasp in her hands and squeeze the venom out of his words – at least then she’d have something to work with. But the silence! So she breaks it, quivering and low, anticipating the backlash that is sure to come.

“Do you need any help with that?”

She trails off as his eyes flick to hers, penetrating them with his hatred. Her eyes drop. He hates the sound of desperation in her voice, and she does too.

» Posted By vhee On 04.23.2012 @ 12:44 pm

entrée

It has been several days since I last saw you, and my hunger is spiraling out of control. My obsession is quickly becoming insatiable. I am haunted by images of great flashing jaws digging into the vulnerable flesh of my exposed underbelly while you, being the very definition of innocence and purity, cannot understand the tenderness that is merely the appetizer in this dinner for two.

You are hungry too. I can see it in your eyes when you lick your lips and blush, your ears gently blooming crimson in air thick with vulnerability. It is not for me that you present this bouquet, and that makes the wine all the more bittersweet. I am not the entrée you ordered – yet you slice a sliver from my heart, just the same.

“How does it taste?” I ask.

You are silent; the answer is deafening. I am not what you wanted, and it hurts.

» Posted By vhee On 04.22.2012 @ 2:06 pm

desk

Why do you censor everything I write, trite website?

» Posted By vhee On 04.15.2012 @ 3:44 pm

“You have been bitten by God,” they told us, as they jabbed us with their syringes. “Marked from birth, each and every one of you. Flesh and bone bound by divine illumination; disciples to the path of truth with the gift of righteous working. This is a blessing.”

“Blessing?” I thought. If this was a blessing, I wanted to see a curse.

The serum had already begun it’s work. My mind faded to a blank as my surroundings took on a ghostly hue, the fragile couplings of reality slowly starting to fray. They had already placed the manuscript at my desk, and I stumbled down to my seat in a daze. My thoughts slowed down to a crawl, allowing me to analyze the intricacies of each word, slowly turning over the implications of each sentence over on my tongue as I silently mouthed out the words. “I pledge to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth. Truth, in the name of Ruth.”

» Posted By vhee On 04.15.2012 @ 3:42 pm

puddle

I got caught again. “What’s wrong with you?” they asked me. “What the hell is wrong with you?” I didn’t know how to answer them, so I averted my eyes and kept my mouth clamped. It was never anything important, I reasoned. Mostly novels. How could they understand? The adrenaline was a drug, just like any other. I would pretend that I was a master thief, creeping amongst the bookshelves that held treasures lying in wait for me to take. The guards would never notice my hands making quick and silent work of these tomes, I thought, as I stuffed the works of Stephen King down my pants and waddled off as fast as my little legs could take me into some unseen corner, away from prying eyes so I could disappear into fantastic worlds of horrific evils in bliss and peace.

I always got caught. My imagination was no match for the cold reality of CCTV cameras and sharp-eyed bookstore security attendants, and though I never had any traces of evidence on me (for I was much too smart to keep the books on my person), they always managed to find me at the most inopportune moments to carry out their attempts at justice, which consisted of me being dragged to my father for whatever form of corporal punishment he felt fit to carry out that day.

Today had been a particularly bad day for him, and I could see it on his face the moment the security guard left me in his grip. “I’m so goddamn sick of your stupid little antics,” he hissed. I mumbled out a stuttering attempt at an apology as he yanked me by the arm, but it faded away sadly, unheard as he flung me into a chair. He had been drinking sake and I could smell it, thick and oily on his breath as he bellowed his frustrations at my face. I watched his mouth as spittle started to form at the corners. All I could think about was the smell of the book I had stolen; the vanilla sweet scent mingling slightly with the slight undertone of ink. He saw my eyes starting to drift into that dream world and slapped me. Spots exploded before my eyes, and I could hardly make out his angry shouting as my ears rang from the force of the blow, the familiar salty taste of blood flooding into my mouth from where I had bitten into my cheek.

I knew better than to cry. He paused to take another shot of sake and knocked over the glass instead, spilling that precious elixir into a puddle on the floor. He was an angry sea captain in a storm, a raging general in the middle of a war as expletives bounded forth from his lips, taking on a life of their own, conjured in the heart of fury and rage. He poured another shot and flung it at my face. I watched the glass slowly slip as it left his fingers, arching gracefully as time crept to a stand still. I felt the porcelain shatter as it hit my face, and instantly I was numb.

I will never forget the look of anguish on my father’s face.

» Posted By vhee On 04.11.2012 @ 12:18 am

I fling my clothes to the floor. I stand naked before you, under your judgmental eye. I can feel the sweat dripping down my back, puddling in my arm pits. You glare at me. My throat convulsively swallows, and I am so nervous. I wish for this moment to end, but there is no magic in this story. Only that single eye, unblinking. One day, I, too, will be that watcher. Right now I only know one act, and the audience hisses every time.

» Posted By vhee On 04.10.2012 @ 12:05 pm

He was whistling “Singing in the Rain”. That was Darla’s favorite song. Well, what was left of her, anyway. The soft rubber was comforting in my grip, and I found myself cooing as I fondled that aluminum beast. “Excalibur”, the tag read. How fitting. “Home run, mother fucker.” He froze mid-tune. The bat made a tasty, satisfying crunch as it bit into his skull, and the delicious thud that followed was enough. Its funny how people freeze when they get spooked. T-Rex syndrome, I guess. I picked up where he left off, whistling cheerfully as I wiped the gunky mess he’d left splattered on my toy. A puddle of blood had already began to slowly seep from the dent I had left him, and I watched as it as it made it’s creeping progress towards my shoe, reaching towards it as if in some last ditch effort at revenge. Now that wouldn’t do at all.

» Posted By vhee On 04.10.2012 @ 11:49 am

pins

Thumb tacks. Safety pins. Push pins. I couldn’t get enough; I was an addict, and Office Depot was my dealer. I had to lick every single pin that I could get my hands on. It was the sweet, metallic tang that I adored the most. They were sensual, sexy, even; the greasiness of the brass, the smooth click of plastic, rubbing against my teeth. The safety pins were best because, well, they were safe. Until I swallowed one.

» Posted By vhee On 04.10.2012 @ 2:07 am

heartache

She lovingly brushes the heart I wear openly on my sleeve, and the fire in my veins burn. The pulse beats a little quicker, the breath heaves a little heavier, and the mind is screaming as her eyes are pleading with me. “Aren’t you going to say anything?” they ask. “Shut up,” I tell myself. “Shut up. Shut up. Shutupshutupshu-” She smiles sadly, and I find myself suddenly afraid for her delicate lips, as if the very act of kissing them might crush her; crush me. My nerves sing their shrill song, and I grope for the lyrics. I don’t know the words. “You coward,” her eyes whisper. They reflect her hurt, and she is beautiful. The record skips for a moment, and for that single perfect moment, everything is still.

Then the moment passes, has always passed, and the record continues playing. Everything is exactly the same. I blink, and she is gone. I drown myself in a torrent of amber, the liquid gold firing in my throat, searing away the sore, wounded memories of a wicked muse flickering through my Pandora’s Box, and I paint a wounded smile as I greet the numb.

» Posted By vhee On 04.08.2012 @ 4:14 pm

flip

“Turn the mirror over. It’s lying flat on it’s face, and you cannot look through it.” He sips his whiskey takes a slow, wavering breath. “Now flip it back up and take a peek. See your face? No? Neither can I.”
“What does it mean?”
“Maybe we’re ghosts.”

» Posted By vhee On 04.03.2012 @ 8:49 pm

capture

The crackling of a smoothly rolled joint being reveled melded quietly together with knowing laughter to create a melody of careless frivolity, the endless golden afternoons longly ticking, paradise lost amidst wistful hours filled with everything, and nothing. Time wasted amongst youthful gods, and yet those days had held eternity for them. The comfortable silence between hits was clipped only by the soft snipping of camera shutters cutting away at slices of seconds, capturing these infinite smiles and binding them away to be stored deep into that crevice of our hearts we daren’t peek into, lest they shatter for want of those everlasting days. Where had all that time gone?

» Posted By vhee On 03.28.2012 @ 10:14 pm

catcher

“CATCH HER,” he screamed. His nightmare was finally coming true; she was slipping, falling, she was gone.

» Posted By vhee On 03.27.2012 @ 11:25 am

temper

The heavy clang of steel on steel, demanding attention, thrusts its unwanted passion into your ears, driving it home with the steady work of artisans rolling in their craft, tempering their tools of creation and destruction endlessly, ceaseless, never slowing in their need to pound the world into submission. “We are human,” their hammers sang out. “We are, we were, we always will be.”

» Posted By vhee On 03.25.2012 @ 1:23 pm

exquisite

This exquisite creature sitting before me had, with a simple gesture, snared me with her fingers; the lock of hair she was twirling had caught my eye like a cheap hypnotist’s trick. My heart was slowly swirling into that maddening beat she spun out, a veritable maestro of emotions.

» Posted By vhee On 03.25.2012 @ 1:59 am

residue

i lightly brushed the tear away, leaving a residue of ash smeared over her cheek. It looked so out of place there, that streak of black jarring against her cold, pale skin; a jagged scream of emptiness dug lightly into the snow.

» Posted By vhee On 03.23.2012 @ 12:45 pm

fixed

I fixed some souls today. There is a woman in my class that seems to be in her 30’s, and every time I see her I can’t help but to imagine how lonely it must be, to exist in this world where everybody looks frozen in time, to seem as if you are in a different era altogether. So I talk to her, I make her laugh, I make conversation and ask her how her day was. And in her eyes I can see her adoration, her thankfulness that somebody in this madhouse is willing to suspend their judgement, if only for a moment, to attempt to have a meeting of like-minded souls.

» Posted By vhee On 03.21.2012 @ 11:06 pm

«« Back To Stats Page