None

I haven't written anything here in a really long time. I guess one could say that my muse left me. Or another could say that I just simply don't have anything to talk about anymore. But, in pure spite of my muse, I am going to try. Cold turkey. Something new. Something fresh. Right here. Right now. In the wake of Harley's nightmare she's having on the floor next to me, I will usher into a world of unknown meaning, searching for clairty. Searching for a look, an insight into the old me. The poetic me. The me who had opinions and feelings, the me who didn't just let any good idea come and go. Pass right over me, like the angel of death. The blood must come down off my door. I don't want to be saved anymore. I want to feel again, whatever pain, whatever joy. I want to feel. I want to write what I feel. I want to be expressive again, not a empty bottle full of ugly air. Ugly, unhealthy, unpure, transparent air. So without further ado...my improv masterpiece.

(Thanks to Mallory for the idea)


Circles circles circles
Round and round
Hit the ground
Or fall endlessly until the nervous tic wakes you from your nightmare.

Nightmarish.
Life?
Or simply the circles we find. We lose. We find.
No, life.
In the city I call home. I don't even live there anymore.
With the exception of holidays, weekends, birthdays, baby showers...
whatnot.
The sheets are usually clean, the fridge is usually full.
I am always loathe to leave.

While I sleep I see it.
I walk...
Circles, circles.
I walk quickly, quietly.
There is no noise. Not even the sound of my feet beneath me.
But I move quickly.
I am full of nervous glances, over my shoulder.
To the this side
To the other side
Constantly moving
My vision is never settling.
My feet never stop moving
Silently.
I look down at the wrist with no watch.
I am running out of time.
How do I know that?
(I don't know how I know that.)
And the eerie feeling is upon me again.
...I have felt this way before.
Something familiar in it.
So I keep moving.
Quicker now, if that seems possible.
Usually it isn't.
What was that noise?
What was that behind me?
Nothing, there is nothing there.
Streets that are empty.
A dead wind blowing, that is dank and smells familiar.
I have been here before.
Stop.

It's almost upon me now.
A shortcut comes and I take it
Against my better judgement I take it.
I find myself in the middle of a graveyard.
Hurry...
Hurry.
Brianna. Hurry.
I don't know why I hurry.
I'm still checking.
It's compulsive and I cannot grasp it.
Where is everyone?

Walking now. Faster...Faster...
Hurry... wait.
Times up.

Your too late.

It's upon me, and I know its coming.
I try to close my eyes, but theres no use when they're already closed.
I can't squint away the nothing.
It swirls around me in a panoramic view...chaotic.
It never stops. Then the noise...
Loud. Loud. Loud.
A screeching.
A howling.
Laughing.
Menacing.
Teeth grating.
Finger nails breaking,
Teeth chipping.
Bones cracking.
Visions plow through my head, making way for the harvest.
Flashing
Constant...
The noise it never stops.

I am able to run now, and I do.
Everywhere I look they come.
They rise up out of the grave.
They look at me as if they know.
I cannot fathom what they want.
I turn right and he's staring at me.
I try to run forward and she's blocking my step.
I trip over backward and realize the log is unimpressed,
pointing, laughing...
criminals.
I run.
I scream.
Brianna. RUN.

Tears blind my vision, but not enough to block them out.
Screeching, hissing, screaming, yelling.
They won't stop. They can't stop.
I don't know how to make them.
I don't know what they want.

I wake up.
Sweaty. More dead than alive,
I can't control my breathing and I wonder if this was what it wanted.
I am afriad.

This always happens. I cannot control it.
I cannot make the circles stop.
I cannot tell where the street starts, and where the ditch ends.
Where does the East divide from the West.
What seperates me from them?
I am afraid.

Slowly, I crouch down to the floor.
The ridge I used to rub, still soothes me.
Still breathes. Still warm.
It is still there.
But I cannot go back to sleep,
I know what beckons.
Their hiss is in the vents,
their screams in the train outside.

They never leave me.
They're always waiting.
For one day when,

I will run out of time.