Misterisaiahos's Blog

Good times, good times

misterisaiahos — Mon, 15 Mar 2010 01:38:11 +0000

I have spent the past month re-connecting with past friends and some which are not so old. I can chalk this up to social networking. Time moves fast and somethings return to crawl it seems when recollecting. Either way this is a welcome distraction from the everyday grind so I am particularly appreciative for the previous nights “vacation.” I wake up today in the late afternoon (damn lazy sunday lyrics), with a raspy throat and feeling sore, but quizzically smiling genuinely for a while. Post intoxication, I can still remember it fondly as a good night to hang out with people I haven’t seen in a while and meeting new people, even as briefly as it may be. Before I sink back into the realities of monday mornings. I’ll take the day off today to relax and reflect. With my batteries feeling they are recharged, I think I will give this blogging thing another chance and pursue more interest that I left a blind eye to.

Fool.

misterisaiahos — Thu, 12 Nov 2009 22:35:51 +0000

There was the man on his knees. Called a king of fools, discarded and tortured in the face of his purity. Only, if they knew that true malice is never born, but created over time. Did you not realize how you can turn compassion into sharp razors? They said once patience was a virtue to admire, yet now it would prove their own downfall. Pain proceeded compliance to all. Hidden hearts crumbled from his stand. There was not even a shadow of who he once was. He took a walk so somber in which the people shivered away from his sight. To them it seemed impossible to see the fool become something more. Desperation traveled to each of their lips. They thrust their precious jewel which caused his public imprisonment in front of the man. He was not very tall at all. She towered over him easily, but something about the way he was today made giants into ants. She was about to speak with such elegant poison. The man closed in to the side of her face sad a few words unheard and moved away from her. She fell behind him almost aging rapidly thereafter. The people all looked at him strangely, the shackles of their intent have faded away and he was someone else. He rose his hand once and said this softly, “I lost my virtue of silence, now be crushed by the gravity of the truth.”

The Call

misterisaiahos — Mon, 09 Nov 2009 08:40:57 +0000

There wasn’t a tomorrow I could see. No people, no sound or a morning which will never come. The colors of my eyes began to fade into a dull shade of neutral gray. A lack of desire to wake up I followed the various lines and dots on the ceiling while listening to the metronome of the wristwatch on the nightstand. A ring breaks the routine. Lazily reach for a phone, I pick it up. I don’t speak at all I hear melodic words from someone I cannot recall or recognize. I smile in jest, the call no matter how erred in its destination was true to give me a reason, a purpose to see a tomorrow. My eyes returned to color and I rose from these mundane anchors.

Skin

misterisaiahos — Thu, 02 Jul 2009 02:16:42 +0000

Morning comes so soon. The days have grown thin with the thoughts that thickened our fears. Men and women on the television make the business of crafting our lives before we live them. Popular trading of despair is hawked in front of children. I see the serrated scars made by the belief of what the normalcy of today is. I see this grotesque being of expectations. I scream, curse and charge at it. Each of my hands burrows in this flesh fortified by slander. Tearing, clawing, ravaging this thing in aggressive glee, I soon see what has brought me terror. Under it all, there’s a rusted mirror distorting the image of ourselves. Neglected because of our own ideals.

Clock

misterisaiahos — Tue, 19 May 2009 22:01:03 +0000

From time to time, man by name of Carter Whitley dreads the moment he wakes up. He slumbers inside a home with no machines or gears and doesn’t even own a watch. Sound of all forms is blocked by the expensive insulation installed. It is an apartment of intimate privacy. He rises from the envolped sheets annoyed by a simpe thing. The sound of ticking. Not bothering to open hiis eyes he shuffles around the room knowing where everything is by routine. Opens a door by the window and turns the faucet open. He opens his eyes facing foward into the mirror. No reflection to be seen at all. A number shows up in its stead: 40. he blinks and he sees himself disheveled and unshaven. he removes the mirror to get a grasp of one of several bottles. He takes a pill quickly and sinks his back to the wall, waiting for it to take effect. He tries hard to smile, but remains stoic for a minute. A scowl forms quick on his face after his eyes are focused enough to see the multitude of old wounds he bears hidden under his t-shirt. He stumbles back into his bedroom, lifts the blinds to show the walls full of photos. Some of them are recent, some old, some written on and others crossed out with marker. He looks around these photos and thinks deeply. Out loud he says, “40 days and I need to know who is going to die.”

The War

misterisaiahos — Sat, 04 Apr 2009 23:26:28 +0000

I shudder of the thought of falling into sleep. Basic human comfort is long lost on me. I am frightened, not by the nation of sleep itself, but in the dreams which it produces. The problem, lies in the morning after waking up. An array of unfamiliar injuries litter my skin. At times it is a minor affair, however there are times which this malady troubles me deeply. Where do they come from? I regret the day I ask the question and dread the moment I took it into myself to find out.
About a year ago, my curiosity got the best of me. In desperation, I searched for the answer to my slumbering affliction. My obsession initially pulled in friends and acquaintances to keep watch over me as I slept. It cost me all the bonds forged with them without any reason. I remember vividly the cold stares of disgust whenever I am within recognizable distance. My own family has cut ties from me from youth, so I could only turn to medical means of help.
Lying on the hospital bed, I could feel the cool touch of plastic tubing slightly placed in my veins. My eyes grew heavy as I drifted off for the morning results. Before I woke, I felt faint motion around my bed. The faint sounds amplified into loud hurried conversations made of words that sound nothing like babble to these ears. Fully roused, I quickly take hold of a doctor’s hand to get some attention and maybe an answer. The moment I touched her I felt the chill from her spine run through mine. My numb, crimson fingers held the hand of surgeon. I fell once again into unconsciousness. I cannot recount how long i was under in thoughtless sleep. What I thought to be latin dialects greeted my long awaited arousal. Blurred vision revealed little of the dark shades ahead of me. Surprise of them approach me caused me to jump sorely from my bed. A resounding score of Hail Marys littered the air around me. Priests? Have the doctors abandoned me as well? The was are familiar and uniform. This is not holy ground, far from it. The veil of black robes is parted by white ones as doctors make their way towards me. The eldest doctor with a grey beard tells me of the predicament I am in. All I can hear is the resignation of him not knowing what is wrong with me. Before a question parts my lips, I gaze over to the bowl full of soiled bandages soaking in the rose red water. I look upon my chest and see that I may have been in a battle I could never of remembered or wanted to take part. Apparently science has failed and they turn to religion. A fucking bloody exorcism! Laughable it is still being preformed. They try for months with no headway. ultimately came a morning which silence those rightous words. A word was sprawled down my left arm in an old tongue: War.
I have been alone since then. A reluctant hermit with a resolution. to the side of me is a syringe filled with enough narcotics to slip me into a coma. Terror is a passing thought at this point. So I can find peace, I have no choice, but to do this. I will meet this head on. I pray to have some sort of victory, but I do not know if I will ever awaken…

What I got

misterisaiahos — Mon, 30 Mar 2009 19:47:52 +0000

I got a mind to think, friends who I would die for.

I got a life left living, unforgiven mistakes

promises piling on my tables from uncertain acquaintances.

I have a will to carry out others dreams, but actions which destroy them.

I got a way to write words willingly unignored

I got the power to control my own fate

yesterdays forgotten and buried in woven sentences.

I have something I cannot describe not even now or then.

What I got is what I got, it’s all I have.

Act

misterisaiahos — Thu, 19 Mar 2009 19:53:23 +0000

These are the days I wake up empty
walk the streets aimlessly without purpose
oblivious through the the hollowness I feel
I exist for no other reason of just being
My steps are forgettable
my words unremarkable
in this sense I am the walking ghost
I am there and not there

In time this feeling will fade to a point
yet at each time I get a little bit closer to it
what it is I don’t know
so when I am back you will see me if you care
wearing another one of my fabricated masks of being

Til the End

misterisaiahos — Thu, 19 Mar 2009 19:52:50 +0000

(slow drums, violins, bass and solo acoustic guitar)

Forever is our dream
yet everything ends sometime
I”ll go with deep regret
to never say to you

(hums)

Til it ends
I’ll be waiting
cause theres nothing else for me

In my hands I held it all
it’s all gone to dust
left alone to face the darkness ahead
let go your hand don’t follow me
it comes for me like it’ll come for you
I’ll go deep in regret
to never say to you

(hums)

Til it ends
I’ll be waiting
cause theres nothing else for me
right here
Til it ends
I’ll be waiting
cause theres nothing else for me

(hums)

I waitied too long
the gray has tangled me
I regret saying nothing to you
I try to touch you one last time
I’ll go deep in regret
never being with you

Til it ends
I’ll be waiting
cause theres nothing else for me
Til it ends
I’ll be waiting
cause theres nothing else for me…only you

(softly as the music is fading)

Unforgivable

misterisaiahos — Thu, 19 Mar 2009 19:52:15 +0000

You did it so many times with different faces. So many ways I was a fool for not seeing it before. You would nest in the chambers that beat beneath my chest knowing, I am a fool. Each time you have left with a piece until you were satisfied on my patchwork failure. I have barely aged yet I felt close to death fom your betrayal. All these performances, masks of content were made from each time you struck me. Each piece was a part of who I was that is missed. I could never have it back to who I was and now whats left is all that I am. This is what is left within those chambers, a rusted pile of resentment and malice held by pain and fear. In regret i let it happen under the guise of some feeling. Shamefully, I know you will come again, but you have always failed to take this small thing from my hallowed chambers. You won’t see it, feel it or know or it until it is too late. It is the hope one day you can rest in my chambers and build me up again.