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Ryan Seth Cole Nov 2022
The glass screen door hits my foot on the way out the door as I pull it close. I pull my jacket down as I enter the cold. I breath in the brisk air and look up at the blue night sky.

My breath fogs the view of a star up high. I fear the day that you will soon some day die. The day of your departure, when you spread your wings and fly.

Your warmth as you held me close to your polyester side, where I would fall asleep on you on that wooden church bench as we would listen to grandfather preach in between sigh’s.

I picture all of this in my mind as I look up at the blue night sky. The table where we would sit and talk for hours about your history and mine. The same table you taught me how to find in me the strength and reason to fight. The same table I told you, I found my wife. That same table you and papa prayed over me when I would cry.

I know your with me now and I cherish you and that is the reason I write. I can’t wait until you walk with Jesus. You have been longing for that day your entire life but I know once your gone I am going to cry.

I told you that I would not. I told you I would celebrate your life but tonight I know as I look up at the blue night sky. I know that I will have to let you go and it’s going to make me cry. I love you Grammy. Thank you for being in my life.
My beloved grandmother
Ryan Seth Cole Sep 2022
I am surrounded by comforts and convenances as I pack the cub-bards, lining them with provisions. Some of which I will not get to before they perish. I pay no mind to the clouds that gather above my head because I will soon walk into the shelter of my luxurious home.

I close the door sealing out the pestilence. the last part of my home barricaded by all the elements. I seat myself in a climate controlled throne where I waste away watching the regurgitation of one talking head to another. I stand at once to pour my cup out into the sink.

I look out the window and see a horizon of red illuminated by the smoke and fires that grow beneath it. I close the blinds and I make my way to the master bedroom. I take off my custom made clothes and fold them neatly at the foot of my bed. I brush my teeth and put on my pajamas as I hear a thunder in the distance grow closer . I turn on my fan to drown out the noise. I then lay myself down and nestle the silk of my pillow.

I begin to fall asleep not quite past Rapid eye movement. I am then ripped from my bed. I am drug down the stairs pulling banisters back resisting my pursuer’s. They’re strength to much to my own they quickly over power me.
My finger nails dig into the decking of my lavish hardwood sprawl. There is no hope for me at this point. I then am hit with a blunt object and loose consciousness.

I awake with a bag over my head and my hands tied behind my back. The dry air and exhaustion from my screams make my mouth dry. I feel insects crawl on me not as an infestation but as a hindering concentration on my hands and feet. I don’t know what they are but they bite me like fire ants.

I cannot shake them loose. Once I do my hands and feet are  bound down by my captors. They shout at me slurs and demand I renounce. They beat me with they’re fist and feet. They grab me up and drag me down a long hall. I am pushed to the floor and then picked up. My head is shoved down as they submerge me in water. Over and over and over again. I begin blacking out because my body is entering a breaking point.

I am then drug back down the hall and cast back into my dark room.
This continues for days as I am being starved. I begin eating the ants that bite my hands and feet. I drink the water I can when I am being dunked over and over again. I begin to try and adapt to this tormented routine. I am far past depression I am numb and I am hopeless.

I am so lonely I try conversing with my captors. They don’t speak in my language so I try to make myself believe what they say back to me are kind and hopeful things.
They demand that I renounce in my language. It is the only thing I understand the entirety of my stay. I sense the desperation in they’re tone they almost seem sad that I am not responding to they’re abuse. I fear they will soon grow tired of trying and end me as a result.

The next morning I awake with a cold blade on my neck. I shout out “I renounce! I begin crying and shouting out; I renounce!” They pick me up and break my bonds and sit me in a chair. One officer removes the bag over my head and I see for the first time in I don’t know how long. Another officer hands me a glass of water and my face falls in shame and relief.
This is the real beginning of my torment.

After giving me instructions and sending me on my way. I …..

To be continued…
Small series. Part 1
Ryan Seth Cole Apr 2022
I hurried up to the window. It was all the way down stairs. The exhaust was at crescendo. By the time I arrived, you were not there. The exhaust fumes that plumed had left a trail in the air. It was cold that morning, I had walked out to the driveway in my underwear.

I came back inside and put some clothes on and tried to move on with my day. But it wasn’t that easy once the argument was there. Any task I would do would compose in the background like the noise of the county fair. Any stranger could become a target should my fuse were to despair.

I try to have more control than that but this morning I did not care. I made everyone around me; suffer with me at the cost of what you bared. It was your fault in the grief we shared  but I won’t admit it. Plus, you don’t care. You hurt me and now I hold the world hostage. Give me my heart back or I will.

I already lost it. And at what point is the damage I received Justified by the pain I inflict upon others? At what point do I look in the mirror and find the fault upon me?
Well if you have read this far you can already see.

Self infliction and escalation we pay to hurry our death.
Ryan Seth Cole Mar 2022
And it still hurts, it never easy to forget.
For what you put in versus what you actually get. Dear Starlight, don’t admit. I think it’s something we both will not regret.

Go on cut me down. Are you seeking that reaction?! Don’t bore me with a useless explanation.

You have my word, there are only lies in my sincerity. Pause in hesitation.
But you lie and look down and try to disparage me. Looks with expectations.

Are my scars worth understanding?
My dreams are scattered and blurry
But there is nothing more real than what’s in front of me.

If you cannot see that, than what does anything mean? Besides if it provides any clarity. Looking back on it has been the best I have ever seen. And something we both do not deserve but have both been getting.

Don’t let it get into your head and fill you with anger and dread. Where you begin to find everything wrong with me and use it like a target because your mad. We will get passed this storm don’t let it make you sad.

I would give anything, I want to start over again. How could I have been so blind?
Where do I begin?

-Letter in a bottle weathered by the ocean salt.
Ryan Seth Cole Mar 2022
I aint no *****. I aint no tinker; like a tinker would think. Im just an old cow poke with no leather to sink my teeth. Been riding for days aint came across the first drop to drink.

Sure is nice of you mam to let me in by the smell of my stink.

You see; I lost my cattle about a few miles back. We got seperated by a sand storm. Boy this coffee is about as thick a pinewood sap. Mam, please dont take offense; I sure do appreciate the gesture. I suppose a cool glass a water might do the trick.

Now as I was saying, I was on my way up from Wyoming to drive a herd for a bargain. Well I guess I would say I got started early this morning.

I got me a ranch out in Laramie. Well actually a buddy of mine does. We started up and then it began storming. I haven’t seen him since. Mam could you do me a favor if he does. If he shows up; could you tell him I have gone to gather up them horses.

Could you ask if he could stick around, what matters is that we’re safe and that’s important. We can regroup in a couple of hours. Head on back on up the trek, make up for lost time and try to save our appointment. If that ain’t no burden to you misses?

I have a soft spot for westerns.This is a love letter to a classic western I used to enjoy
Ryan Seth Cole Mar 2022
Am I even here? I walk throughout and feel so empty. I try so hard to do what is right and even my best attempts are failures. Life never let me down gently. My closest friends betray me and my efforts rarely see any reward.

I am assured that it is not what I do that assures that you love me. I have a standard inside that I cannot even reach. I wake up everyday and try again. Every day I sincerly try. I swear I see the other side but I never get any closer to it.

I am so desperate inside to please you. I am so desperate inside that someone see's me. I have faith and a hope that one day I will see what it is that you see in me. That I find this value or worth that led you to die for me.

You say that you walk beside me and that you have prepared a place for me. I am so eager to be there where I feel welcome and I can forget this suffering. I need you here please dont leave me. I cannot overcome the storm you sent unless you walk with me.

I dont mean to be dramatic or complain or come across as ungrateful for all the blessings you have given me. I just want to be with you in the place with no tears. I want to live and I want to be better than I have ever been before. I want to fish with you on crystal shores. Belong to something greater than me.

Finding strength through failure.
Ryan Seth Cole Mar 2022
A massive weight shifts between my shoulders. It’s another fight, I am getting older. One more step, I grow bolder. See me out there, on that thin wire. Juggling my life at the same time trying to aspire. The pain didn’t set me back; it lit in me a fire. Your words sharp like a blade and my heart for hire. Elusive to the noise, I climb higher.
I’m eviserating the catacombs of an empire.
I am not trying to scale the ladder. I’m tearing it down to the mire. I am not dousing the flame, I am feeding the fire.

If we are walk this way, we need to dress the correct attire.

Clearly there is an internal fight, a struggle for power. I am not built to last, I eventually get tired. But the problems that disappeared just reappear taking on another form.
I do my best to keep my balance and keep walking this thin wire.

There is a silence in the noise of a mob
I can feel my heart. The story has to end or at least on my part. Will I hit the net below to sweet depart?

Or Shall I just keep juggling as I walk? It doesn’t matter if they think I am a fool; just as long as I do my part.
Life is a circus, living it is an art.

Sleep brings relief and the hope of a new day.
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