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Greg Obrecht Dec 2013
One step. One breath. Each day is a new test. Laughing fits Crying spells. Picking at new scabs.

The space between life and pain is separated by a thin veil. I've opened up the curtains and cast away the darkness. The razor cuts of his tongue are silenced by my love. Yet yet yet the painful choices of my now paralyze thought.

Wrapped inside a cotton brain with small thoughts and toy trains. My ego seeks how to learn without leaving a perpetual burn. My brothers and sisters await at the gate. I see them clear i see them now but they can't wait.

Lets start anew today amongst the ruins of the festive clothes. A bird will rise with a red nose in tow squirting water from a flower. This bird climbs and climbs to an apex of thought. Behind the world and over forever. Rain slowly falls and floods the world, pain is gone, a rainbow appears. A new life begins today on a hazy green path.

This means everything and nothing at all. It's all nonsense and jibberish. Consciousness streams and flows. And it feels **** good to be me for one single moment. One drop of irrelevant rain into life's ocean. The pencil is dull so I must stop. Happiness ensues. The crowd cheers the end of the show. A young girl wears a shiny white mask.
Greg Obrecht Oct 2013
I'm saddled by the dreams of others. Their vicarious thoughts steal my youth.
Heal the weak and the battered. Make their eyes shine bright again.

Find a way to mine the treasure. Maybe create those flying shoes.
Any way to make a dollar. The emptiness has been renewed.

Sorry to disappoint the adoring. My mind works a different way.
My words are my currency. This path is paved with many jewels.
Greg Obrecht Oct 2013
Outside I'm pushing papers from here to there. There's no real purpose in my actions.
I smile and appropriately nod to appease them. Responsibility rules my every day.
I wander like a zombie through the corridors. My mask is well maintained and flawless.

Inside is an inferno that melts away my mind. The remnants drip slowly down to my soul.
It cries out from the torture and the pain. A hole opens and exposes the open wound.
Please stop staring at my naked essence. I'm a child seeking a comforting womb.
Greg Obrecht Oct 2013
My soul is used, *****, and soiled.
My dreams left ******, beaten, and foiled.
Clinging to the tail of the relentless beast.
Still moving forward, trying to rise like yeast.
Arrows pierce my heart as I struggle to stand.
My pained eyes in search for a helpful hand.
The candle in the distance shows a certain goal.
Little do I know they've already dug my hole.
Greg Obrecht Oct 2013
Death comes at an unknown hour uncloaked and silver *****.  A seemingly malevolent, yet friendly finger eagerly reaches out and cuts the tenuous thread of life.  Death gives a macabre smile and narrow laugh as night takes on a wrinkled texture.  The oft used gates of the netherworld shriek their welcome as they enthusiastically open.  

Demons and angels, sinners and saints all come together in celestial copulation.  The masks of life long forgotten, the shell of the mortal buried and rotting beneath a forsaken world.  Death allows a you a seemingly perpetual slumber as aeons will pass and empires will go through their gory cycle with each misty sigh.  

The doorbell rings, in saunters in a man wearing an ivory suit with a cheap garish tie.  A peddler of schlocky goods and empty promises.  Some will hear the siren call of the carnival barker, accepting the pleading asservations of a heaven with sapphire water and embodied souls.  Death, amused by this eternal drama, keeps his hand impassively ready on the unforgiving scythe.
Greg Obrecht Oct 2013
I'm blind to the ways of this world. My sight has gone astray. The only feeling I have. Is my soul eroding away.

It slowly seeps on out. My essence on the ground. Trampled by many people. Lost and never found.

This shell of me remains. Floating through this sphere. Making that daily journey. A cog within the gear.

Maybe someday I'll look back. And have a chance to say. That it wasn't without meaning.
But today is not that day.
Greg Obrecht Oct 2013
A boy of eight sits quietly behind the closed door.  He's losing himself in his made up places. Staying put in reality has become quite a chore.  Sweat streams down his face as his mind races.

The fighting has escalated beyond the screaming and yells.  Bloodied lips and bruised faces are now the norm.  He's trying to concoct magical incantations or possibly spells.  There has be a sturdy shelter against the growing storm.  

One day her learns that she's leaving for another.  That his world will be flipped upside down.  He knows every little boy needs a mother.  He's ravaged with guilt as he wears his thorny crown.  

His father somehow makes ends meet as a single dad.  But there's sadness as the bottle becomes a friend.  The little boy watches from a distance but he's quite sad.  Not even a hug from his only son makes the sorrow end.

The boy now grows and is in his teenage years.  The father has remarried but its a shallow tonic.  The boy had now found his release in a case of beer.  The father now stands quietly in the shadows, isn't that ironic?

The boy is fully grown and keeps the pain within. Morals and ethics are lost in the strangling haze.  He decides to move to the city of sin. There he  meets an angel that would speak and amaze.

His name was Mark and the streets is where he dwelled.  He talked of freedom and power of belief.    Although he spoke softly the exuberance he expelled.  Changed his life like the color on a leaf.

He found my purpose thanks to a homeless man.  He left that city vowing never to return.  As He travelled back his eyes began to scan.  Somewhere in Utah his soul began to yearn.


He pulled off road and saw a visual scene.  There were canyons of color and voiceless song.  Infinity was set before him previously unseen.  He finally found a place where he belongs.

He stayed with the landscape for about a week.  He made promises to the night that he swore he'd keep.  As he drove away a tear streamed down his cheek.  It was time to get back to the world of sheep.

He went back home and settled into an old routine. The beers started flowing and the good times ensued.  He had already forgotten what kept him clean.  He made his plan to leave again with a vision that skewed.  

He got behind the wheel of that beat up car.  The city of sin would welcome him with open legs.  Fortunately for him he didn't get far.  The oil spilled out like a broken keg.

Little did he know that fate stepped in.  He took a job he only planned for a while.  Then he heard the door open and lifted his chin.  There walked in his angel with a school girl smile.

The courtship lasted for a few sweet weeks.  He knew he loved her well before they met.  And she knew his souls was what she seeks.  And still to this day he is in forever to a homeless man's debt.
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