I don’t want to go home,
smell the flames and death,
taste madness in the air.
Despair.
I’d rather drown
in a pitch-thick abyss,
than a sea of bright lies.
Realize.
I’d prefer a painful truth,
over comfortable nothings,
and watching them spread.
Dread.
Given the choice ‘tween,
happy lies, dark truths,
I choose the latter,
for nothing will extinguish truth’s glow.
Know.
Reality fades,
the universe with it.
Learn why,
defy.
Withered and ashen gray,
curled beneath full moonlight,
the wind whispers incessant seductions,
while midnight rivers drain of blood,
and the scent of a fresh kill taints the air.
In the distance coyotes are calling.
Who or where is as equally our question as theirs.
Beneath them is the sound of even-further waves,
they crest with crescendo, their sea a symphony.
Between here and there is all reality,
but if no-one is there to witness it,
it fades.
Thus men of faith, religion,
pay homage to imagined creatures,
so that it might forever remain.
There is something to be said here of hope,
belief its benefactor, life its assassin.
So that it might meet reality, too, in the end.
But the abyss is wide,
deep,
ever growing.
Serpents’ forked tongues can sense death on the air,
like crimson blood tainting white wine.
There are no secrets to life.
No greater meaning.
There is only existence and those that exist.
Take heed this lesson.
Remember it.
For no meaning,
no purpose,
is true freedom.
We are bound by no shackles.
Soar.
So what do you want then?
– You dead,
out of my heart and back to my head again.
– You’ll never change,
always the same
– It is my passion, it is my pain.
-After all these lessons,
you’ve learned nothing of rain.
Let it fall heavily,
Feel it drain,
Tickles you sensually,
pleasures your brain.
It’s all perception,
just have a good time.
A fragmented inception,
of one in my mind.
Even so, never forget,
It teaches regret,
And Pain to learn from,
but never let sit.
Maybe you’re right,
and maybe they’re gone,
but perhaps they never mattered,
that much at all.
I felt they did once,
and my heart took the punch.
But now I’ve let them ring,
Never waited for angels to sing,
Nor the for the heaves to pen,
sound out their dreams.
Be what you will,
but do be it soon,
for there’s devils within you–
one that can swoon,
and one that will kill.
S. M. Nolan's Sci-Fi Logbook 