Fragments » In Nightmares

A Bit Like My Mind

Pete — Tue, 02 Mar 2010 06:31:20 +0000

Walking a forever staircase
Happiness sits far away

Forwards to the other side?
A bit like my mind

Self Portrait

Pete — Fri, 04 Dec 2009 18:28:32 +0000

Often when I’m lying down hoping to get to sleep, it occurs to me I’m not breathing in much air. My nose doesn’t seem to be allowing in enough oxygen.

I try to take in deeper breaths but I need to exhale before I’ve finished inhaling. I begin to panic. I have to sit up and try to relax. This can only happen when I stop thinking about it.

Eventually I calm and lay back down, hoping it doesn’t happen again. But hoping means I’m thinking about it.

Sometimes this exhaustive cycle is what eventually gets me to sleep.

Hanged, Wrapped & Starved

Pete — Fri, 20 Nov 2009 05:49:01 +0000

The carpeted floors are uneven. They creak and threaten to break with every step. Yet it’s this upper level I love. Often devoid of people, or at least everybody seems to remain quiet. Industrial size fans line the walls. They silence any murmuring. Though their job is to cool the oven, as sun beams through the large windows and against the iron roof.

My favourite sections are the dolls and the clothing. The dolls and plush toys range from modern and chirpy to ancient and unsettling. Discarded through progress and neglected with age.

The clothing is different to any store or wardrobe. It’s difficult to imagine where much of it came from. There’s a whole section just for denim. Maid uniforms hanging from the rafters upon mannequin torsos seemed to share a moment with me.

Half Underwater

Pete — Thu, 29 Oct 2009 14:35:05 +0000

Something different.
Something unusual.
Something new.
Something a little less ordinary.
Something strange.
Something to heighten the senses.
Something to whet the appetite.
Something to shake up the bloodstream.
Something to brighten the mood.
Something for a moment.
Something while it lasts.
Something worth remembering.

Eighteen Months

Pete — Wed, 02 Sep 2009 03:45:16 +0000

In order for life to continue, life must be consumed. At the top of the food chain, our closet of skeletons is the biggest of all. The progression of mankind is the result of a history of violence. Our intelligence is thanks to murder.

It’s hard for many to accept that a mosquito has no higher purpose. That the viruses it spreads do not exist for a reason which is somehow beneficial to us in the long run.

A female mosquito requires blood in order to breed and one of its favourite sources is humans. The method in which the mosquito extracts blood can allow the transfer of viruses.

It’s been 18 months since I was bitten and I can still barely walk most days. Yet each day I seem to become more frustrated with people (in all our wisdom) than I do with mosquitos.

Of A Tragedy

Pete — Sat, 21 Mar 2009 04:02:30 +0000

so long
clinging climbing crashing
feet to torso dangling
splashing sputtering suffocating
partially submerged
icy numbs fiery sears
again with familiar again with time
easy to warm to the cold