a bunch of stuff written

There are two people inside every mind, the hemispheres and separated by a minuscule river of fluid but it might as well be the raging amazon for all the good it does to try and understand your better half.

Your loves and losses pass before the screen, static and scratched by a fading memory, a voice tells you to forget and move on while another can only repeat her name like a litany, a meditating monk that threatens your sanity. Look in the mirror and feel the scream build up until you have to look away, ashamed for so much but no remorse for anyone but yourself.

If this was how it was supposed to have been, why is it all so bad?
Old beer and stained paint, cockroaches and ash in little piles on the carpet, the child inside you wonders where it all went wrong.
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I believe I shall miss the cold winter mornings, the white ice that captures the world in a timeless way. The crisp air that feels as new as the first breath of god, the way the quiet surrounds you and permeates the mind.

But most of all I'll miss the orange glow of a street lamp and the way we stood below it, a few inches from each other yet seperated by a million miles, our foot steps leading off into the distance and criss-crossing the snowy road, like two lovers trapped in a cold labyrinth.
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I hope you can all the see the jail cell walls, the gaolers you have let into your life like a disease. A virus of apathy, stare at the screen and not the sky, feel the blood slow and the mind die, no need for punishment when the prisoners no know other place.

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I caught you in my trap, now you have no other choice....

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Laughter rings around me, the ringing bells of a million insanities tucked away inside. I test the straps and feel content, here they know me for what I am. No need to hide, everyone loves me how I am, have another pill and close your eyes.

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The blindfold is tight around my eyes, I can smell the desert sands and feel the hot winds on my naked body, the paint has dried into a hard carapace that protects me form the worst of the radiation. The shaman ahead chants and dances, i can not see him but his voice is loud and melodic, his feet pounding the earth in a rhythm that reminds me of a stampede. I shuffle along with the others, this is all we have, the earth and the song.

I and the others begin to sing with the shaman, his words indecipherable yet compelling. The trail is unknown to me yet we dance about blind, a few inches from an unseen chasm, smiles and sweat, the peyote takes hold and my stomach clenches while my nose bleeds. My eyes are lit by a million waves and grids, the first of the flight approaches, the grid bends and turns to a tunnel of iridescent azure wires, I stomp around in a circle and feel the hook in my brain, it jerks and I'm out, the grid-tunnel turns to a kaleidoscope of painted figures, stone inscribed hunters looping with painted hand prints. Is this a dream, or is it how it always is and me and mine are a figment of my grand imagining?

This is magic and I embrace it, the power of my soul. The shaman howls and stomps around, with a sudden jump I rip the blindfold from my eyes and see the landscape below me. I am a hawk and I can see a collection of humans on a plateau trail, howling and dancing. I feel a great pity for the poor diseased creatures. I bank and feel the currents on my wings, the responsive tail that straightens me in my spiral. A grid of lights and sparkles flash in front of my sensitive eyes, the magnetite in my brain tells me where I am and how to get anywhere I want to be.

Freedom is life and death is slavery, I see a mouse run across a log and I smile inside my beak. To eat is to survive and to survive is to give thanks to the sky. I dive and scream with the air as it blows past my feathers and for a moment I am God. The lights and colors fill my vision in a terrible moment of confusion, I pull up lest I crash. The sky seems heavier and the colors fade for a second to show me a pair of useless mutated paws at the end of my wings. I screech in fear as I feel the sky mother reject me. I fall towards the plateau and the dancing humans. Too late I realize what is about to happen, I cry and scream but I'm pulled to the skinny man with his wide, fevered eyes.

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Individual loss and massive gain, to try and fail is to feed the fire inside, look at the mirror all warped and broken, see the things you've turned away from.

Alive and well inside you.