Unmarked Graves

Time is short - until you make time.

the unknown

     I was once seen winking at death as I ripped demons from my chest. In all things I was, was to a fault; defiant. Inside the walls of my mind, the prisoners still riot. I locked myself away in solitary. I could be seen standing before an empty grave I couldn't wait to bury.

    Once upon a time, a long time ago, by a kind soul, I was given a choice: 

Eternal love or listen to the voices in my head, unlimited imaginations or a plethora of friends. 

   In the end, I died alone painting an almost finished Mona Lisa of my own. No one ever found my lair, so there I sit in a crumbling chair with unfading paint stains on my skeleton hands. My body slumped facing a dusty unseen Picasso. My plan was to return to the world and show my work completed, and I dreamed that when the masses would see it then they would truly begin to understand me as a man, but all things be damned. 

   For in my unknown chamber, my buried grave, I have become a shackled slave of my own deprave. For no one will ever know my name or the fact that I was just one brush stroke away from eternal fame.

" Parentheses"                  

Murder for decoration

God lost in translation

Bright colors shine and ripple with every vibration.

Manipulated crosses catch fire

Mona Lisa lips smile now inspired

The tape worm learns to fear the common germ

Saturated sermons from a money-driven vermin

A hermit shakes his clinched fist at instigating kids

A child that never cried still gives love 

to a mother who will never forgive

God is what you want him to be

And is hated by those who are not allowed to see

The blind man says

See everything differently

Without parentheses.

Oh, To be normal

There's no reason to try your best. When you are now equal, just like the rest. Don't be mad, we gave you exactly what you wanted...to no longer be treated differently or special.

Room 3

   The nurse guided me back to the examination room. They always stop on the way to get your weight. When I was little, I always tried to jump onto the scale even though they yelled at me. I did it because somehow I thought it made me heavier. Which meant I was getting bigger. As a kid you were always in a rush to be bigger, so you would be considered an adult. Funny thing is as adults, we just wish we were kids again! 

   Next, they will measure your height. I always tried to stand on my tippy toes. They always scold me in a playful way, telling me "Bobby, lay your feet flat!" When you get older they just ask you how tall you are? It kinda takes all the fun out of that. 

  Then, they show you where your room is. My first instinct was and is to look if there was a shot sitting out there on the table. I always hated shots. It was always funny to me,  that you're sitting in a chair that always seems to be too big for you. I always felt like a kid in this chair no matter how old I got. The fact that you have to jump into the chair. This act alone turns any adult back into a child. It's probably why I still swing my foot off the edge of the chair the same as when I was 10. A grown-a*s man in his 40's still in my work clothes swinging his feet almost to the point of violently back-and-forth. As if I was still a kid in the summer time, sat down by his mother waiting to run back outside to play. 

   Those were the days, I think as the doctor came in the room. When you are younger, sometimes the doctor would bring a lollipop and say if your good you'll get it in the end. This time he bought a friendly hello, followed by bad news. 

   It's funny how we don't appreciate life until something tragic happens. Like an injury, bad cold, or you're losing it. The same way that those of us that work day after day and night after night barely ever have time to look up at the stars. I'm thinking about when was the last time I looked up at the stars as he's telling me that I have a tumor in my brain and not long to live. And as he is telling me that I'm dying. I can't help to think, s**t we've all been dying since birth. I just have a date to put on my calendar. 

   I remember that day thinking how later that night I was going to take the time to look up at the sky. I was going to just stop and look up at the stars, just let the world spin without me for a time, while I got lost in the cosmos. But I didn't. I got busy and I stayed busy. There are a lot of things to do in life right before you die. And there's definitely irony in that. 

   Now I'm lying in the hospital bed strapped to these damn machines that help me breath. I'm too weak to speak let alone get out of my bed. I'm dying, alone with no friends. I just want to see the stars again. I forgot what they looked like, but they seem so far now and time is dwindling down. The last thing I will hear is the beeping of this damn machine and I can't even scream!

  Do a dying man a favor and answer me these questions real quick: 

When was the last time you looked up at the sky? When was the last time you escaped from an always moving world, and just stopped to look at the stars? Do you remember what they look like?

Times up.

Flate---line.

Thee End.

 by the unknown sith

Author's Note

If you get it then you got it and that's good! Life is a run on sentence that never stops so you have to force yourself to make periods to pause...
-from Bobby with the shots