The Future Is My Past - I

He looked at the ceiling. He'd been staring at it for hours now. That was after he got tired of looking at the starlit skies outside his room. It was nearing 5AM, it had been nearly 23 hours since he got up, but the tiredness he felt had nothing to do with his limbs....it was within.

The questions were beginning to haunt him now....it was silly, he thought. Why think of these things when all they were doing was to pull him deeper and deeper into the mire? Every answer contained new questions. He thought of the Douglas Adams and that inane crack about the Universe. So true in a way, he thought. Everytime you reached one answer, it changed the question, that was all......the questions just kept coming at you....

Stop thinking. He'd got to stop this uncontrollable wandering of his mind. It wasn't helping at all. He needed to restore control and the only way he could see to do that was to just block these thoughts. The idea appalled him as much as the prospect seemed inviting. Inviting, because it seemed to show the way to 'normalcy'. It was a door to the past....a past that seemed lost. Had it really been a good time? Perhaps. Perhaps not. But it couldn't have been worse than this at any rate, he thought. Ignorance, really is bliss......but more than that, the yearning for freedom and the search for the answers are misery......

Floating in dark realms soaking in the pain,

In enchanted lands where the damned scream for succour,

Futures and pasts same, mellowed memories remain,

Interred in the cradle of Faith forever,

Maidens on bleak streets feasting on the bone,

Glorifying an ancient power of the binding green,

White rage a fire within, admonishing a sin,

Sanctioned by the graces of a wanton libertine

Sacred constellations talk about belief depraved,
While the hunchback prowls the streets seeking to quench his ire,
Eyes a mist filled with clouds tinging humanity,
Every solstice marking time on a life of misery,
Creeping, crawling over, roll a joint for seeking God,
As a whipcord velts a mark on a hungry mind depraved,
He spoke of dancing shadows and of winds with icy hands,
Shallowness of dementia possessing, sailing into unknown lands

Flaming scepters blew down upon her under biting moon,
As I knelt down beside her and cradled the form,
Defiled and invaded by a creature devoured by my pain,
Consigned to an Eternity of flames and acid rain,
Seeking solace in solitude under starlit skies,
Crushing darkness descends on my glistening lair,
Maleficence turns clear-hearted thoughts to Death,
As her memory haunts my nightmares....