Friday, November 20, 2009

Missing Pieces

He sits upright in bed staring at the white wall, thinking about life. About how he wants to hit snooze again and forget he's alive. About how he knows he's going to get yelled at for being late again. What does it matter though? He doesn't care about his boss; in fact he barely even cares about his job. He barely ever shows affection towards anyone these days, head turned to the ground, eyes lonesome. He feels like a part of him is missing, like someone reached inside his chest and pulled out the piece of him he tried so many years to keep a hold of. He looks at the world differently now, the expressions on faces, the smiles he knew were never real. He tells himself the dream will end soon. He laughs, wishing every morning has never made it come true; he asks anyway. Stumbling out of bed he kicks through the clothes on the floor deciding which skin to wear today. Arrogance, fear, depression, he keeps kicking, grief, pity. Pulling fear over his head he knows grief is not far behind. Fear for what? Fear for living, for his dream, for the next morning when he wakes up kicking the same shit, asking the same questions. Grief for what? Grief for the fear he has walking through the halls seeing smiling faces, for the part of himself he lost. Where did that go anyway? Maybe it was too sweet and time melted it away in the heat of the days. The long nights with endless dimes and blank stares. It was only a matter of time, he thought, before it dissolved away.

Saved by the Storm

I walk outside and fire up a cigarette. The vivid display of nature in the sky reminds me that some things in life are still beautiful. Taking a drink of my beer I cough from the desecration of smoke traveling through my body. It pushes deeper and deeper until my mouth begins to salivate and I think of all the nights puking in drunken pity-parties. I can taste the salami sandwich I ate two hours ago as the insides explode from my body. I'm not even drunk, but still, I get sick. All the thoughts no one will appreciate drip from my lips leaving a remorseful taste in my mouth. I feel my body getting hot as another crash of thunder lights the cloudy sky. The rain cools my fever and assures me that I won't combust tonight.

Thursday, November 19, 2009

Ink


Jamin Winans’ new film Ink plays with the classical dichotomy between good and evil. While seemingly linear in motion, Winans has a tendency to make his audience work for the meaning behind his films. Ink takes place in a world where several planes of existence are present. In the “dream world” the Storytellers and Incubi reign supreme. The Storytellers are responsible for good dreams while their darker counterpart, the Incubi, conjure nightmares that people of the “real world” experience in their sleep.

The story begins on a wild yet forthcoming tangent by introducing two of the main characters of the story, Emma and her father. We are then driven into the main theme of the film where we are presented with the abilities of the Storytellers and Incubi and their unique gift to give people the seemingly impossible through the imagination of the dream world. And thus the tragic hero Ink comes to the forefront; a disfigured and socially unadjusted wanderer of the dream world.

It is Ink’s belief that by taking a child sacrifice to the leader of the Incubi he will be saved thus making the final transition into becoming an Incubus himself. What Ink does not yet know is that the journey from one child’s bedroom to the lair of the Incubi will be long and distraught and full of challenges both morally and transcendentally.

With a soundtrack written by Jamin Winans himself and a screenplay co-written by his wife, Ink is a truly mesmerizing journey through the enlightening moments of the human experience. This is one film of 2009 that you will not want to miss out on.

Wednesday, November 18, 2009

Voices of a Distant Star


"Voices Of A Distant Star" is a unique take on romantic relationship torn apart by duty and growing distance to each other. In this case it is the distance of light years, which separates a Mech-Pilot in outer space, from her lover on Earth. Only through SMS can they keep contact with each other and the further the girl travels into space with a fleet of spaceship looking for alien aggressors, the longer her messages take to reach him. Following Einstein's general Theory of Relativity she also ages slower in relationship to him, but the true love they have for each other only grows through the hope of reuniting and sharing their emotion to the fullest.


Aurora Hues

"Sometimes I wish I was blind,"
says the man that can see.

Where sounds become sight,
and towers are trees.
I wonder if color would remain
Aurora hues on a black satin sheet.

Swishing like they do, ever present,
forever would they fleet.
I ponder if noise would become
just a new way to isolate--

tone deaf to the gradual onset
of inessential claustrophobic shadows.
Sometimes I think, as I close my eyes,

This is how the World should really be.

Tuesday, November 3, 2009

Breathe

It sneaks in through flaired nostrils
teasing bloated thoughts.
They fight with wands of thorn
getting hotter, and faster.
Swirling in circles it collides with dormant demons
coaxing them to arise for battle.

Shrieking down into charcoal lungs
it steals what's left of dense smog.
Heart beats faster.
Need air—breathe.

It squeezes and grips at the center.
Tingling down to limp appendages
constricting muscles.
Blood pumps harder.
Tense—breathe.

Body suffocating,
mind unable to ward off the attack,
it spirals in, sinking deeper
leaving claw marks on porcelain lining.

Gasp—
Breathe.

A Moment Divine

That kiss; that kiss - burnt on my forehead
with a sweet salty hiss--
collaborating our unwieldy tryst -
a place where lovers meet
to wetten their lips.

But this place--it was not divine,
even though so sublime--
so surely it would end with time.
The clock beats softly
enter-ing with its chime.

And it did - that tryst,
sigh away with its bliss--
melt astray in that moment divine,
lost -

in the ticking of time.