Fleshlings

Humans are fascinating creatures, desperately swinging back and forth between transcendence and demise, between calls for peace and mourning of war torn bonds, and between spiritual needs and mundane wants, how amusing!

We are the only beings capable of self annihilation and the destruction of other species, it is as intriguing a fact as it is despicable, we are the only ones capable of a rational thought process and insane behaviour in the same exact moment in time.

The previous thoughts pierced my skull like drills through harsh grounds as the bodies in my line of sight swayed from side to side to the shameless excuse for music. We are the damned and the accursed yet we mistakenly believe that we are the blessed and the mighty, if we had taken a moment of our pretentious, precious time to observe the beastly kinds, we’d only find the perfection of the creator in his creations, we’d find harmony and a swift presence on the plains, no conflict ever occurred outside the natural order of things.

How I loathe the day we were created with choice and imagination; one is bound to destroy the global dream of peace for no two humans will ever make the same exact choices leading to such visions, no two humans will follow the same code through and through and certainly no two humans will ever find the same meaning or means for peace. The second is destined to avert us from the supposed plan and to always change our path for we will eternally be able to imagine a different one, we are doomed ladies and gentlemen, how misguided can creatures get!

Yours despicable,

Zeus

Stranger: Dance of the benign, insane

It begins with wanting, usually we tend to want one of two things: Something that we do not possess, rather a “want” out of our simple, naive and mortal reach, or more of the sweet, eternal same, more of want we’ve already embraced.

Applying the previous theory on the state of yours faithful, a paradoxical concept rises from the ashes of your spotless minds: both options are valid and match the description of our mysterious lady friend, she is the incarnation of what I long for in the materialistic sense and she is the embodiment of the theoretical, theatrical and thorough spiritual enticement.

Alongside the former, her familiar existence and her lack of needless masks that depict false facades is comforting, as if I’d seen her in the darkest of my ages in an old, beautifully melancholic coincidence.

I have always assumed I’m naturally equipped for analyzing humans but my perception draws blanks or mere false conclusions when it comes to her revered presence.

The  path seems long, troublesome and full of terrors and I remain quite at ease despite me feeling quite insane for writing this heresy and these hallucinations about this borderline mythical persona, using my intuition rather than my logic.

God have mercy on the feeble I.

Simply yours,

Zeus

Artwork by Cherine El-Halfawy

Stranger: The beginning

And there she was, lying next to me, awestricken and devoid of all masks and facades, and by the Gods it was a sight for the sore, bored eyes of mine. Times like these are thoroughly scarce in quantity yet intensely and beautifully rich in quality wherein time itself seems meaningless.

I would rust during the wait for her to reveal where her mind wanders, gloomy and simultaneously content, she seemed when she rested her eyes and leaned against the walls of thought and consciousness. I continued to write, hapless, helpless and very much intrigued by this alien presence that felt unrealistically familiar.

I was probably just imagining or mistaken, I tend to dramatize and complicate simple incidents to make them something I could write about, but a small part of me wishes it was as real and tangible as the words depict.

I will lay now in the comfort of my bed, with fingers crossed, with a wandering mind and with hope for better times ahead, times where my imagination isn’t that far from the truth.

Goodnight and Goodbye..

For now.

Yours explicitly,

Zeus

Artwork by Russ Mills

Joe, my friend.

He’s always present,

ageless,

emotionless,

motionless,

flawless,

cold is that fellow,

and characteristically unfriendly,

yet he does not mind my presence

for I’ve noticed his,

unlike most

who take him for granted

and unlike most

I rendered him needed.

–

Him and I visit

On the cold winter nights,

I lay on my bed

with him looming from above,

and then he signals

and I recite

and I moan

and I lie,

he could always tell when I do,

only then I stop and stare

and ponder the whys, whens and whats

Why is that air of sadness trailing me?

It follows me traveling,

it stalks me still

When can my deeds be undone?

for I am a saint that sinned,

for I am a lecher that preached,

for I’ve loved and loathed myself,

–

What does it all mean?

Shouted my silence.

–

Stagnant he becomes,

rivaling the stillness

of my posture,

he does not answer,

he does not react,

he waits

and he stares at me,

for he knows I know the answers

to every question asked.

I stare back at him

and then,

only then,

in the darkness he smirks

for less than a second,

less than a moment in time,

he sees me,

and I am his open book,

He knows

and only he knows

I will remain silent

for the rest of the night.

–

Let the record show,

that

Joe is my ceiling

and I am

His human.

Yours tediously,

Zeus

 Camille Rose Garcia- Subterranean Orphans