Thinking Too Much

Thunder

noreply@blogger.com (Dominic Low) — Wed, 08 Feb 2012 09:48:00 +0000

Low rumblings vibrate the glass held neatly in their frame. Bodies of water ripple, breaking them from the routine of a calm surface.

Pulse skips to the sound, the feeling, the power. Everything gets dark. The joys of artificial light.

The darkness it brings is almost mellow, without so much as a spark. It grows, it grows.

So take shelter lest you are one who enjoys such things, such risks. This isn't for those with weak bodies.

It would envelope you with awe and fear. It's every movement slow but firm, moving ever closer to its intended purpose.

It rains, it rains.

Overcast

noreply@blogger.com (Dominic Low) — Wed, 18 Jan 2012 08:50:00 +0000

Dusty book jackets. Plastic wrappers laid out in disarray. My fingers sinks itself into the matt surfaces. Sandy.

Sometimes, I feel like I am being electrocuted. Calm one moment, absolutely pumped up the next.

The violent hurricane is over. Clouds still hang above, so on the edge of rain. There is no lightning as far as I can tell.

He sits on his tower, overseeing everything and everyone. But everyone is bounded and chained. And everything, everything is irrelevant.

The trivial pursuit of that which isn't even tangible is almost sickening to imagine.

There is no happiness at the absence of despair, only a calm. Ripples and waves, almost too methodical to be natural.

She plays hide and seek among the rubble. What is to say she was not the one who caused the collapse? She is never seen again.

Aches and bruises are the trophies. Embrace them. Love them.

Tear their throats apart. The only way to win is with haste. Mercy is for the weak. Friends only serve to function as your first victims.

If you can't feel the pain of running, would you ever stop? A race without end. Purpose is lost once the games began.

Chain

noreply@blogger.com (Dominic Low) — Tue, 10 Jan 2012 09:58:00 +0000

A light so bright, I'm almost blinded every time I look upon it. It doesn't take that much effort to look upwards, though I rarely do.

It's beautiful. In all its grace and wonderment, its light so glorifying I almost feel myself being rid of impurities. A light so gentle and warm I feel hugged and loved by it. Steady it glows above, pouring its care over me.

Its warm embrace, carefully caressing, almost in fear I would break if so much as being breathed upon. Every molecule of my body calms. My racing brain takes pause to appreciate the moment. And for a while, nothing else matters.

How sweet it is, its fingers dancing across my skin, almost as if trying to absorb every particle of my body into itself. Meticulously brushing every fibre of my body, holding it, kissing it.

A meadow far beyond my eyes can see. A light breeze. Everything so composed, so serene. The warm sun lighting everything in a way that is spectacular beyond words. A simple beauty. Grass between my fingers, warm and comfortably coarse. The clouds roll lazily across the sky, blocking out the sun but for a moment.

Lying down to take in the tranquil of it all, my thoughts melt like butter in a preheated oven. Eyes closed, I take in as much of it as I can.

It feels like a balloon within me is being filled far past its breaking point. Overwhelmingly peaceful. Enveloping myself in the moment, I try to breath in the very essence of it all.

I don't want this to end.

The clanking of metal from my shackles echo as I slump back down.

Who the hell am I kidding.

Spaced, Part 1

noreply@blogger.com (Dominic Low) — Mon, 09 Jan 2012 10:31:00 +0000

A box of matches laid conspicuously on a square table. Looking down, the label says 'Wizard'. Wizard matches, heh.

I can't seem to process the idea of walls, or even a ceiling. But there is light from up there somewhere. Hmm..

There wasn't a chair the last I checked. Though, I suppose I didn't check at all did I?

Sitting down, both palms laid flat upon the table. The wood feels good. Comforting almost.

Blood. I come to realize there seems to be a wound in my mouth. The taste of blood is sweet as always.

My throat is dry despite this. I remember nothing. But I can clearly read. Where the hell am I? Damn.

The feeling of the chair and table stays ever so consciously in my head. I have since then realized I have absolutely no clothing on. Interesting.

More interestingly, my body seems not to be sweating at all. I can't seem to perceive of the temperature as well, though clearly it seems to be cool enough.

'Wizard'. The familiarity of it all irks me. There is exactly one match inside. I didn't need to check. I knew this.

I remove the one match from its box and light it with a single strike. Almost immediately, I instinctively dropped it.

The flames lick the table, burning it slightly. The touch of what's left is warm, rugged and somehow, bitter.

My head is in pain. Metaphorical knots tied inside, too tight to be undone, that's how the pain is like.

Where am I? What are these things? This "room" I'm in doesn't seem to have any limits upwards or side.

The light, wherever it's from, is fading.

Knight

noreply@blogger.com (Dominic Low) — Wed, 28 Dec 2011 15:59:00 +0000

Back against only the willpower that pushes me onwards, death, I may just make it to our little reunion today.

I cannot even begin to imagine, what is it they see? Each kill resonates like an earthquake when I lie on the ground.

Every heartbeat pulses like a hammer to my head. God, everything hurts.

Nothing is felt. The stabs, the pierces, the blows. Everything is just so, numb.

My breath grows shallower as I lose blood.

Pewter

noreply@blogger.com (Dominic Low) — Tue, 27 Dec 2011 15:16:00 +0000

Look upon it's surface and tell me, do you really not see its faded shade of grey?

Each dot almost protrudes grotesquely from its body, I can feel it piercing me from a mile away.

What is it? Why is it like this?

Impart material and polish it till it shines. Make it glow. Make is practically sing.

I'm sure no one would notice until your voice was coarse again.

Corn

noreply@blogger.com (Dominic Low) — Mon, 26 Dec 2011 18:04:00 +0000

Cause insanity is just the world's way to let us see what is true.

Fall into yourself and take a look around you, is there anything that is truly sane?

Scream fight flood crowd bleed moan weep

There is a war in my head and the battlefield that is the essence of myself is having maniacal laughter.

Do you think we will ever wake up for this dream?

I see the wonder of how things are imperfect. How great is flaw that gives uniqueness to everything.

Tell me a story, sing me a song.

Let us sleep.

Mirror

noreply@blogger.com (Dominic Low) — Sun, 25 Dec 2011 14:47:00 +0000

Whisper sweet lies into my ear and let me live in fantasy for a moment.

The sky calls to me like an abyss sucking in what's left of me.

I feel like a frozen turkey deep fried only for two seconds.

How long has it been since I had a taste, a bite, a nibble?

Sinking my fingers into blankets once familiar, has it been so long?

Smile and look into my eyes, do you see the void that fills me to the brim?

Jump, prance, sing, dance, laugh the night away.

Raise your glass and let us drink.

To the company that is myself, cheers.

Flesh

noreply@blogger.com (Dominic Low) — Sat, 24 Dec 2011 12:43:00 +0000

Look into the reflection of things and tell me, is there not beauty in despair?

Bath in the blood of enemies. Deep fry half their bodies and eat them alive. They deserve no pity.

The chills and thrills and screams. How wonderful is it's symphony.

We walk up the mountains candle in hand, meat in another. When the lights go out we feast in silence. The moon is out only company.

Forget the world, forget it all. Drown in the ecstasy that is yourself. Wake up and smell the cadavers.

Open your eyes and laugh the night away.

Lemonade

noreply@blogger.com (Dominic Low) — Fri, 23 Dec 2011 15:48:00 +0000

Right out of the box, it is complete. It is at your whim, just sitting there, waiting for you.

Think about everything that has ever happened to you. Now think how many of those events were spoon-fed to you.

For things not to go your way is statistically common. But sometimes things just go your way does it not?

Some call it luck, some call it preparation. Whatever its name, it provides exactly what you are looking for.

So step up and took a look at the world as it is, and take a leap of faith.

Because failure is expected, but success can be pretty sweet.

Ongoing

noreply@blogger.com (Dominic Low) — Thu, 22 Dec 2011 15:48:00 +0000

The train departs on schedule. Scorched earth behind us all. Everything is painted in black.

What do you think awaits us as we travel onwards? The tracks leads to places unknown to even the conductor.

A cold desert. The moon lights everything just enough to see the cracks on the ground. Everything is so beautifully broken.

It has been barely three days. There is almost no slowing down from the train. Quite the self sufficient technology.

We have just been granted access to leave our cabins. It would seem the emergency management is finally complete.

I don't blame them. If the food replicators broke down completely, we would all be doomed.

I wonder, if this goes on, would we loop around the world?

Years now, all we see are deserts. It would seem the train is powered by its own movement somehow. Fascinating.

Everything is so incredibly dull. More than half the passengers have already committed suicide.

It feels nice to have the entire carriage to myself I admit. Though frankly, I have half a mind to shoot myself at this point.

Belief

noreply@blogger.com (Dominic Low) — Wed, 21 Dec 2011 15:25:00 +0000

Corridors. Think, do I know you? Do you know me?

Empty homes and broken families. Let us all gather and pretend everything is alright.

If you were kidnapped, would I save you? Or would I encourage them? Join them?

I once had a dream, it involved peering outside, hoping the people wouldn't notice I was inside. I was scared.

But I was there only because I was going to betray you.

So tell me, knowing this, would you trust me?

Notice

noreply@blogger.com (Dominic Low) — Tue, 20 Dec 2011 15:53:00 +0000

When you know nothing, sight is all that matters, it is all there is, and all that can be.

I'm not saying its unreliable, but it doesn't help with detail. At least, not much.

But when you peer into the core of things, you start to see things you might not want to see.

The thing about it all is that forgetting is not easy when you recall things often.

Because really, would you want to meet your own inner demons?

Fly

noreply@blogger.com (Dominic Low) — Mon, 19 Dec 2011 15:52:00 +0000

Blindfolds and straps.

Pulling everything in tighter and tighter. Can you feel it? Can you feel everything fading away?

Numbness spreads like wildfire once you stop worrying about it. Feel its burn fade but exist.

The skin and fur presses against leather. Everything is bounded, choking, suffocating.

If your skin would tear, would I care? Or would I watch, knowing you are tied down to earth? There is no hope, only opportunity.

So flay the bodies around you and make wings, so when you fall, you would at least have blankets to sleep in.

Shoot

noreply@blogger.com (Dominic Low) — Sun, 18 Dec 2011 15:24:00 +0000

Ready. Aim.

Do you think, you could ever stand so much into someone's shoes that you can justify it is a life no longer worth living?

Do you think, all life is precious, or that life is just a pointless process?

There is such a thing as right and wrong, even if you do not know which is which.

Think, is it right?

Fire.

Journey

noreply@blogger.com (Dominic Low) — Sat, 17 Dec 2011 15:41:00 +0000

Even with the ups and downs and messes and calms, the day will still likely to end in the mood you last experienced.

I sometimes like to see the moods of a day as a zero-sum thing. Equal parts of good and bad can and will happen.

Though of course, when one thinks about it, it never really is such a case now is it?

Knowledge is the key that which can drive the course of a day to be within your grasps.

So take the wheel and steer clear of useless things and drive yourself to the path of glory.

Snap

noreply@blogger.com (Dominic Low) — Fri, 16 Dec 2011 15:27:00 +0000

Because sometimes, it's easy. Sometimes, there isn't even room to allow you to over-think. Sometimes, it's just straight to the point like that.

Because when you think about it, it all boils down to your own individual wants and needs.

Because when everything is in place, and there is room for you to make pretty much any decision, you only need to think of yourself.

So let yourself be selfish for once in your life.

Fall?

noreply@blogger.com (Dominic Low) — Thu, 15 Dec 2011 15:16:00 +0000

Standing on the edge, the joy, the rush, pulse coursing through one's veins. The situation of it all.

It's interesting when something isn't real, knowing so will often not have effect on one's senses. Only so much stimuli can be conveyed.

The times when knowing something isn't real but it still has the effects to affect you greatly is quite the feat.

But when it's really real, and you feel every fibre of your body telling you not to do something, and you do it knowingly, purposefully, with intention and not choosing to ignore that which is your fear, you can almost feel the thrill override it.

And that feeling alone is worth doing it all over again.

Clay

noreply@blogger.com (Dominic Low) — Wed, 14 Dec 2011 00:15:00 +0000

The way every inch begins to crack, almost representing how nothing it permanent.

You have to first want it you see. Cause when you do, you start to gather the resources needed for it in the first place.

Don't be discouraged if you can't get it right the first time. Live and learn, live and learn.

Everything starts with a goal, begins with starting at all, and works because you have a plan. Do you have a plan?

Mold it. Shape it. Perfect it. Yet no matter how well you refine your skills, things can still change when it comes out of the kiln.

Do not be disappointed if nothing goes your way. Live and learn, live and learn.

Abandon

noreply@blogger.com (Dominic Low) — Mon, 12 Dec 2011 21:09:00 +0000

Oh calm down young chap, you really ought to worry about yourself more than others.

You really need to stop pitying others you know. Can't keep stressing yourself out like that, you'll get a heart attack.

For someone carrying such a long face, one would think you almost don't want to talk about it. You surprise me you know.

Don't give me that look. You know well enough you chose to speak with me because I don't really give a damn.

You clearly know I am a stranger that would not bother to bring up this conversation to another soul.

I would say you should deal with your greed in the first place, but greed is a good motivation at times. Moderation is key.

No no, I'm not saying it's impossible, anything is possible. Sure there are exceptions but if you try hard enough, you can always achieve what you set out to do.

Understand what it is you truly want and set out to get it. With a proper plan, you can at least get close I'm sure. That's how to get what you crave.

Me? No, that's not what I do. I just learn to stop craving.

Peel

noreply@blogger.com (Dominic Low) — Sun, 11 Dec 2011 16:47:00 +0000

The feeling hits you like a pinch, as if your stomach has turned into stone. It's so, vile.

I want to tear flesh apart just to pull it out. It's so unwanted, so unneeded. A burden.

Blood is important for a human being you see. You can't just start pulling things apart without regard to safety and hygiene. Gotta remember that it is important to function.

Funny how society needs people to function, and people need to function to eject themselves into society.

No man is an island. The fact itself is like pus from a dying animal's flesh. It's like the scum accumulated at the end of a clogged up drain. How I hate it so.

I would slice up my skin and pull everything that feels bad out if it didn't kill me. Sure I may inevitably pull out my brain, but at least then I'd be dead.

Every movement hurts, annoys. This steaming pile of putrid excrement is beyond the point of unbearable.

My veins pulse with revolting fluids. I'd tear it all out if I could.

Process

noreply@blogger.com (Dominic Low) — Sun, 11 Dec 2011 12:33:00 +0000

To come to answers which are more complex then necessary right off the bat is commonplace for me.

Not out of the question I suppose, considering the exposure one gets to generic problems.

Requirements, general description, then ideas.

Always the ideas that is the main attraction. Simpler is always better in most cases. Amazing how a simple objective can have such a complex procedure.

It's not easy to come up with a simple idea that works. Complexity often comes with fragility. But simplicity often comes with lots of brain racking.

There is certain joy in figuring things out. A challenge is always welcomed.

Though coming up with the ideas itself can often be almost a physically painful process, I wouldn't say it is enough to call me a masochist.

Feel

noreply@blogger.com (Dominic Low) — Sat, 10 Dec 2011 13:23:00 +0000

Is it strange that I have no idea how to respond to things? To words? To actions? To scenery? To first hand experience?

Instinctively sure, I can always give some form of emotional response I suppose. But everything gets so rigid, so inflexible.

I wouldn't say I have lost the capacity to experience emotion. Everything is still in place. Still capable of working if effort is applied.

Perhaps the best metaphor is that everything is more like a maze now? Nothing flows the same way as before anymore.

To process will always take a longer time as compared to instinct. Perhaps I can simply not processing as much. But I can't really help it.

When I go out into the public, I don't wear a paper bag over my head. At this rate, I might as well do so.

Sewn

noreply@blogger.com (Dominic Low) — Fri, 09 Dec 2011 07:53:00 +0000

You, who walks with me through the thick and thin of my life. Never tired, never complaining.

You, who would fly if I asked you to, who would get hit by a car if I so much as request it, who would gladly live or die at my whim.

You, who stay by my side through my conquers and defeat, never laughing at my loss, never cheering at my success.

You, who never kicks me when I'm down, but would never help me up.

You, who would slip into slumber if care not to move you, but always, always comply to my movements.

You, who could hide so perfectly, so completely, if I allow you to, despite feeling neither shy nor fearful.

You, who allows me to act in complete reserve or danger without uttering a single word.

You, who watches my every merit and mistake, but never judge me, and instead joins me on my every decision.

But they say nothing is permanent in the world.

Oh shadow, will you one day leave me too?

Throat

noreply@blogger.com (Dominic Low) — Thu, 08 Dec 2011 08:42:00 +0000

How much does it take to strangle someone to death?

I never could shake away the uneasiness that comes to me easily. It takes time, patience, persistence. Over time, it flows away, but never easily.

Heart rate at 126 beats per minute. Damn it, die already. Adrenalin always helps, but at this rate I'll like get a heart attack before all breath is lost.

I always thought that things would be easy if I could break it down into its various components. One step at a time, surely one can reach their goals in time.

Everything hurts. Every. Damn. Thing. Hurts. Ropes are such pretty things when they are around necks aren't they?

I once considered the idea of just running wild. To just let it all go and be whatever it is that comes to mind. Is it not great to release oneself from every and all restraints?

The only familiarity of it all was from practice. My sweat seems to still be a hindering factor. Not like I'll ever do this again but still, good to know I suppose?

I think at the end of the day it doesn't really have to make any sense. Treat the symptom, not the cause.

I can almost feel the life being squeezed out. Everything is turning black. Funny how everything still hurts.

How much does it take to strangle yourself to death?