Jim Morrison screams in the background.
“This is the end.”
My mind wants to tear its way out,
through flesh,bone and inhibition.
The west is the best.
The west is the best,get here and we’ll do the rest,he says.
My heart asks.
Where are you,you sick fool?
The mind interrogates.
Where are you now,
What have you fixated upon,this time,you silly thing?
It’s cold out here.
I look at my thin hands.
I am amazed at how paper-white they are.
How,fragile,as the veins shine blue-green,on the surface,
a perfect picture of innocence.
Perfect picture of innocence-
That reminds me of something I dont quite remember.
Do I slash at them?
The music picks up pace.
Guitars and screams and drums,
All rolling into one psychedelic scream,that does deep dark things,to my addled brain.
Do I slash at them?
Oh but they look so tiny and fragile.
I recoil,fingers clutched tight,
A reflex action,like the goosebumps,and grimaces,
that always accompany even the slightest contemplation of voilence or physical pain.
But,this is the end.
Am I afraid?
What do I want to prove?
Will it be worth the trouble?
The sensation,of finally,finally,
Finally being in control.
Not over life,but atleast in the choice of ending it.
Will it make me feel powerful?
Almost as if the veins are cowering because they somehow guessed the mind’s intentions.
Gripping the blade.
No more contemplation.
“Hello,I love you.”
That brings me back.
With a jolt.
It’s not Jim who croons in my ear.
It’s young jim.
The tiny human that my broken world is anchored to.
Tiny and fragile.
Perfect picture of innocence.
And,my anchor is strong,mind you.
I just need to be reminded.
Over and over and over again.
“I am gonna love you,
till the stars,fall from the sky,
For you and I.”
Morrison croons,as the songs shuffle.
And this time,
I don’t need Jim,
To ask “what was that promise that she made?”
to pick the knife back up,
and make jim his favorite dish for dinner.
So,quite a blabber,eh?
Well,it was Jimbo’s birthday yesterday,and such thoughts always plague my mind when I am listening to only The Doors for prolonged periods of time!
So,writing after ages,and this bit about a desperate teenager stranded in a cruel world,with a kid to take care of.
This little piece here features (mentions,should I say?oh,never you mind.) The End, and Touch Me.
So much for Doors references.
If you aren’t a fan,its about time you became one.