I am not afraid.

I am not afraid.
I paint my face with colors of red, crimson red, blood red.
I am " great hollow fire"  and I am not afraid.
I am not afraid of the deep white vast snow invading my land nor the chilling , piercing air trapped in my chest, I am not afraid of their guns, or the dryness of summer, I am not afraid of hunger.
I am not afraid. not of the cruelty of war nor it`s vast destruction.
not of the deliriousness of helpless loss.
not of the terror of rejection.
not the living nor the dead.
because I am "great hollow fire" and I am not afraid.

PTST

the slim man, between truth, and deception, between reality, and tender fantasy, coldly sips his strong coffee, pulls his greasy hair behind his abnormally large ears, and gives very little care, for life is hardly ever worth, losing your cup of coffee.
he sits on his movable chair, his gray bleak chair in his gray bleak apartment, and quietly , anxiously stairs at the black and white footage within his palms, he turns around him, paranoid, runs to the pallor old curtains and shuns the sun out, and the unwanted unseen glances.
he gets off of the chair and crawls under the table, he pulls the footage with him, along with the book hes been difficultly reading, researching, desperately looking for a piece of harsh information to explain the terror he`s been in, some sort of medical explanation, rare scientific research, anything.
he pants as he reads words, slightly sheltered beneath his old mahogany disk table, and struggles to understand their otherwise simplistic meaning.
"schizophrenics experience delusions with constant sound of what they refer to as'whispers'" he pants some more, and takes a few seconds to self diagnose, "ahh, no..no I dont hear whispers, but but, but time, I cant tell time, I I never can one day its Saturday afternoon, and then its Monday evening, and I dont know if its October or November, I ..I" and he breaths in deeper, and clings to his coffee mug, afraid, terrified that they`ll come back, all of them, him, and him, and her and him, and the little girl with her dog whose never quite
and they said, they said, they`ve chosen him, on on some sort of mission, he thinks, recalls, abseloutly terrified, holring his head between his fingers, he sips his coffee to calm him self down, he spills a few drops on his shirt and the terror within him overshadows any sort of physical pain towards the immense heat of the coffee touching his skin, he reaches for the phone and dials the number...
"nayome, common  nayome goddam answer the phone" he whispers shivering \ underneath the table "hello" the silky voice of the independent blond rises "nayome, nayome, you gotta help me, naymoe they`re coming for me , please!" "noah, is that you? have you been drinking again?" "no nayome there were these people who came over, and I dont know what they did to me, I am so terrified  , I cant, tell what time, date is is, is it november, is 99?  1998, I dont, I dont know what they did to me naymoe" he says beginning  to weep,  squashed under the tole of the events.
"noah, calm down, I ll be there in a second".
the thin man wakes up, its the middle of the night, what night? what day, he dosenot begin to know.
life is hardly worth losing your cup of coffee.





author note:
as it says on the labes, this was inspierd by a movie, you wouldnt even guess, but it`s the ring.

 there is something about the atmosphere of this movie that inspierd me, I realize that its not exactly the most, artistic movie or whatever, but not to blow my own horn, I am not even sure if its a complement, but I sorta see shit in movies that most people dont, its probably not even meant to look like that,

schizophrenia

I run around , the thin walls of this hospital, it saddens me that I now feel at home, if I do, then that only proves that I have declared defeat.

and that is something I dont ever intend on declaring

yes, they do all live within me, and I do admit so.

but dose that mean I have declared defeat, not as far as I know, but then again, most of the time I dont really know much.

The voices made there debut only 4 years ago, in comparecant to all the girls with me, I am a new comer apparently.

they form a fortress around your brain, locking thoughts and influences from coming in and out.

the whispers consumed all that surrounds me, they came out of the tv, the radio, at some point even the light bulb spoke to me, all announcing the same declaration, you are absolutely worthless, why should you even live.

at first I thought they were mere insecurities, scarcely anything to worry about.

tell my insecurities started talking to me taking the shapes of bizarre creatures.

it felt as if I was living in a prison of my own mind, aliens wanted to abduct me, terrorist held me hostage, all withing the few yards that are my apartment.

my mother came to visit me, only to discover the shrine which was my apartment and the disarray which was me.

she at first thought that I was on drugs, she tested me, and I passed.

there was only one other probability, one which she so grievously attempted to nudge away, however she eventually caved in and took me to the psychologist.

after further examination , the doctor spoke one word, that changed my life as I know it.

schizophrenia.

a mental illness , with side effects such as delusions and paranoia

the word schizophrenia became my life, it labeled me, consumed me, and took full control of every thought, hope, dream, nightmare.

oh yes, nightmare, I sure as hell had a whole lot of those.

all my writings became hallucination, my paintings blur, all passion turned into pure and utter hopless hatred.

my mother, recommended by my doctor, put me where I am, this mental institution, this hospital, this cage, this home.

it terrifies me, I consider it home, the girls here more friends to me my own sisters, the medicine better then any food, the nurses touch, better then my own mothers.

I am being discharged in a week, I wont go back, no to where I am all alone, under the complete mercy of my very own demons.

I wouldnt allow it.

"hello cassy" here it begins, ok, haah, hoooh, take another deep breath, haaah hoooh "doctor, oh doctor I need hepl I really need help" the doctor wasnt as concerned as I hoped, another breath"Benjamen franklin wants me to die doctor, I was reading a book yesterday, and he told me so, he says If I dont I am going to destroy this whole building, doctor I am afraid, everyone`s safety and well being is at risk! you must do something"

out of breath I just stared at him, now I could see genuine concern in his eyes, much more sincere then my own father`s who hasnt visited me once since I have been here, how am I suppose to leave, and head back to them.

"oh, relax cassy, its all going to be all right" he itched his bald spot, and whispers something to the nurse, who went to git my medication.

thank god.

I am not going any were.

I do realize this only emphasizes the level of my insanity,

But

it also sequres my happines.

Breathless

Its Sunday morning, I had already drank my cup of coffee, and in this magnificent place that is new York city, no one is empty handed, no one is free minded.

I throw my hat on, and I am good to go, It feels as if this day has no point or purpose,and each and every one of my idle thought are about to emerge in hours and hours to come of there ceaseless companions, more idleness.

I am counting the hours to which I must endure this ungodly Sunday.

I must find me a distraction.

step step step, I inter the library, and dive into the great books with there endless tales.

hours pass by, mission accomplished, I am distracted.

I walk out and and the sun has sintered in the middle of the sky, is it the afternoon already?

another distraction catches my eye, its quite an exquisite one.

a small female with a pixie short hair, strutten the streets of new York..

"hello there" I swoop in and take my hat off knowing that its 1960, and chivalry is slowly slowly dying, I reckon a gal could appreciate a move like this.

"hey" she so coldly says, oh, I know what kind of girl she is, shes the extraordinarily crewel kind, the beautiful and the holding back kind..

"what`cha doin" I say, trying to somehow smooth my way in.

she, standing with her back to me only turns her head to my direction, "non of your goddamn buisness thats what I am doin"

and shes got quit a mouth on her, oh I know exactly what to do...

"oh, I am sorry if I have disturbed you ma`m, good day" I say, with a slightly offended look on my face, take my hat off once more, and slowly slowly walk away waiting for her to..

"wait" it always works "um, well, I cell newspapers if that interests you?"

I stop, turn around, and draw a wide smile on my face, as if the offence that I previously felt, has now magically disappeared.

I smiled coyly and looked down at an attempt to charm her..

"well look at that, inst it my lucky day!" I said, she stared and smiled polity, it was clear that she wasn't falling for any of my hard efforts, she was only being polite, but that only made me want her more..

"I havent gotten my news paper yet" she again, forced a smile.

"well , there you go sir"

"thank you ma`m"

I walked away, lit my Cuban tobacco, and tried to find some sort of a loop whole...

I slowed my steps down , hoping to have come with the answer before its too late.

I took two steps forward, and there it is ! a coffee shop,right next to the girl`s little newspaper place or whatever she likes to call it, and its out doors, right next to her.

perfect.

I feel like a creep though, yes she is a show stopper, however, dose that give me the right to pursue her so intensely?

in my moment of wearisome , I took a seat at the coffee house, and saw her right in front of me, laughing and talking, and smiling, it was uncanny, I cant let her go!

I wont.

she turned around from her customer, to count the money, and caught my glance, she smiled, this time it was sincere, why this time I wonder, wow, she`s so intangible !, again it only made me want her more..

shes walking, shes getting closer, is she walking my direction? I turn around just to chick..

"hello there, I see your still here" she says and smiles again, who am I? I cant recognize my self anymore! about 15 minuets ago, I was the bachelor of the town, so unaffected by women and there mere charm, so confident and carefree, but the person I am now is much like a little child, so terrified by her approach.

I take a deep breath and try to cling to what little composure I have left.

" well I came to the coffee house to drink a cup with my news paper" I say with a forced smile, that hides the shivers underneath.

wow, I ma shaken?

I mentally slap my self out of it.

"well, where is it" she says, confused I ask " wheres what?" "the news paper" I pause for a second to take in what she said, what should I say, "well my coffee isn't here yet so, you know"

wow, that was impressive, my composer is officially back on !

"do you mind if I join you" she said so gently, I glared at her, " sure , sure " I quickly replied.

pulling a seat for her..

we talked..

then walked..

then talked some more

in this idle Sunday , in this ungodly Sunday, I met the one whom with , I spent the rest of my life.

author note

( this story wasn't inspired by the movie breathless, the source of the picture, I have never seen it, that picture inspired me, so I wrote it)