An old fear

The sky darkened

as a new snow fell

The people awoken to see

What would be a miracle

Snow in summer

Such a pleasant surprise

And bright too

Even at night

Such a strange sky

Blood red

This was no new snow though

As tongues turned up at the sour

new taste

The children complain

of burning

then the fear sets in

It won't be long now

The sirens scream

like vultures

alerting the prey to

their fate

No need to run

No need to hide

So the children

and the parents

and the lonely souls

sit

and they wait

until the sirens stop

Long time no writing

You know what the worst thing in the world is?

No

not that

not genocide

murder

rape

those are all awful

but I'm terribly selfish

The worst thing in the world

is dreaming

not of the future

the past

or the present

not really

It is

dreaming of those we lost

like they're alive

they've come back

But not really

it's all a fucking lie

and when you wake up

then it really hits you

Like the worst thing in the world.

A story based on a dream, the dream was better

There is a party in a fairly upscale part of Hollywood. There are a lot of big names there, or at least that is what the host, Juan, is told. He doesn't know just about anyone at the party, though he thinks he recognizes some of them. Juan is fairly short and has short black wear, often wearing the single cheap suit that he owns. He is socializing with everyone, making sure to get his name spread around because at least someone has to remember the host right? This is what he believes, and though it is a tad farcical he may be right, someone will remember him.

He is not alone at this party however, as his boyfriend is also there. His name is Tom and he has been an extra in several films. Juan knows he has been cheating on him, and he knows who with. There is a movie producer named Robert who lives at approximately the half-way point between their two houses, and they have been doing nefarious deeds for sometime now. He has no proof of course, but he knows it deep down in his heart and it is killing him.

That is not the face he puts on at the party however, as he makes sure to greet every guest with the same big smile, and the same compliments about hair or skin or clothes. It has never really mattered to him but he knows appearance is of utmost importance to so many of these other people. He is waiting for someone, though he isn't really sure quite who. He knows it is crucial that he looks for them at the party however, so he wanders around looking for this person who is of utmost importance. On his way he runs into Tom and they simply stare at one another.

"I'm so glad to see you here. It's quite busy here isn't it, really full party. This will be good for you right?" This was Tom, in his surest tones. "I mean I see, a lot of big names. Surprised so many could come really." He looks casually around.

"Yes, it's fantastic, really. I'm sorry I can't really talk now though, got lots of socializing to do." Juan placed emphasis on the word socializing as he stared at Tom. It seemed he didn't get the hint though, and they both walked off like two ships passing in the night. Bastard, Juan thought. He passed someone he thought might be a famous actor but upon tapping his shoulder it turned out to be no one, just a drunk amongst a horde of them. Shrugging his shoulders Juan walked on. He wonders if everyone is just lying to him about this party, if everyone there is just a bunch of no names like him and this entire thing was pointless.

He doesn't let such negative thoughts linger for too long however, he had someone important to find. He guessed he had searched his entire apartment so squeezed past a couple dancing before emerging onto the tiny balcony that overlooked the industrial portion of the city. He had thought there was no one out there, but just as he was beginning to get lost in his own thoughts a quiet voice spoke up next to him.

"Quite a view isn't it? I've always admired the works of humanity. The trash and the treasure." Juan turned to look at the man. He stood at about six feet tall and was completely unassuming otherwise, wearing a white button-down shirt and black pants, with a plain black tie. If he had to guess this man was an accountant, or maybe a shoe salesman. "I'm sorry I didn't introduce myself. I'm just an observer, not one of these Hollywood types. Hmm, yes it's a nice view."

"Um, yeah I guess it is."

"It really isn't though. That's what all the people here will tell you, that it's a nice view. They'll only say that if you say it first though." Now the man was staring into Juan's eyes and he realized there was something strange about this man. His eyes were incredibly intense, and they had so little color that they seemed to blend in with the rest of his face, just a little black dot that showed where he was looking. "Do you keep your cash underneath your bed or in your toilet?"

"The bed. I mean what?"

"Thank you, that's all I need to know. I bid you good night."

"But, but I don't even know who you are."

"Me, I'm no one. Just a regular Joe Schmoe I suppose. Sorry for taking your time." And with that he left and Juan was left alone on the balcony like he always thought he was. He stared out at all the waste that was made, human and otherwise, and wondered what it was all for. He was not sure how long he was out there, but by the time he went back inside there was almost no one left. Tom had left, as had everyone who was worth anything, or at least those who said they were. It didn't really matter though as Juan collapsed to the one seat that seemed relatively clean.

Across from him sat a man in a suit from some upscale dress outlet, Juan could never tell them apart. He figured he should start a conversation, but his mind was in such a strange place he couldn't even think to ask the man who he was or what he did. "Hello, I was wondering, do you think hitmen feel bad when they kill murderers?" That was an odd thing to say Juan thought even as he spoke. The other man stared at him, not confused but somewhat amused.

"Well in the end most hitmen are simply people like us right, regular Joe Schmoes. They probably don't feel good, but they also don't feel too bad right. It's just a job in the end, admittedly a bit more exciting than what you do." He had a point Juan supposed as he lay back in his seat. It had been a long night and sleep slowly curled around him and his eyes slowly closed as he saw a few people pass by heading for the door. It had been a good party he thought, after all he met someone important, maybe even more than one. Just before he lost all consciousness he saw the door close one more time and a receipt was tacked to the back of it. He couldn't see what it said.

Dared to Move

There are people moving
All around
But yet
I seem to stay

Still

I want to go
To move on
But the monster
holds me back

He is not large
In fact he's really not there at all
Just a void
Grabbing me
Holding
If I let go he dies and he can't let that
I can't

Maybe it would be better
To quit it all
Away
Forever free
I know
It won't
But sometimes I wish
I could just move

'tis the season

Only one country
would reduce all the colors
and smells
and texture
and life
and death
to a simple word
Fall

A Night in Scotland

There is a lonely man sitting on a cliff just off the edges of civilization somewhere in the hills of Scotland. He doesn't quite remember getting there, though he knows why he came. He wears a tattered suit and his skin is as white as the foam beneath him. Really all he wanted was to be alone for once in his very, very long life but alas, he couldn't even get that. Beside him now sits a woman wearing what looks something like a funeral gown, frightening thin though it is she does not seem to be bothered by the cold. Both of them have their legs hanging out over the oblivion beneath. There is silence aside from the sea. Finally the man speaks.

"I don't know why you're here but I don't think it's for the right reasons. Of course I'm not sure I'm here for the right reasons. In fact I'm no longer sure if any of us are here for the right reasons. Maybe I'm just musin', been known to do that on occasion. It wasn't your business that started this, I just want you to know that. Certainly didn't help though, but didn't cause this. Nothing really caused this, I mean it's just time right, starts and end all things. Bit odd though isn't it, I never met him. Don't even know if he exists, only one who'd know that and doubt she's telling. Don't mean to drone on though, sure there's something you want to say. Some explanation I suppose, well I'm all ears."

The woman bit her lip and looked at the man. Her eyes were as white as the first snow yet radiated immense darkness. "What happened between us, do you know why? I suppose you must, after all you seem to know everything don't you. I know a great many things, or at least thought I did, but even still I'm not sure why it had to happen like it did. I guess he was just tired, I mean we all get tired, the days stretch on and on. Oh sorry, I didn't mean to pun. He just, he gets a bit sensitive sometimes and acts very rashly. He didn't mean anything by it. After you left we sorted some things out, I mean it'll be years before I trust or even see him again but it's all a bit better now. He won't have me killed again at least, and that's better than nothing."

"That's not why I'm here though. I've put all that behind me, and you should too. I'm here because you need somebody and you seem afraid to call her. You know she'd come and listen right? She'd protect you from whatever you're running from. Life, she would understand what you're going to more than any of us." The woman looks at the man inquisitively. "Or is it because of her, has something happened?"

"No, nothing has happened. That's the problem though, right. She's been around for ages and I haven't. No matter what I remember or what I've been through she will have always seen more and lived more. She's the progenitor right, and I'm just, I'm nothing compared to that. None of us are. I mean what do you do? Don't mean nothing by it but she is, she's on a 'nother level right. That's why I can't talk to her, I just feel like I ain't in it now. I don't know if you get what I mean, it's a bit much even for me and I been around a long time."

The woman shakes her head as she looks at the man who simply trails off and stairs out at the sea and the setting sun. "You idiot. She loves you you know. I know she loves everyone but you, she loves you the most. If you just go to her, if you talk to her she will help you. I know you didn't come out here just to think, and I can even hazard a guess as to what you're planning to do. Problem is though, you know it won't work. You seen the death of everything right. Nah, that's not right. You see the death of everything, right now, at this very moment. You can see it all come to an end, but you can't see your own. That's what's troubling you isn't it? You don't see the mantle passing and you don't know what it means."

"I got a few words for that, and though I haven't been around for that long here's what I think. You know things about everyone else right, you know the end of the fish down there and the tree up here and even this whole thing we're standing on, but you don't know shit about yourself do you? That's the way it's supposed to work I figure. For things like us, it isn't all predetermined. You explained it once though didn't you, you know the date and the time but you don't know where to be until that exact moment. You don't choose when your hourglass runs out but you do choose where and why right? Or at least the lucky ones do. That's how it works for all this real stuff, but we are different aren't we? You can't see my thread can you?"

The man called Death stared at her. "No, no I can't can I."

"It's the uncertainty then right, that's what scares you. Bit bloody ironic then isn't it, only thing that Death is afraid of is death. Same situation with the rest of us. I live through the night, the dreams and hidden desires of the world, but often I don't know what the fuck I'm doing, especially after that thing with Day. I shouldn't need to know though. I should just accept things as they happen, and try to make the world a bit of a better place. That's what I'm going to do, but what about you, I suppose that's the million dollar question."

"I could jump I suppose. Land in the water or on the rocks I don't think it would matter. That could be my end."

"You don't believe that."

"No. If I did jump I think I would just emerge somewhere else. There are a thousand people dieing right now and there will be more every second until this all comes to an end. If I were to leap I think I'd just be in Prague, or maybe Nigeria, or any other place where the dead need escorting. You know what they say, there are only two things that are certain in life, death and taxes. I'm not so sure about that second one. I help people though, not even just the dead ones either. I helped a little girl, and a broken man, and a poor old sinner. Some asked and others begged but it didn't really matter, I would have helped either way. I guess that's why I'm still here, I just wish, hmm, I don't know."

Death stood up and walked over to the nearest tree. The leaves on it had already fallen onto the ground and into the sea and it was stripped bare. There was a small hole in the bark and he reach in and brought out a shivering bird. He brought it close to his mouth and whispered something into its ear. Pulling it back he released it and it sped off away from the sea, never looking back. "Sometimes I just want to have it all done with. I mean I lived a good life, a solid two hundred years which is a bit better than most I figure. Didn't like my work for any of it, but that just comes with the territory I suppose. Problem is though I can't leave this job on some poor cunt, because I've been doing it for so long it's just part of me now. You ever wonder about the creator? The one before all? I do, every day, but 'course only one who met him was Life right, and she ain't talking, not about the big stuff."

Walking back over to the cliffside Death stretches and yawns. "It's my vigil now though. From now until then, I'll be the one to catch 'em when they fall. Don't like it, but I'm not sposed to I reckon. Well, what do you figure about all of this. Think I'll head off soon, right once the sun goes down. Got work to do right?"

Night stood up and took Death's hands. "You are a great man for taking on this task. Others of us, we were born gods. I have never known anything else but you, you have been mortal. There are tales, whispers of ways to circumvent and cheat and steal mortality, even if only for a moment. I have considered it, I have even sought it, but I will never be mortal and I acknowledge this. It is best not to tread the lines between worlds as it is only pain that lies on either side. I would die a thousand deaths to have lived the way you have. It may be of little comfort but know that all of us have hope because of you. A mortal who became a god not because he had to but because there was no one else who could."

"I have watched you, and even with the greatest burden you have born it the best. Nothing more could be asked, in that you have endured longer than any before you, but I must beg you, do not give up hope. I love you truly, more than any of the others who have taken on your task. I have no right to ask the impossible of you but I feel I must. Please exist, if only for another day, for another year. I know you see so much pain and it hurts you so but only because you are so human, so true." Night looked out over the darkening sky. "I have to go now, you do as well. Whatever you decide to do next you will be remembered. Au revoire." She kissed Death on the forehead and walked out into the night, passed the stars and moon and into the sky.

Soon the full moon had risen and cast a great reflection on the sea, illuminating the cliff in full. There was no longer a man there, only a tree which had been stripped bare, but now had a single leaf holding on to the end of its longest branch. It fluttered in the wind but it did not let go and soon it let up. Then there was only slow swooshing of the water's waves below.

Paintings

Her blood was charcoal
Dark as midnight
Spread about the page
Haphazard
Smeared
Unsure

He didn't mean it
No one ever really does
And yet it lay there
Still
Unmoving
Breathing

Just barely
On the edge
Afraid to go
Nowhere
Exile
Eternity

It all washes away
The colors turn to fade
As the boy turns away
Done
Finished
Gone

Tick Tock

The time ticks away
I don't know where it goes
Someday maybe
I'd like to find that place
But not now

I wish I could take it all back
No
That's not right
I'd take most back
Not all though
There were good times

I want to go back
Back when everyone lived and
No one was dead
Now they're all gone
Dead
Forgotten

Doesn't really matter though
I don't mean it
It's fine now
I lie to myself everyday
To make it better
To make it worse

In the end it all comes back
Doesn't it?
Just grains of sand
Tick
Tick
Ticking away

That Escalated Quickly

'Honestly I had the best time tonight, I think it might have been the best day of my life. If I died tomorrow I would die happy.' That was the last thing I ever heard from Tom. That's not to say it was the last time I saw him, no one ever really saw him at the end. It's just the way it is when people die I suppose, they tend to fade away just out of vision. There was no note, nothing to explain why he had given up on us, nor a thank you or an apology or anything. I think it was his mom that found him, in the bathtub. She had it the worst really, worse than any of the rest of us.

There was no casket. Wasn't really much of a funeral either really. We all gathered around and meaningless words that no one I knew had wrote were spouted, then we all left and had dainty little foods to try to fill a whole. I don't remember what happened after that. I suppose I must have gotten really drunk, after all there was wine and everyone was doing it. Once I thought I could drown all my sorrows. When you try it for long enough you realize they just tend to float to the surface and they don't  need air to survive, they will always be there.

I remember though, maybe a couple of days later, I found something of his. Some jacket or something and I just sat there staring at it. It shouldn't have meant anything, after all it was just clothes. Tom never cared about them, I never did as well, but it became something more than that right at that moment. I suppose, it must have been a symbol to me then. All the grief, all the sorrow, all the hurt, all bottled up into that small thing. I burned it right then and there, almost caught the house on fire. Dad came in and ran out and grabbed a bucket and put it out, but I don't remember that too well. I remember staring at the fire and wishing it would just consume everything.

Suppose that was when I decided to try to do just that. I figured if it all went away then it would be better right? If everyone was dead then it'd be like no one was. Wasn't sure how I was going to do this, after all I was just a fucking kid right, just a bit player in the grand world. That wouldn't last though, after all nothing lasts for that long. Time passed and I still set out to do this great thing, to end the world. I really thought I was something, better than all the other mortals right, basically a god. A god with no followers and no knowledge and no power, yeah I was really something.

Thing I did have though, that was an idea. Turns out idiots will flock to ideas like sheep, or lemmings. Send 'em to a cliff and enough of them will say 'alright', and jump off. Cult is the right word for it I suppose. Went around to colleges, looking for disillusioned young youth like myself, tried to drum up something. Turns out it's pretty easy when the world is set up with so much sadness. Maybe set up is the wrong word, I suppose it simply invites it, it's the humans that do all the nonsense. They have children to fight with, and send them off once they're done with the whole raising thing. Plenty of kids who didn't like that, wanted some revenge.

So we got this movement, most called it the Suicide Club. Bit of a silly name, misnomer really, but it stuck and when something sticks it's damn near impossible to get rid of. So what does any rational human being do when he gets a group of maybe a thousand college students following him? Declare war on the government isn't it. So that's what we did, thought we were so much better than we were and so we declared anarchy in a little town off the side of Michigan. Our final struggle we called it. Problem was, no one seemed to care. We got featured in a few newspapers, television had a thing, and then nothing.

Worst thing for people like us was to get ignored, and it was all that happened. Made the whole group a bit mad right, and when a little insanity sneaks its way into a cult it isn't long before the whole thing goes up in flames. So we decide best thing to do is go kidnap people, start killing them. That'll get the attention of the government we cried as we rampaged through the town. Well, we were right. Got the attention of the police, the military, and a dozen armed countrymen. Turns out when you don't have guns you don't have power.

We had hostages though, and we did the only thing possible. We committed the cardinal sin, and started murdering them. That bit of madness overtook everyone and it all went to shit. The blood started pouring and it didn't end for a night. Next day comes and everyone is standing around bloody, crying, and insane out of their brains. No one could handle it, I know I couldn't. In the end one dozen died and we were all sent to prison for a very long time, especially me. It began with death right, had to end with it. Just the way of things I suppose.

Nonsense Creatures

Allow me to tell you a story. It is about the creatures that crawl from the woods, the ones that most would call monsters. It's not really fair to them though, after all they did nothing wrong. They look uglier than sin but that is no reason to judge them. They have enormous teeth that seems to be larger than is possible but they are not made for chomping on little children's bits and pieces, just made for eating the trees and the grass. They have eight little legs and two larger ones and they slither across the ground like a grotesque cockaroach, but they mean no harm in it. They only want to live just like the rest of the world, and yet they are cast out like they mean nothing.

They used to have a name, back when people didn't hate what was different quite so much. They were called the 'nowhere people', for they always seemed to be moving and no one quite accepted them. They weren't driven out though, just no one wanted to quite live with them. It might have been the slime, people were never really fond of slime and the nowheres tended to drag it around wherever they went. Part of that of course was that they were missing their lower jaw, so they couldn't contain all the liquid that built up in their mouths. The mess just kind of built up wherever they were and no one liked that. Wasn't really their fault though, they were just made that way.

I met one once who was quite friendly though. They can't speak, on account of the missing tongue, so he just kind of made noises at me. They were almost certainly happy noises though, as I didn't try to throw him out, or kill him like so many others had. It's difficult though because if they stop moving for too long they die. I grew to really like him though, as the world seemed to collapse around me and this little nowhere man just didn't seem to care. He was always so happy to see me again, like a little dog, or a significant other. He left though, because he had to, and I don't blame him for it, not really. I mean it's not easy when you only have half a heart.

I blame the Foozles really. They often showed up in the same forests as the nowhere people. They were small, and fluffy, and had just the right number of limbs. They also came in a variety of colors including pink and yellow and a delightful shade of purple. They made adorable noises and didn't make any mess. All the kids loved them and wanted them as pets, and there were more than enough that were willing to oblige. The nowhere people only came in one shade, and it was a puke blue, if such a thing exists. They drank in the sunlight dragging it away from the rest of the world unlike the Foozles who positively radiated with life. It is difficult to say how intelligent any of them really where, but I always felt the Foozles were more like cats, they knew what was going on and how to exploit it much more than the nowhere people who were always left in the rain.

One day I found a dead one surrounded by a group of Foozles. There was no blood on their hands but I could see the murder in their eyes. They are ferocious little beasts when provoked, with tiny teeth that inject just enough venom to burn, but not to kill. Apparently with enough of them though it sucks the life out of a creature, leaving it wilted and broken. This is what happened to one of the nowhere people, and likely what would have happened to me if I hadn't just kept walking. I still look back on that day as the closest I have come to death. I fear for those things even still, and take careful watch of them, especially those kept as pets. Maybe it's just my own paranoia, but I often see them staring at me with their soulless black eyes.

That's the real difference between the two, the thing that sets them apart. The nowhere people have eyes full of expression, full of the pain and suffering they go through everyday, and they are honest eyes. There is a soul behind those eyes. The Foozles have nothing, they care about nothing and are willing to destroy anything that gets in their way. It is all in the eyes really, they tell the real truth. Someone made a theory once, that all the sinners of the world get reincarnated as one of the nowhere people, though in the paper he called them Vanhooligans. He also stated that the obvious parallel is those who were good in life became Foozles, treated with respect and admiration. I think he may have gotten them switched around.

Unhappiness

Sometimes it is all-consuming
Others just the fly
Buzzing
Always at the ear but never really
there

Doesn't matter though
Same feeling
Just smaller
Less intense

It is not hate
not for life
more of a dull
pain

s
t
r
e
t
c
h
i
n
g

on for ever and ever

It is what fills your mind with doubt
It is why you didn't ask her out
It isn't the cause though
Merely a symptom

If you can't ask for help
You can't treat the symptom
If you can't treat the symptom
Then the cause is too far off
If it is too far gone
Then I may as well be too.

A couple poems

Who but sinners
have cried
for Satan

The saddest soul of them all
Alone
Afraid
Always hurting
No respite
No forgiveness

Noone prays
Not for safety
Not for shelter
He saves them
And they damn him

Without his hell
There is
Nothing

He stops the void
And is ne'er repayed

---------------------

The raven tolls
He tolls on whole
The death knell rolls
Across the knoll

Fire Starter

Sometimes it seems the world is on fire. No one else seems to see it, but when the reds and oranges light up the ground and the trees seem about to burst it would seem there is no denying it. There are a lot of things I would think are impossible to deny, but that doesn't seem to stop people. The collective of humanity seems to be pretty good at denying things. We don't seem to see the course of war and destruction we've set ourselves on, nor the ever increasing threat of utter annihilation through weapons we are far from capable of building let alone using.

But like I said, we choose to deny it. I suppose sometimes it is better that way. If I can't see it then it must  not exist gets a lot of people through their everyday life. I suppose it works for me whenever the fire starts, when it seems that the world should explode and eventually it does not. That's how we will survive in the end, we will disbelieve the illusion. Sometimes I wonder if the fire is not real, if that is the only reason that I'm the one to see it, not the fire department or the police or the government. That can't be true though, I'd have to be crazy.

Besides, I can't be crazy because I met a woman once who saw it too. It only made sense really, she was just about made of fire. From her hair to her boots she exuded a certain heat, one that warped the world around her and created a barrier that few were willing to pass. Others fire was small, enough to burn beneath them and give them drive but not hers, no hers shown bright through her and that was too much for the rest of the world. It was just right for me though, after all I had grown used to it after awhile. When the fires come daily they just don't bother you after awhile.

She seemed to mind them though. I remember asking her one time, when everything seemed to be going wrong and the colors were blindingly bright. She said it killed her every time she saw them, that she wouldn't be around for too many more. It turns out when your fire burns hot enough it extinguishes itself pretty fast. It wasn't her fault though, and I like to think that it wasn't mine. I suppose I'm getting ahead of myself though, I should talk about when we met. That was a much better day, the leaves were green and not black and charred, and the whole world was bright but not burning.

It was a long summer day, one of those that never seems to end, especially when you spend it outside. I was working then, just as I should be now, weeding fields to make the food come sooner for all the people who wanted it but didn't really need it. Such is the way of the world I suppose. It was just as the sun was highest, burning me as I kneeled over. I looked up to wipe some of the dirt and sweat off my brow and she appeared on a hill in the distance. I couldn't make out any exact features, merely the radiance that exuded from her. That was enough though, as I threw down my work and went over to her.

As I left a few of my fellow workers watched, then looked at the girl. Most averted their gaze, turned away from something that seemed to be so powerful it must be unreal. A few looked back to me for something like guidance, maybe searching for the reason I would abandon everything to go to something which was likely only a mirage. Even to this day I'm still not sure she was entirely real, there was something about her that seemed so much more than the rest of the world. It didn't matter to me though, and I strode confidently up the hill.

As I began my ascent she gazed down at me, and browsed the rest of the workers. Apparently dissatisfied she turned back to me and I saw her eyes, piercing me and almost burning me. Those eyes were something truly special, like the inner core of the sun they were so intense. I know it seems wrong but even now that is all I think of when I remember those times. The rest is lost to the ages but I will never forget those beautiful soulful orbs.

The beginning of something

There was a boy not too long ago who decided he wanted to travel across the country. Not too unusual, that desire to do something different, but this boy was unique. See he had no money, he had no car, and he had no plan. He figured that the whole thing wasn't so big, not really, he could just walk the place. Don't get me wrong though, this boy was extraordinary at walking, first in his class really. I'd seen him walk around the city twice just because he could. He loved moving around, even if it was for nothing, but his plan was nothing short of suicidal, and I told him as much. Didn't bother him though, didn't bother him when the entire world said he was wrong. Was just his way I suppose.

So this boy sets out, carrying a backpack with a bottle of water, a map, and a book and pens. He decided he would chronicle the whole thing. Of course I kept telling him not to go, even as he was leaving. Offered to drive him to wherever he wanted to go, to help him out with whatever he needed. Wasn't his way though I suppose, and he left all the same. I mourned for him for awhile, as long as seemed right. Figured I'd never see the boy again, and I suppose I never did. It was oh, just shy of a year later, maybe nine months when we heard anything about him.

Other side of the country someone had found his book, which had his name an address and had sent it back home. That was all there was though, no evidence of him, nor his bag. I went reading through the book, and it was longer than expected. Seemed there were nearly a thousand pages of notes, drawings, anecdotes and the lot. What does a reader do though when they're looking for answers, looking to find the truth of the whole thing? They turn to the end, so I decided to read the final entry. None of them were dated, so I just flipped to the back and found the nearest divide. It was long that ending, longer than anything else I reckoned.

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the world has changed now. I couldn't say when, there was a point where everything sort of mystified for me. I mean it all just went crazy right, the people didnt know what they really wanted and so they tried to get anything. I never understood that. Ive never wanted anything I suppose, so it makes sense that peoples needs mystify me. Maybe if I tried to be more human, to be less of me I would understand the materialism that seems to occupy everyone. They want me it seems, and I dont know why. Im not special, I figure im pretty much no one but thats not what they think. Maybe neither of us is really right, its all just a difference of opinion.

either way I dont think Ill becoming out of this one. There have been a few close shaves but I mean these people are so full of desire, their lust will destroy them and itll destroy me. If anyone finds this, and Im sure someone will just tell them that I loved them. I know it didnt seem that way, that at times I was brutish or cold, but it was just my way. Im sure they know that but still, I feel I need to say it now. Best way to make up for my sins would be to tell them all, tell the whole story. Some names will be changed to preserve the dignity of those involved, but all the events depicted below are true. Reading through them it seems Im a bit of a bad person, and I suppose I might be, its not my right to decide that.

I stole from a van on the first day of my travels. I had no food and they had lots, I figured they wouldnt mind. They probably didnt even  notice, they were members of the good and plenty, a happy family apart from the rest of the suffering in the world. I lied to get my way onto a train. I acted vulnerable to cheat my way through the barriers, said I had to get to my mother and father. I hurt someone in a bar. He insulted me and I could not let it go. I hurt someone in the middle of nowhere just because I could. I hurt someone and Im sorry.

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It continued on like that for pages and pages. Flipping to the first couple of entries they were very brief and mentioned nothing like the so-called sins that the boy did. It lead to a question, did he really write that last entry or did he simply lie in all his earlier entries? I thought I knew the boy, but he was always a drifter, apart from his friends and family and me. There were a few locations in his book, if I could only find them I might be able to figure out what had really happened to him. Sometimes all we need is a little closure, even if we only find misery at the end, it is better than not knowing.