Author Archives: Arcane Cognition

About Arcane Cognition

I write what i see. I write what I know. I write what I feel. I do not write what i think.

I Sit Alone

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I am alone, all in darkness,
I no longer love I am heartless.
Surrounded by a raging crowd,
I sit alone, I am not proud.
I love no one it’s such a shame,
I lost the love, I am to blame.
Misery’s not played by all,
I sit alone and go through withdrawl.
The love we shared is now gone.
I can no longer carry on.
Dreams are all I have to give,
I sit alone, no will to live.
All I wanted and needed was you,
You went away when I was blue,
Even though it was for a little while,
I sit alone, I can not smile.
When I needed you, you weren’t there,
I couldn’t tell you, I wouldn’t dare,
There is no hope now, I am gone,
I sit alone My sadness will last long.
You’ll never know how I needed you,
You’ll never know my love was true,
Life goes on in all it’s ways,
I sit alone, and will for days.

1989

The Dark Musty Alley

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Cries fill the dark, musty alley,
All the things that can not be.
The things we tried to stop,
The ones that came out on top.
Laughter fills the dark, musty alley,
All the things that would be,
The things they all did,
The ones who always lived.
Tears fill the dark, musty alley,
All the things that should be,
The times it didn’t work,
The ones who did, under dirt.
Sighs fill the dark, musty alley,
All the things that had to be,
The times that were shared,
The ones who always cared.
Screams fill the dark, musty alley,
All the things never to be,
The things that were done in vain,
The ones lucky enough to end the pain.
Anger fills the dark, musty alley,
All the things that need to be,
The times that were full of regret,
The ones we never can forget.
5/18/89

Absurd

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Dark and morbid til the light,
Silently dwindling with delight.
Teardrops of rainbows dried,
Fallen over the one’s that died.
No one knows of us beneath the sky,
Of how we live or how we die.
The screams we hear are all we know,
The attitude we attribute is “So”.
Laugh and wither with our sight,
So we may prowl upon the night.
Eat your flesh as the old,
Buying the souls that are sold.
Goodbye without a single word,
All because we are absurd.

1989

The year Nineteen Ninety-Seven

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Whirling, whirling, the world of Fate,
We lost our Princess, We lost our Saint.
Who will save the world from despair,
Is there another waiting out there?

Whirling, whirling, the world of News,
Everything changes, point of views.
And we now stand on the verge,
Of information we must purge.

Whirling, whirling, the world of Hate,
A request for peace, a standing to Late.
We watched with not so blind eyes,
As someone repeated their lies.

Whirling, whirling, the world of Transportation,
Where now clones can take teleportation.
And in the future I see,
The past returning back to me.

Whirling, whirling, the world of Fate,
Toss and turn till it’s too late.
For this will be a better year,
As I see the sky begin to clear.

12-31-97

Lottery 1

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    William Barrett had never been a lucky man. In all his 42 years he’d never met Lady Luck, though it never stopped him from looking.
    Card games, slot machines, online poker, even horses… William Barrett was always looking for Lady Luck in all the wrong places.
    It would suffice to say William Barrett was down on his luck, though he never let on how far down.
    His wife of thirteen years has taken their two children back to “Mothers” two weeks ago. She’d had enough of his get rich quick dreams. She was done going hungry over Love. She deserved better.
    The notice on the rent read, 30 days extended period denied, eviction if not paid in full by tomorrow. His wife had argued the lights on for the last time six weeks ago. The water had been off for two months.
    Sure, William Barrett tried to work. He’d been a waiter, a short order cook, a mover, and too many salesmen jobs to name. He just wasn’t successful at maintaining a job.
    The Tri-State Lottery was the highest it’d ever been, it was William’s last chance.
    The balls came up and the beautiful dark skinned woman pulled them out one by one. William stood mouth open as each number came up his. It was surreal.
    The next morning the eviction crew was at his door. They entered and began taking what few furnishings were left in the house. William woke up on the couch still holding his ticket.
    Without argument he left the house, to the local café. Jenny would put it on his Tab, his long running tab. The news blared over the breakfast crowd. The coffee was stale, and William noticed the lottery numbers come up on the screen.
    William reached in his pocket and pulled out the ticket, the numbers matched. The news anchor announced there was but one winning ticket sold. William met Lady Luck, but his joy never came. Gears clicked in his mind, who he owed, back tabs, bar tabs, food tabs… loan sharks.
    He looked at his salvation, his curse.
    He walked out of the café, ticket in hand. He walked down the street, under the freeway. There he saw a slender woman with medium length brown hair. He glanced at her, she was in her thirties. He walked up to her and handed her the ticket. He held up his right hand to her, motioning for her to stay back. He took a few steps backwards. Then slowly with his left hand he pulled out a revolver and stuck it to his temple. In one loud bang his luck had run out….
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Dark Rock

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     Maybe it was the coffee, or the joint, could have been the insomnia.  I got two hours of sleep last night.  The only trouble is when I close my eyes and dream, it’s not dream scapes I wander through.  It’s just one nightmarish hell after another.  It’s a good night that I don’t remember anything I dreamt.
     I long for the dreams of others, to have my teeth fall out or show up in public naked.  If I loose teeth in a dream it’s normally because someone has hit me and they are knocked loose somehow, one time they were shot out.  I’ve been naked several times, though no one has ever taken notice.  I wont even begin to explain that one.
     Nothing I dreamt before prepared me for this.
     I was sipping coffee, after having an after dinner toke.  I was playing some game or the other on a social networking site.  Just some random addiction to fill an otherwise boring uneventful evening. A painting I had bought at a starving artist exhibit hung on my wall.  A hill stood in the foreground, lush and green with sparse sprinklings of white wild flowers.  In the foreground was a grassy pasture.  A large willow stood to the left, twenty five percent of it was somewhere off the canvas.  On the right was a medium sized dark rock, framed perfectly on two sides with tall grass.
     I thought I saw a shadow of a rabbit run from behind the rock to behind the tree.  I wasn’t doing anything important.  I got up to look closer at the painting.  I reached over to touch the canvas.
     As my fingers touched the rough texture of the painting I felt a shock go through me.  For an instant the world was dark, then I stood alone on a pasture.
     The wind whipped against me furiously, I noticed my garments were from a different time frame.  And it was a good thing too, the fabric was so thick the wind did little to harm me.  It would have otherwise cut through me like a knife.  A full moon lit the landscape, but there was hardly any stars in the sky.  My hand still feeling a rough texture was on the back of a tree. I glanced up and turned around quickly to notice I was in my painting.
     I turned in the direction the shadow had run to and began to walk.
     After hours of walking, I could now hear the wind carrying more than autumn screams.   A violin or maybe a fiddle, was there a difference?  There was life out there.  I walked faster toward the music.  Slowly smells of burning wood filled the air, the music was louder as if beckoning me closer.  At last I saw a lone cabin.  Smoke poured from the chimney, and the lights blazed inside invitingly.  Music could be heard playing merrily yet, there was no barn, no garage, no cars, not even a mule.
     I walked closer and glanced in the windows of an obviously abandoned house.  A fire blazed in the fireplace, but there stood beside it no fireplace log holder or wood to feed the flame.  Music filled the atmosphere, but the house was empty of any kind of furniture.  There was light emitting from the ceiling, but looking at it scorched the eyes.  As soon as the black dot was gone from the center of my eye, I reached for the door handle.
     I clicked the latch handle and began to walk across the threshold.  I noticed out of the corner of my eye, a dark shadow figure peer out of the window at me.  As I stepped inside I glanced over but there was nothing.  An inspection of the entire cabin showed it to be completely empty.  It was clean, there was no dust or cobwebs.  The house smelled of pine as you walked room from room.
     I glanced out of the windows into the forest.  What was I going to do when I got hungry?  Wake up?  If I’m asleep then when does the nightmare part start.  I walked to the fire watching the flames dance to and fro playfully.  It was all so warm and comforting.
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Teenage Ghost

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     During the year nineteen seventy nine at boy scout camp, two eight year old boys discovered they were from the same town.  Jeffery and Evan were bunk mates at the beginning of camp.  Two weeks later by the end of camp they were blood bothers.
     When the boys returned home they found out they only lived five blocks from each other.  They became inseparable.
     All through middle school the pair could always be seen planning some sort of adventure for the coming weekend.  Every weekend they would explore some place new.  One time it was the abandoned house at the end of the lane, at night.  Another time it was the forest on the outskirts of town.
     Their favorite adventures however took place in Evan’s tree house.  Evan’s Grandpa built it for them during the summer of eighty two.  It had a wooden rope ladder to climb up, the door was a panel on the floor you had to push up to gain entry.  Hand painted on the door in huge black letters “No Girls Allowed”.    Once up in the tree house they would pull the ladder inside and  place an old suitcase full of books over the panel.
     They would travel to planets unknown facing fear and lack of oxygen to fight aliens never before seen, saving the human race before mission control recalled them for nourishment.  Pirate the seven seas and plunder til the moon rose high into the sky and only the crickets remained singing their victory songs.
     When the summer of nineteen eighty six started Jeff noticed his friend Evan becoming more distant.  Spending more time with Celice, Janice, and sometimes Rachel, three girls from school.  Jeff pleaded with Evan to spend more time with him.
     Evan had simply found something that interested him more than aliens, rockets, and pirates.  He also was having a hard time understanding why Jeff was not interested in growing up.
     By the end of the summer of their fifteenth year Jeff and Evan had parted ways.  Evan began to chase girls and pursue their interests as if they were his own.  Jeff turned to books, having his imagination as his only friend.
     The first year of high school defined the two of them in different ways.  Jeff excelled in school, spending almost all his free time volunteering in the library.  He soon made friends with the Audio/Video Club and joined.  Evan found out girls like a bad boy, he began to hang out with smokers at the handball court in the back of the school.  It wasn’t long til he was accepted into the group of local stoners.
     And so this was how it went, for two years.  Jeff didn’t speak to Evan, Evan didn’t acknowledge Jeff’s existence.
     It was Valentines nineteen eighty eight.  Jeff and the Audio/Video Club had a dance planned.  “Techno Heart Beats”.  It was sold out.  The homecoming committee did the balloons, streamers, glitter, and ticket sales.  The A/V Club did the lighting, music, and various other special effects.  Most of the machines were donated by Greg’s dad, owner of “You Party Rentals”.  He had a puppy crush on Ms. Flatmore, head chaperone to the dance.
     It was also a memorable time of year because a troubled teen by the name of Vi Iamdoe transferring in from out of state somewhere.  Her clothes and her attitude left nothing to the imagination.  Her glare was like a razor, her touch was said to be like snow in late January.  Her dark eyes were an endless soulless pit of despair.  When she spoke her tone always hinted the tone, “Abandon all hope, Ye who enter here.”.  You could feel the darkness radiating off her.  Her flame of attraction rose like funeral pyre in an autumn gust.
     The party started with much success.  Revelers enjoyed themselves within their various cliches.   Evan and his stoner friends congregated towards the back watching the scene.
     Then in walked Vi.
     It was like a vampire had walked into the room as a vacuum simultaneously sucked the air out.  Everyone’s eyes turned.  Time seemed to slow, and the music seemed to fade into silence.  Jeff felt a ghost run over his grave, a cold chill ran up his back forcing the hairs on his neck to stand on end.
     Vi said nothing, she stood just past the entrance.  Her posture enforced the sharpness of her outfit.  Evan had one look at her and the sirens call had been too strong.
     All that night Evan and Vi could bee seen together, entwined as if lovers of ages past now reacquainted.
     Jeff watched the next two months as Evan and Vi became closer.  Vi with her penchant for hallucinogens and speed, soon had Evan following in close pursuit.  Jeff heard rumors.  Evan and Vi were running a scam in bars.  She would distract, he would pickpocket.  Then more rumors about heroin.  By the time October rolled around Jeff had had enough.
     On Halloween, the most sacred of sacred times the two had shared growing up he decided to confront his blood brother.  Between third and fourth he caught Evan going up the middle stairwell.
     Students pushed past the two acquaintances who seemed to be having a heated discussion as the tardy bell rang.  A few lingering students heard their shouting in the hall as they made their way into their classrooms.  No one knew what the argument was about.  No one really knew why a Nerd would be hassling a Stoner, or cared.
     Jeff pleaded with Evan to stop seeing Vi, he pleaded with his blood brother.  Out of his love, he cried tears of pain.  He pleaded and begged, he shouted and cursed.  Anything to make his closest friend in the world turn back to good.  He feared for Evan’s life on the path he now choose to tread.
     Evan tired of his friends nagging turned to walk up the remaining few stairs.
     Jeff in a last ditch effort reached for his friends jacket.
     Evan tired of the nagging, the judgment, the berating, belittling, holier than thou rantings… grabbed Jeff’s hand and forced it off his jacket.
     Jeff lost his footing in the scuffle and began to fall backwards.
     Evan tried to reach out and grab Jeff, but he was too slow.
     The memorial was on a Sunday.  The A/V Club put together a tribute.  Evan stood alone.
     He’d lost his taste for Vi.
 
     Decades passed at Deerborne High.  No one remembered Jeff from the Audio/Video club.  People passed his picture every day year after year and never glanced at it.  The story and his face hidden in the trophy case with a small caption.  Some people got a small chill when they passed through the middle stairwell.  Most would just avoid it all together, though no one could ever say why.
 
 
     There had been a rumor long ago, but it had long since been forgotten.
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Believers

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     “It’s ten AM.” Kyle looked up at the light grey haze.  He pulled his fishing rod out of the lake’s bank and began reeling in his empty line.
     Nick sat staring at the ripples without sound or movement.
     “I’m sorry about your sister.” Kyle added as he walked off towards his farm.
     Nick watched without thought as the ripples slowly turned back into a smooth unmoving surface.  “The life has gone from it”, Nick thought as he raised his eyes towards the far end of the lake.
     The night replayed again in his mind.
     He sat in the hallway.  Staring at the dark stained cedar paneling.  He sat on the floor, his right leg outstretched. He examined the top of his worn out school sneakers.  “School is finally over.” he thought.
     Three days earlier he walked from the playground at Bayfield Elementary.  Waving to Tom, Barry, and Kyle.  His three best friends in all the world.  He had two months of camp outs, look outs, fishing trips, and other stuff.  He recalled the groups plans for the week, “Martin’s dad was building a tree house…”
     “She did WHAT?!?!?” a scream and interrupted all activity in the house.
     Nick jumped up and ran to the living room to see his dad talking to police.  His mother pushed past him quickly.  “She ran off with Jules.” Nick thought, “That’s why she hasn’t been home for days.”
     “Carl what is it.” Sheila pushed past him to confront the police.  “No!” she gasped and took two steps back from the door.  Quickly she turned to Nick, “Go up to your room and play with something.”  “Now!” she added as if punishment would soon follow.
     Nick raced up the stairs, pounding them as hard as he could in protest.  Just as he slumped into his desk chair crossing his arms to pout, his mother’s wail filled the air.
     He raced as fast as he could back to the top of the stairs.  He watched as his mother sobbed violently on her knees.  One hand tightly grabbing one the officers shirt, the knuckles white from the force.  She had pulled the shirt free from it’s uniform tucked in status.  Now only the officer’s white undershirt remained tucked in neatly into his pants.  With her other white knuckled hand she clutched a photograph to her chest.  Nick could only see the white backing, but he knew it was his sister.  He became puzzled, “Why is she acting like this, she only ran away.”
     Carl looked up at the top of the stairs and saw Nick watching.  “Go to your room and close the door.” his voice was slightly annoyed.
     Nick retreated beyond the bannister.  He entered his room and stood behind the door.  He held it open a crack, and listened.  He heard nothing but mumbling for hours til at last his body gave out.  The adrenaline had left him, he was moved to sleep.

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Vampires

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     “I love Hollywood, don’t you? They make it easy to be a vampire. Everything is easier in the movies, but that’s not what I mean. They make vampire glitter. People used to fear vampires. I remember a time when an entire village would give up a toddler to save the rest of the children. It is easier now people actually offer themselves as food. They think we care or feel things, thanks to Hollywood. I feel two things, hunger and fatigue. Those are my two emotions. I am hungry I must eat. I am tired I must sleep. ” Jules explained to the girl with black hair.
     It was a quiet night the moon was full and bright, illuminating all around. They sat on Fullshire Hill, over looking Hamches. The black haired girl writing down every word he said with a pencil into her notebook. Every once in a while she would push her over grown bangs out of her way with her left hand. She wore fingerless black lace gloves which matched her tattered black cotton and lace dress. Her skin as pale as if death had already overtaken her. The black makeup on her face meant to shadow instead of project. She leaned slightly against Jules in a show of affection. Jules, a thin pale man with long brown hair. His skin was also the shade of a corpse, his eyes a strange shade of grey. He wore a Victorian brown suit with white lace.
     Staring into the distance at nothing, Jules continued. “It’s true we travel in clans for the most part, safety in numbers. People often mistake this for emotion. The truth is you’re just naturally drawn to the person who turned you, and want to protect them. Hollywood has made most vampires teenagers, and while there are some of course. In the clan I travel in there are none, but I guess Hollywood would say we are the bad guys anyway. The truth is, my clan is no different than any other clan.”
     “Hungry?” a voice from behind the couple questioned. Slowly ten other vampires emerged, seemingly out of nowhere.
     The young girl clung to her companion for protection. He seized the opportunity for first blood and sunk his teeth into her. Her eyes widened in fear, every muscle in her body flexed trying to get away. Her first and last scream filled the air. Her eyes glazed over and she fell limp.
     The rest of the clan rushed to the meal quickly. Like a pack of animals over a fresh kill, they fed quickly leaving only a bloodstained carcass to be picked over by scavengers.
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Forever

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     She looked at the photograph from her wedding.  A small tear began to form in the corner of her eye and a lump began to swell in her throat.  She remembered that day like it was yesterday, though it had only been two years before.  She thought he loved her and it would be forever.  She thought she was going to finally be happy.  All the fairy stories she’d read, all the dreams she’d mustered up in her head growing up.  She thought he was different than all the other men she had encountered before.  She thought he loved her.    She set the picture back down on the end table.  The tears poured forth out of her like a storm that would never pass.  The pain so sharp like a steel beam forever embedded into the center of her.  Creating the wound from which she would never heal.
     Her heart was broken.
     Forever was just a fairy tale.
     She glanced at the picture again.  It was just a blurry mass through the tears.  A square outline of run together watercolors, like a child’s painting left in the rain.
     She cried more thinking how her love was used and thrown into the garbage.  How worthless she was to the one man she adored and loved with all her heart.
     The one man she trusted.  The only man on the whole planet who’s opinion mattered to her.  The only person whom she wanted and desired approval from.  He did not love her.  She thought he did.  He did not accept her.  He rejected her.
     Was this all life is?  One disappointment after another?  Was she to live forever one pain to the next with only lulls of distress in-between?  Was this Life?  Was this all there is?
     She began searching.  Searching for an answer she knew she couldn’t decipher to a question she couldn’t phrase.  Searching for a direction besides the one she was on.  Searching for another emotion to feel, another way to see this, another way to think.  Searching desperately for anything to stop this pain.
     For a second her anguish turned to anger.  She thought he was different, but they are all the same.  They say they love you, they lie.  Love is accepting, patient, and kind.    If he loved her he would be with her. If he loved her he would help her through her problems not run away.  Run away like a child.  Her anger was fueled finally.  Not like a man, who stands up and faces his problems.  Not like a man who stands up and fights.
     Her tears had stopped and rage had began to fill her.  Where a steel beam had resided in her center now a fire of hate burned.  Burning slowly churning within her.  He said til death do we part, maybe it’s time for a funeral.  The fire within her began fuel her thoughts and motivate her to feed it.  Yes FEED it.  Make it grow.  End the pain, replace it with Hate.
     She turned to his things and began to destroy them one by one.
     Like he destroyed her.
     Everything he cared about.  Gone.
     As he did to her.
     She turned and glanced at sea of broken.  Broken like her insides.  Broken like her heart.  She still felt no better, she was not done.  She pulled his clothes out of the closets, out of the hampers.  Off the floor in the bathroom where he left it to lay for days.  She threw it all in the bathtub and lit it ablaze.
     She stood numbly watching the fire burn, but the heat could not warm her.  The pain was beginning to slowly creep back.  There was nothing left of his to destroy.  The walls began to grow black from the smoke.
     Black like her dead heart.
     The heart he broke.
     She sat on the floor and watched the ashes glow in the black tub.  It was all over.  She hugged her legs to her, but she would find no comfort there.  She knew she would never find comfort again.  It was all a lie.  All of it.  There was no fairy tale ending.  There is no reality called Love.  Love does not exist.
     It was actually freeing to accept it.  It makes logical sense.  Love is just a story like Santa Clause.  Something we tell people to make them happy, but it’s not real.  She used to believe it was real, but now she knew the truth.  It was just lies, things people tell each other to get things.  To do things for them.  To manipulate.  There was no such thing as Love.
     If there was no such thing as Love, then was no such thing as Caring.  In order to care about someone you have to love them. If Love is a lie then it’s true that nobody cares.  Care is just a lie.
     If this is all there is to life.  Going from one disappointment to another, one failure to another.  Nothing but pain and desperation.  Nothing but loneliness.  If Love is a lie, there is no reason to live.  There is no warmth, no caring. She didn’t want to live in that world.  Where no one cares for anyone, no one loves anyone.
     She felt so alone.  No one cares.  No one cares she’s in pain.  No one cares that she was in love, that she was capable of love.  In a world where there is no Love.  No one cares.
     No one.
     Especially not the man she married, the one she thought would love her forever.
     Forever ended.
     The steel beam was beginning to form in her center again.  It was just a splinter now but in an hours time she would be back to tears.  Tears that she knew would never stop as long as she breathed.
     She could end her pain now and not have to go through it anymore.  Her friends would tell her to pick up the pieces and move on.  To find someone else, but why would she do this to herself again.  Love isn’t real.  There’s no sense in trying.
     She felt calmer now.  It was easy to open the medicine cabinet and grab the pills.  After all, it was all a lie.  Life was all a lie.  Marriage.  Love.  All a lie.
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