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Peripheral Breathing
By
Shotgun011

Peripheral Breathing

It seems to me as I sit here that with every waking breath that’s been taken; I see some of what life has dealt to me from what seems to be a stacked deck. And with every sadness I deny, I feel a chance inside of me die. Wondering if I will ever be given a taste of something new, and be able to touch and hold something to see me through. Like I have been looking for a breath of life, with the slim possibility of finding a touch of heavenly light, to shine and guide me through this darkened life of mine.

Having fought many fights against an open flow from those rivers of blindness, of those lies and failures we all know. Having been given paper promises that I have been told are my own, and then wondering how to live with those instead of something sure? Life prepares the strangest things and causes us to be full of dreams we have of what we hope life brings us. But, like a cruel joke the highest highs can turn into the lowest lows that can kill, and sow the seeds they carry on stony ground.

And in those nights that stretch out like a long double edged blade that signal when the demons come, I find myself sometimes entering a room where all the good and bad guys I have been can be found, not unlike an actor meeting the cast of some sort of play. With the room being so quiet, and feeling a fever beginning to rage and spread from my head down to my legs, and recalling that I once had angels watching over, and out for me. And finding myself being asked; whose side am I on?

As music can sometimes be heard being played like a soundtrack to the proceedings. And asking what the orchestra is playing; and being told it’s Mozart or Bach, but it all sounds like bubblegum pop to me. Hearing the beast inside telling me to come with me now, as I am called out, like the sham friends and the users, and takers who sit by those whirlpools of lies near those rivers of blindness, they all have drained a cup from.

And although I haven’t been losing my mind, as many over the years have thought, but then again love and life weren’t the strangers they are now. And it seems my heart and mind are now nothing more than a hollow plain, giving the Devil a place to dance again. Making me remember when I stood out on a broken field and the sound of crippled white wings could be heard going by, with the harbingers of war, and their natures standing revealed.

Now needing a breath of a life along with a breath of honesty in the words spoken to help set me free, and to possibly receive a little touch of heavenly light, or another taste of a divine rush. In order to get a dream of life again, with a little vision of the sun’s dark light in the start and the end once again. Knowing that I have been here many times before, with no one else to blame, as I find myself walking down the road that I know so well alone. I feel as though I might have lost myself again, or that I might be broken again, wanting to give in and I know my heart won’t let me.

With sometimes having an unsafe feeling, but I know that there is a fine line that divides all things and is the borderline to the edge, as I make my way down the line with my escort being just my shadow. Causing me to wonder as I make my way down the line where friends appear and disappear like smoke, and remembering that memories need to be healed in order to remember those who have passed through, and learning how to live with them. Carrying our choices, hiding our regrets, with it maybe painful to smile but it covers some of those scars that are carried. Wondering if someday I will be remembered and missed by those I might have touched and leave behind when the grave is dug and a requiem is said over me?

Now feeling the shadows falling on me with darkness falling upon the door and wondering if I might have said too much? And should I just fold the hand I hold and ask for absolution for all I have been through? Yet knowing I may be Hell bound, and wondering if the Hail Mary’s may help me avoid that fate or where my kingdom come lies.

Wondering if I should do as Tom Waites said to offer: “Champagne to those real friends I have and a real pain to the sham friends?” Or simply do as Dylan suggested and; offer a fond farewell to those who stood the test of time like those first alliances. And bid the others a fare thee well and not give a damn? And ask that they not get up as I’m only passing through like some form of a wandering ghost.

Copyright Timberwolf International LTD: September 2015 – 9

This story is protected by International Copyright Law, by the author, all rights reserved. If found posted anywhere other than storiesspace.com with this note attached, it has been posted without my permission.

Copyright © Copyright Timberwolf International LTD. All rights reserved. Copyrighted and protected under the copyright laws of both The United States and of The United Kingdom. Under U. S. Code Title 17 § 204. No unauthorized duplication by any means including electronic, or copying may be allowed unless permission is asked for in writing and permission therefore granted by the author or copyright holder, or his/her agent. In writing and signed by the owner of the rights conveyed or such owner’s duly authorized agent. And duly witnessed by his or her representative or duly assigned agent. Under penalty of copyright infringement or intellectual property theft. All violators will be prosecuted.

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