chp 1

"An inner crumbling. Your structure is weak, unstable pieces tumble down into the darkness. Its like you're trying to grab onto something you know won't hold your weight. You're frustrated and waiting for it all to collapse onto you, so frantically, you begin to think of a way out, but all the answers seem like your typical impossible fantasy; flight, turning into a ghost, Spider Man. The task is daunting, and the thoughts are draining. It seems like the only option left is defeat."

"That is... quite troubling to hear, Clark," his doctor decided mechanically, "but when I asked about what you're feeling I meant in your rectum."

Clark disappointingly remembered the finger in his ass.

"Oh... um... just some tension, nothing irregular," he murmured uncomfortably.

"Right, well, I regret to inform you that you have a completely healthy colon and I'm not sure why you've been experiencing rectal bleeding," the doctor said to the wall clock. "Just try and eat healthier and if it persists then just give me a call."

The doctor left promptly, leaving Clark to deal with what was now a strange sense of abandonment.


On his way home, Clark pieced together the tatters of his life, trying desperately to fit them together to find the missing piece. Lately, life had felt grey and slow. A giant ticking clock constantly followed him, its noise drowning out all conversation, all music, all ambiance. The color red was no longer a bold and impassioned representation of the human life blood splattered across a canvas, it was the color fucking red. The warm nights no longer had thoughtful paces, but quick glances and ready hands. Home was hot rotting in a wet cave.  People were gentle ghosts.

And to top it all off rectal bleeding was now on the list of ever-growing troubles already plaguing his sickly mind.

Clark drove without music nowadays. It cluttered his thoughts. Buildings all felt the same rolling by without a tune, but when the car settled things felt more open. At stoplights his gaze would linger on the horizon of the trees, the shapes in the clouds, the people... that woman on the bench in the green dress.

Suddenly, Clark was attentive to his posture. The woman had smooth, flowing red hair.

"Like... like burning hot lava," he thought passionately.

Slender, pale skinned arms, shapely legs, an inviting bosom.; he imagined a blanketed hearth and warm melted chocolate.

Green eyes flashed up at him, from behind a small black book. She pointed lightly.

Clark turned to the now green stoplight, and merely blinked.

"Did I just hallucinate? Did the light just speak to me?" he wondered.

Moving down the road, he took one last glance in the rear view mirror.

"Anyway, she's probably a slut," Clark snapped at himself as he turned on the radio, "fuck girls like that."

♪Come and smile your cares away
In a far off land in the sun
Your mind won't have time to worry
You'll be having too much fun♪

The song reminded him of simpler times.

That night Clark searched the internet for answers.

Meditation can often be key to achieving a healthier mental state! Relaxing the mind and body has been shown to improve moods, stress levels, and overall function.

He scrolled down.

An easy way to begin the meditation process is to simply find a calm and quiet place, and begin to take deep, controlled breaths. Imagine your thoughts floating away from your mind and into the infinite universe. Erase the border between you and your environment.

He sat down in a position he had seen before on television, and began to count his breaths.

One, two, three, four. His doctor visit floated away.

One, two, three, four. His family, his work, they evaporated.

One, two, three, four. His breathing slowed, his began to forget his body.

One, two, three, four. The woman stared at him from the back of his brain.

One, two, three, four. The shining green eyes would not look away.

♪Come and smile your cares away

In a far off land in the sun

Your mind won't have time to worry

You'll be having too much fun♪

He gave up and receded into a shower.

I started to write again. Whether or not this is a short burst of inspiration or not I'm not quite sure yet. Maybe I just had a good idea and I wanted to put it into words. Anyway, I wrote it down and hopefully I can finish it. I've been spending a lot of time thinking. And when I say a lot, I mean a lot. For those not familiar with the happenings in my life I worked in Columbia for a bit and then when I came back to Springfield I found myself in a bit of a rut. Just as I was getting things started in Columbia it all came to a halt and I was thrust back into the arena that is the skullduggery of Springfield, Missouri. When I was younger I didn't get it. I thought it would be easy to escape a prison like this. But contrary to a recent movie with Sylvester Stalone and Ahnold Schwarzenegger might lead me to believe, escaping a prison is no easy matter. When I came back here I thought long and hard about what my next move would be. I decided I wanted to do something that meant a lot to me. I didn't just wanna conform to the normal nine to five that everyone else seemed to be doing, whether that be school, or a shitty ass fucking job. What I wanted to do was find a life that I could be happy with, even if it was less than ideal, at least I could justify it to myself and others. And the more I've thought about it the more I've come to realize that doesn't exist. Why doesn't it exist? I guess that's the question. I've just been a whirlwind of thinking and no action. I'm stuck inside my head. I can't escape this. Either way, I hope I'll continue my writing because until recently I didn't think anyone cared about it. I think people appreciate the post but hopefully nobody minds the ranting and whatever nonsense I typically spread.


- Marcus <3

Day 84 - The Skeleton

Finger bones grasped my ankles.

"You'll die a child lost to time," the skeleton explained to me.

I began to pace the dark cave.

"I could fix that. Somehow, couldn't I?"

"Perhaps, but you never will."

"Are people organized in a pyramid? There must be some way to ascend."

"It's not likely. Not in these times. Besides, you'll rot alone and afraid all the same."

"What do you mean? Death is natural, I am not afraid," I convinced myself.

"Why do you think the old are so willing to die once they are there? Everything has rotten away, people and all, and the future is not as beautiful as it would seem. After a life of getting through each day hoping for a better future, it does not seem as enticing when you finally get there. Old bones wish for a happy ending, and in the end that is Death," the skeleton explained.

His bones clattered along the rocks as I walked around, constantly interrupting my thoughts.

"How can you be so sure? You were never even alive," I retorted angrily.

"That's true, but I am inside you all the time aren't I? The only time I truly get to shine is once you are gone, never forget," the skeleton reminded me.

I sighed, he had a point.

"Well I don't care about when I'm gone, I'm not going to be here after all! What can you tell me about my time I spend here?"

"How should I know? You're the one that should tell me," the skeleton explained once again.

"Well how can I know if I'm not done yet?!" I began to get frustrated with the skeleton.

"I suppose I could say the same."

day 83 - overdue rants

I apologize for not posting anything recently. I've been chasing a dream of mine and that's been consuming a great deal of my time. I've also spent a lot of my time running away. I wish everyone could grow up having an asian parent so they know what I've been going through. I genuinely think that growing up in this country with one asian parent is a tragedy, and two is just a nightmare. In asian culture everyone basically strives to be a small business owner or something of the like, something with a minor amount of respect and something that is totally boring and shitty. If any of you know me, you know that is not me. So you can see how my mom and I butt heads to the extreme nearly every day. She's at a point in her life where she's getting too old to work. She is getting arthritis really bad in her hands and since her job involves her hands she has been forced to resign to teaching others and trying to make money that way. However, that means in her home life she needs somebody to help around the house. Lord knows my brother and sister won't do shit, they're just like me, they think that school and instrument lessons are already too much (which to be fair, with the way my mom treats those things, they are), and my shitty ass step dad obviously doesn't do fucking anything at all except be a dick to my siblings, so that generally leaves things up to me.


Now this wouldn't normally be that big of a deal except for the fact that I'm under constant pressure to either go back to school or get a job, both of which not only feel like a waste of time to me, but also feel like giving up. Don't get me wrong, I'm sure I'll still get a job just because I really, REALLY, need the money right now, but my last job left me with a bit of a salty taste in my mouth and again, if any of you know me, you know I'm not the kind of guy to give up TIME for MONEY, especially when it involves sucking someone else's dick for 10 hours a day doing something monotonous. But of course, my mom doesn't understand these things, and why should she? That's all she's done her entire life, and I appreciate that, but things are different for me. She worked her entire life for me to be able to chase my dreams so WHY ISN'T SHE FUCKING LETTING ME!!?


Ugh, I have so many frustrations right now. I need to get out of here. Living in my mom's basement is a living hell, and as soon as I get a job I can move out, so I guess that's what I have to do. But it feels so bad. It feels like resigning to a life of shit. And I feel like there's not one single person who relates to what I want, how I feel, or what I want from life.


And don't even get me started on girls. Do you know how hard it is to scrape together the courage to ask a girl out when you have no money and still live with your mom? It's impossible.


Maybe this was too much information but I've always been one for transparency.

- Marcus <3

day 82 - absolution

"Write drunk; edit sober." - Ernest Hemingway

i crave that absolution
i desire that instituion
i feel like resolution
is just a substitution

infinity is not everything
a fool can be a king
in our deepest fears will ring
a dead and withered wing

melodies heard
and emotions stirred
a life in the end
is all you can tend









I have something I'm writing but I wanted to take a little bit of time with it, so while I'm still writing every day I might not be posting for a few. To make up for it, here's a playlist of a few songs that I like.

day 81 - ticking

From dusk till dawn
through every yawn
a ticking noise is ticking

a man wakes up
his life is gone
he felt it much too quickly

and never seen
his realized dreams
but this is all there could be

day 81 - boat

A young boy recently told me a riddle. One of those riddles you hear as a child that makes you feel all the wiser from just being able to parrot it back.

"How far can a dog run into a forest?"

"Um... you know, I'm not sure. How far?"

I decided to play along for his sake, remembering how I had hated know-it-all no fun adults, and sure enough he snapped right back.

"Half way! After that it's running out of the forest!"

At the time I hadn't the heart to tell him that I never liked that one in particular either. Maybe it was because I thought about it too much, but I always imagined the dog getting ten feet into the forest only to get caught in a bear trap or to drown in a lake.

The salty ocean air reprimanded me for thinking about it a second time with a graze across the cheek, and I supposed it was right. Retiring to the warmth of my cabin was anything but reassuring. A relaxing journey into the great beyond! - the advertisement had promised. Surely an oxymoron, I had thought at the time, but I did my best to prove myself wrong in the spirit of my journey. I emptied my pack onto the luxurious stained sheets.

"First thing's first," I felt it necessary to say aloud.

I grabbed the old bottle of wine I had saved for just such boredom.

"And of course, no need for formalities."

I drank with the thirst of a dying man, it only felt right.

As the sun sank under the water and the boat began to quiet, I retrieved the candle and matches I had so romantically decided to bring. I struck the first match but finished with that. The flame became my mistress of the night. I found it rather interesting, the concept of a match, at the time. Simply a small stick made to be burned up. I wished dearly for someone to strike me, to start my fire and let it consume me until I was nothing but a pile of hot ash. The match burnt my fingers and I lit another, bidding my first mistress adieu and lighting my candle with the second.

I laid on my bed staring at the candle, thinking back to the old riddle. That night I dreamed of the boat catching on fire, not quite making it half way across the ocean.