Gods & Aliens

by Emery Azure

A/N; this probably doesn't make a lot of sense and was written in a lack of sleep state, but enjoy it for what it is.

© Emery Azure

Forever ago; there’s a tunnel that transports you to dull lights, loud mind screaming and mouth shut tight. No words to describe the things you feel. The things you experience with people’s wet tongues running and ringing dry. Fingers quick on the click to laugh until they make themselves sick. An antennae barely picking up a static signal in a basement make waves on the old screen. You watch absentmindedly, drowning out the voices in your head and the unease in your skin. You cover yourself less to keep warm than to keep safe and hidden. Nothing hides you, not cause you’re the brightest light but because you are a mold that doesn’t easily fit. You try desperately to escape but you are present, a soft sand as you feel the waves of energy like a riptide tearing you out to sea.

You come to understand how the tender trauma manifests itself in the name of gods and aliens. Out of body experiences of abductions and of speaking in radical, unheard tongues. Signs and signals mark the ceiling. You just have to remind yourself to breathe, one more breath and another will come. A name put on a pedestal that casts its true form in shadows of white. Like riding in on a horse to throw you from it violently. More like a snake slithering up next to you, hidden in the vines. Keeps the rattling hum straddling high above the line.

You do not see gods and aliens, you see human beings with pores and follicles and feel nails digging into your skin. Voices calm and deep rummage to the surface as sudden as an eruption. Blood pumping all the way to your ears simply in the subtle fear and you feel the heat. You know the feeling of hell fires burning into your skin, setting you alight to burn down false reality walls. Hell doesn’t scare you anymore. You couldn’t possibly believe gods, aliens and humans coexist in the sweltering blisters in your mind, wandering darkened halls, roam rooms that aren’t yours. Stranger in the strange environment, an intruder on your own existence. You believe in nothing except the darkness and monsters. These are the only things that are real. These are the things you can feel.

In present as it goes; your voice carries across metal and concrete, echoing far and deep. People react to you, no longer an abstract mold. You take a sharper shape with a voice that doesn’t shake, speak in hyperbole. A subtle confidence that can simmer and form your own waves. Set the tone with disregard of consequence. High walls built like brick, red as the hell fires. You sure can stir the dust up quick, angry like a lightning rod to disintegrate a house of cards. Feel the fury to feel stronger but simply drawing out the misery. You’re happier in indifference, living like a nihilist. Everything is easy when you’re busy.

In the quietness, you can easily get caught up in those dreams again. Remember all those gods and aliens, hovering over your head so high above the ceiling. You feel your bones, they ache and you relish in all your complaints. Ignoring the old dreamscape that you lost along the way. Prefer your eyes wide awake, burning like your cigarettes until they fall like ashes to the ground. In your head, your mind it runs a race, keep losing track to never find the way towards the black and white. Chasing colors like they’re butterflies. Life feels like no finish line. Cut it out, the world is alive but you’re just a faint little ruin casting dust aside.

Sometimes you’re playing god when you know you are the alien. Don’t trifle in the control, let it go because it’s all unknown. You know people are no gods but you always set them up as such. What a hellish lust. Remember how the monsters are real but maybe so is love. So you lose yourself in people sinking deeper without the touch, a vapid emotion that comes and goes. It’s supposed to never leave you but you’re all alone again. Playing Russian roulette with your skin. You wonder what runs within, deeper, you dive in. Blood bright red like the rush of monstrous anger, like flames can transfer to vapors. Hellish fires flourish well beneath.

There’s that feeling again, like god is power in the wind, whispers low in the feeling. A simple minute of peace before it meets decease. Then there’s the odd inside out, that’s the alien. That seems to keep you failing. Trips you up and stumbles, words a muffled stutter. Hidden in plain view of how you're vulnerable. Holding your tongue a prisoner and keeping your edges caved, melting and molding again. Coming and going, on and on and leaving no sense.

Maybe you are all of the above, shattered glasses glued back together pieces of gods, monsters and aliens. A tourist just sightseeing, never finding a home beneath. Eyes take in the view but never quite sinking in. Maybe you just flow, bubble up and blow, just to disappear and go. The world is no reprieve so only finding quick relief in the sudden leave.