Sleep: Night Two

By M.G.J.

Another night that I lay in bed staring up into a void, the glitter from the asbestoses filled ceiling sparkles like stars, reflecting light cast by the moon’s rays as they impale the blinds like a thousand small blades cutting into the skin, a surgeons tool, or the medium of psychopath. They paint a picture that tells a story, a space odyssey that takes me into the open space that I call my mind. It speaks of times when all was well. When we didn’t have to worry about not having enough for the rent, or whether we’d have food on the table. But with this dying economy, and past mistakes, how can I think of times now past? I see you lying beside me, remember our love, that night down by the railroad tracks, we were so in love then. They say all you need is love. How can you rest so peacefully? Can you not hear the sounds carried in the wind?

Can you not hear the wind rumbling in the distance, howling like two rabid wolves competing for the last bit of meat left on a rotting carcass? Can you not hear the screeching tires, the burning rubber, the hot lead that cuts through the air? Do you not wish to leave this wretched place? I hear the sirens in the distance, miles away yet they feel so close, they remind me like all else of the world that surrounds my tiny apartment, in this…Sinners Paradise. And once again like every night that damn clock. Tick TOCK Tick TOCK, beating like the pulse of a broken heart, dying for just one last ounce of a partners love. If only to reach into the chest and silence this life, could I have one nights rest? I begin to wonder why I have the clock in the first place. Ah yes, because its sound soothes you, helps you go to sleep. If you only realized its beating drives me to near insanity and back again, sets my mind in disarray. In my fascination with the sounds that enter my room all is silenced as that scream shrieks through my room like the night before, “Ahhhhhhhhhhh!!!! Help!”

I jolt out of bed, the sound so close it hurts my ears. I forget what was on my mind; the worries fade, for I am safe behind these wooden walls unlike the owner of that voice, so painful, so lonely. If only I could help. I walk to the window peer through the blinds. All I see is dark(the dead of night), “Ahhhhhhhhh!!! Help m…..”Where is that voice coming from? As I try to make sense of what little is visible outside my window, a copter’s beam reflects off the glass showing me my reflection, or yours. I remember you robbed me of my soul sucked the life right out my eyes. You killed my mother with your selfish ways. I can never forgive you, wish I could forget yet every time I stare at my refection I see you. It is my living hell, a reminder of what you took from me, a reminder that I am just like you. I can smell Channel No. 5. It smells so real it makes me sneeze. I then wake to the taste of cherry lip balm, sweet, soft, wet…

Sleep: Night One

By. M.G.J.

Many nights I find myself lying in my bed staring into the black somber space, emptiness fills my heart. I can feel you to my side yet I feel so alone, like a newborn child left in a basket set to drift down a wayward stream. Like there is no one in the room except for a numb motionless body. I can not bear to move. I can not sleep; can not bring myself to fade away into a world of dreams; a world where everything is at peace, where together we lay, happily, like lovers often do. Here in this world there is no sin, here I can give you everything you deserve, everything you desire. Here life is perfect. I hear the windows rattle as the copter draws closer, till it passes over head rattling the windows so hard dust fills the room sending pressure up my nose forcing me to sneeze. I’m now reminded of that musty smell of the slums, like a corpse left out to rot. It all reminds me of this sinful town; I wish I could leave this place. I wish I could close my eyes and forget.

Bright light fills the room illuminating everything in site temporarily blinding me before my eyes focus on the walls forming before my feet. The light climbing up the wall like hell fires forming the shape of the room, rising up to the heavens. My eyes fixate on that symbol. Ah, I forgot there was a cross hanging on the wall, how lovely, with all that has happened we still find the strength to reach out for intangible beliefs. Another painful reminder of how much I hate who I am, who I’ve become. I haven’t slept in days, I reek of sweat, and these damn noises don’t help. The leaky faucet dripping every minute like the tears you shed when you cry yourself to sleep. The ticking of the clock is counting down the hours till the inedible end, growing louder and LOUDER. Tick TOCK Tick TOCK. Your breath so soft and peaceful like a baby after feasting off the comfort of the bosom, the rhythm of the night fills the air, a scream heard down the street, breaks me from my state of motionlessness

I pull the sheets off my naked skin and rise from my bed. Chills now run down my spine as my bear skin is greeted by the cold night. “Ahhhhhhhhhhh!!!” there it is again, that scream, so hollow. Poor soul must not have made it inside before the sun set, or perhaps a street walker, who else would be stupid enough to prowl around at night? I glance down at your resting body, your breast so plump, nipples hardened by the dead cold. How could you sleep through the night? I make my way to the bathroom. Each step I take squeaking like the rats feeding off the molding crumbs the very food from which we feed. Damn Vermin. I finally make it the bathroom. The door shuts as I walk in. Is it the draft rushing in from the broken window? I flick the light, nothing. What more should I Expect from this shit hole. The only light the reflection of the moon piercing through the window resting on my face. I stare into the mirror and see my reflection. I look just like you, your splitting image. No matter how hard I try to wash it away I can not. For I am you, you are me. I hate you. I hate you. I must stare for hours, for I can smell the morning. I can smell wet hair. I then wake to the taste of cherry lip balm, sweet, soft, wet…

Posting

So I will try and post stuff up here now that I have access once again. Hopefully this time around my page can evolve to something great. I am going to start by Reposting "Sleep" day by day until the end is revealed.

Some old poem

Okay so i think im getting more into posting stuff up on this site. I'm going to dedicate a lil time to my own page too. If you like my work in Metal Crow Productions stay tooned for stuff i put up here. I will try to bring some interesting things here too. heres a start.





The Crow and the Willow Tree

By M.G.J.


From among the darkness a crow appeared
perched on the willow tree
a figment of my darkest fears
a figment of my darkest thoughts
consumed by darkness
born of hate
tainted by what had come to pass

perched upon the willow tree
it spread its wing and then took flight
only to come crashing down
to fall deeper down that endless hole
still yearning to spread it wings
I watched it rise from deep within
a part of me consumed by hate
born of sorrow
it spread its wings
and then soared high
tainted by what came to be
it still spread it wings and took flight
flew past the dying willow tree
flew so high that I could not see
that this crow consumed by darkness
born of hate had actually
come to be my tainted soul
attempting to be set free

Sleep: Short Story

Okay so we are begining work on our comic for Metal Crow Productions and that will be out some time this year hopfully pretty soon. To hold your interests I am working on a short story that will be updated every so often at the site. We will be trying to include voice overs to go along with the story which you can either listen to or ignore. Totally up to you. This way you can read it through and get your interpretation, or you can listen to the Artists Interpretation. Thought it be interesting to read it through your own way and then have it read to you in my own personal interpretation. This can allow for some pretty cool discusions I think.

Metal Crow Productions

Hello all. Okay this is my second post, Yay about time. Okay so I'm not good at blogging, Serio pedo, serious fart. well anyways. I will try and blog some more but its kinda hard when you have a 3 month old and a 20 month old. Anyways this blog is just to introduce Metal Crow Productions. Two men's dreams. Lets see if we can achieve the American Dream. So we chat about a lot of stuff we been meaning to get out there for the world to see. We got songs that have never made it too far, stories, comic ideas, videos, you name it we've though it. So now its time to put some time into this. So toon in this time its for reals. Metal Crow Productions Check it out. There's just a logo I've created for now, which is only a 30 min sketch, but soon we'll have a sneak preview of more to come. Serio Pedo.

Man Sized

So this is my First Blog, and it will be about what? None other than the man. Yep the man, no not the goverenment, you and me. The man that might be reading this blog. Heck or even the woman that might be reading it. So my compadre and I were discussing about well a bunch of nothing like usual. From a discussion about the 99 cent store, no not the 98 cents and up store, or the Mom's 99 cent store, the actuall 99 cent only store, and we got off talkign about Durritos making there bags smaller, which in turn lead to the Man. What do i mean by the man? I mean man sized meals. Okay so theres Hungry man meals, but come on we need more than that. Well the other day at the real 99 cent store I ran across a man sized cup noddles. yeah no more having to make two cups to satisfy a mans hunger, but they also got to make them Mexican spiced too, cause you know you got to add your own pico de gallo to get them spiced just right. Any ways SERIO PEDO, SERIOUS FART, there need to be more man sized, man spiced foods out there. I'm talking bout man sized pringles so your hand wont get stuck in the container as your trying to pull out the last couple of chips, when you have to decided either you let go and get your hand back out, or you keep forcing your hand out and end up with a broken chip, thus defeating the perpose of the contianer to keep your chips whole. Pringle needs to make an oval shaped container for us men, after all the chip is oval shaped not circular. So who's with me in my campain to make man sized, man spiced foods? I'm down lets get the petition started. Serio Pedo, Sreious fart. Wait, how do you get a petition started? lol. later on chavos and chavitas.