ThoughtShock: A Manifesto Chapter 15


Chapter Fifteen
'A Personal Conversation'

Matthew Wayne

By the grace of the divine. Felt deceived when I ran out of time. So much I wanted to say but kept it sealed and locked away. Who could I fool? The demons wanted out to play. I close my eyes and search for any reason why I should remain sane.
Fear rules over our minds controlling our hearts.
No longer do we trust our neighbors, brother or sister. Can no longer trust myself when deep down there brews something sinister. Locking ourselves behind closed doors to decay even faster. It is a choice to remain ignorant. A sense of security within that bliss. Waking from that dream into this nightmare with just one kiss, while you reach out for anyone who might be there. The illusion is fading does anyone even care? Trust is now a fable, a whisper across the table.

“Breaking the bread as piece by piece
gets passed down the line. Hungry mouths,
with all the starving faces
where the chaos brings in the tease.”

As is above, so it is below
now follow me as I know you are just a little slow.
What is out there, is also found within
and this ride is just about to begin.

The Dead Poet

Just how far are you willing to take this?
Destroying your soul, standing before your own abyss.
Simply close your eyes, now make your wish.

“In this illusion is there really such a thing as luck?”

In the war zone I shall die,
glory to be had on the battlefield as I fall
there is power in truth, victory over the lie.
A child once in fear, now we all stand tall.

Damien Nosferatu

You are caught within a web built from their lies. It is the circle of life as you struggle just to survive but everything eventually dies. We are creatures of habit where we allow our emotions to run rabid. We are a disease as we spread, devouring everything that is in eye sight. As this theater of life plays on in our head. We suffer with your ignorance to the plight where you gave up before the war started. Shit got hard so you simply departed. Afraid and unsure, so now the whole experience is nothing but a blur.

“Walking this dream as you wake to its lies.
Dare not speak out for fear of the reprise.
Are we dead, or are we alive?
Could it be an illusion all in my head?”

“The dead will tell no tales.
Written in blood, it will be our journey through the nine hells.
The past it will be our future, the future is our past
it seems to be a concept no one can grasp.”

The Dead Poet

“Where am I to go from here?
Where I no longer recognize my own reflection in the mirror.”

I find myself often repeating the same mistakes over and over again, as if I had forgotten the lesson. The same trials will soon begin. I will fight against the current, my goal will be to survive the irony. To numb the pain and to be free. Once more within the throws of addiction. Drawn to this vice for a reason. I search for an escape from this vary reality that you help manifest, that you create. Slowly over time it transforms into a security line. Days and weeks blend merging as one. The world I had built around myself begins to melt. The deed has been done. I will slowly wake to a world that no longer feels real. I bartered with the devil and signed the deal.

Damien Nosferatu

I have a secret to share,
it is not a pretty white lie,
it will make your faith run dry.
For I wanna die like Jesus Christ.
Be the martyr for your ultimate heist.”

I have witnessed hell with my own eye.
I have sat alone in the dark wishing to die.
I have whispered a forgotten name.
I have even played this forsaken game.

Pounding my fists against my skull.
Russian roulette with my own soul.
The devil said I could not be saved,
reserved me a seat in hell next to the depraved.
This is my reality, not just any illusion
questioning my sanity, by the barrel of this gun.
Question everything, for I speak in tongues.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

While writing up this chapter and the chapter before this, the odd thought had crossed my mind. ThoughtShock for the title of this book is perfect, for people only "Thought" I was crazy and insane. Bwhahahahahaha I do hope you enjoy this creative piece.

Okay a little history about this piece..
"Damien Nosferatu" and "The Dead Poet" are names I've pinned to two different creative styles I tap into. My "voice" as it were. So I just call them basicly my different writing personalities. One night I thought how 'odd' it would be if these personas had a conversation per say. How strange would a piece be if I could compile a readable piece from these two styles, I can see the difference however curiosity has me wondering if anyone else can see a difference in the personas. I am also thinking of doing another project like this again, it was quite fun.

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