Winter

As I walk out into the cold wind's embrace and the nurturing glow of the moon. I breathe in deeply and inhale purity. As I exhale I watch my breathe rise into the leaves of the tree. My tree, splintered and not whole. My breathe dances between the red, brown, and green leaves and rises up into the stars. Beautiful.

Without

I am a prince without a kingdom
Artist without any art
Lover without anyone to love
Rebel without any cause
Fighter without a War to fight in

I have set sail without a ship

I am traveling without a destination
All these things are me
without
a care

Broadcast

I am calling out.
This is a broadcast to the stars and the moon
the clouds
the trees
the stones and the waters;
To the energy that connects us all
that flows through me, that flows through you.
You can touch me, I can see you.
Why can't i touch you.
Why can't you see me.
I am calling out
Reaching for you
Hear my call?
Read my broadcast?
Come with me
Join me

I Think

So i shall take the focus of my writings for a moment and more on my thoughts.

Louis Mackey - "There are two types of sufferers in this world. Those that suffer from a lack of life and those that suffer from an overabundance of it."

Ok now I have suffered from both of these. I have at times been so alone that I felt like an alien on a distant planet, and sometimes i have literally been alone and shut in for long periods of time. and then I have been surrounded by friends constantly to the point where everything is out of control. Though both times have been so very different experiences they have felt like two sides of the same coin. Both feel that they can only end in self destruction. A real fear of a loss of self occurs. Losing myself to myself. (Trapped in a darkroom with myself and no light, only the fear that I fabricate and thats scarier than any outside force because it is me that is the monster) Or losing myself in a crowd of people. (alone in a sea of faces)
So in my mind this quote is perfectly true. but in my mind I may be insane. which brings on the next quote.

J.C. Shakespeare - "A self-destructive man feels completely alienated, utterly alone. He's an outsider to the human community. He thinks to himself, "I must be insane." What he fails to realize is that society has, just as he does, a vested interest in considerable losses and catastrophes."

I consider myself very self destructive due to my "feel first ask questions later "way of life and I'm not this way by choice but conditioned to be this way through things that appeal to me(maybe it is by choice). Music, movies, art all have a message of feeling over reality. Feeling becomes the reality. In this way reality does bend to my will but it will also shatter it at times and when this occurs the self destructive nature and alienation set in. which brings me to another niche of an artist. That we are to forever suffer and be near the brink of self destruction as long as we strive to be on the limit of society, our minds. So is it predetermined that I am to suffer and eventual be the cause of my own destruction? perhaps. But because I am self conscious of this will I be able to steer away from that path or like everyone, because I know, will I unknowingly be steering myself towards that path faster trying to avoid it. I don't know. I do know however that I will keep living.
Richard Linklater - "There's only one instant, and it's right now. And it's eternity. "

Sneak peak SS 4

This is a short story that I can adapt to graphic novel form if i choose but as of yet have no incentive to do so. I feel it would rob of some of its charm; it very well could add to it as well but there are aspects of it that I feel are best left to the imagination. Well heres your sneak peak at Two Blind Mice


Two Blind Mice by Davey Garay


Kitty Litter


“Welcome to the shit hole of the world kid, welcome to hell”,
I said to the new guy my partner Phil just hired. He’s a young, nice kid still hangs out with all the mice ‘stead of the big ass rats that make up this hell hole. This town ain’t so bad s’long as you don’ mind lookin’ the other way. You see the cats run this town, like they do most other sin cities. You turn up missing if you cause any kind of trouble they don’t like. In our line of business, excuse me Private investigator Raymond Gittes at your service, as I was saying, in our line of business sometimes we ruffle up the wrong feathers and mice close to us get hurt. I learned the hard way, don’t cross the cats.
Anyways it’s a quarter to nine and I’ve had just about all I could handle of this office and this new assistant prick who would wipe my ass if I asked him to, nice kid. I grab my top hat and head for the door. Phil’s not in so I’ll have to call him once I get to the bar to check up on him, I still feel responsible.
“Hey kid, Hollis!”
“Yes boss?”
“I’m taking the rest of the night o—“
“Going home so soon boss?”
“Yes! Now if anyone calls take a message and leave it on my desk”.
“Ok sir, yes SIR!”
I walk out the door and begin walking down the hallway and I can already smell the stench of this city. Rat and cat piss. Cats will use rats to do the dirty jobs they don’t want to be caught doing or maybe they just like to watch us kill each other. Either way the cats have shit all over this place as if it were their own personal litter box. I walk out the door and smell the air, light a cig and take a long drag, feel the hell I just breathed go down into my lungs, and stand outside.
I hate this street, especially at night. I had the longest walk of my life, walking from my car to this building. Still hurts when I breathe sometimes, smoking makes me feel normal again.
The shadows of the buildings create dark crevasses where awful things like to hide. Sometimes if you walk for a bit and stare into the dark, eyes will stare back. I hate this place but it ain’t half as bad as the sewer cities.
I walk down the streets and keep looking over my shoulder; like I said my line of work you rattle a few cages. I spot a car parked a block down the road that I’ve never seen before, modern car, I know that much, looks like an electric shaver. The cars lights are off when it comes to life and slowly begins moving up the street. It must be rats because if it were cats they wouldn’t care to be seen. I know who the people in the car are after...


Well there it is, the end of your sneak. Hope you enjoyed the peak and you may ask to read the rest of the story. This may develop into a much larger expanded universe but so far the short story has a journey's end.

Sneak peak SS 3

Here is a special sneak peak at a horror story I am currently writing;the story does not have a title at the moment. Its very much inspired by H.P. Lovecraft but I hope to lend my own voice and my own story to some familiar elements of his stories. Heres a quick look at page one. I hope you enjoy and let me know what you think. Please feel free to comment and let me know if youd like to read it finished. Enjoy

(untitled)

1
In the Memento



Where am I? Why am I coughing? My head is throbbing, why? I go feeling around my body and head but nothing appears to be hurt. Why does my head hurt so much? The lights in here are so bright. There are more people in this room. There are chairs and a table with a woman behind it, entrance and exit doors right next to it. The doors are window so I can tell its night outside, I look at the clock over my head; its 3:50 a.m. Where the hell am I? There is a TV in this room and people are watching it, the Titanic is on. The chairs are filed like a waiting room, what am I waiting for? Seems like a hospital. I don’t know who any of these people are. God, who am I? I can’t remember.

I get up out of my chair and start walking around the room, I pass by some of the people and they give me an annoyed look. I go straight from where I was sitting and take a right at the end of the row of chairs headed deeper into the “hospital”. There’s a door, as I begin to walk through the door the lady at the desk says “Hello? Excuse me sir, excuse me! You can’t go in there, that’s a staff only room.”
“I’m sorry I was looking for the bathroom, could you tell me where it is?”
“Yes sir, you see that hallway? Walk down it and then take a left and what you’re looking for should be right there. The bathroom isn’t what you’re really looking for though is it?”I give her a strange look and say,
“Thank you ma’am….”

Before I turn to walk down the hallway I notice the receptionists face. Its ---------------. I shake the creep going down my spine and begin walking down the hallway. Walls are a bit dirty and the hall is dimly lit, like it was lit by a single candle of the middle of the room. I feel the hairs on the back of my neck begin to stand up. This hallway doesn’t want to end; it didn’t look this long a few minutes ago. All the rooms’ doors in the hallway are open with the lights turned off; I can’t see anything inside them. There are so many rooms. I look back to ask the receptionist for directions again and my eyes open wide. All that is behind me is darkness....

Well that's all you get guys. Hope you enjoyed it.

Sneak peak SS 2

Heres another sneak peak at a short story I have written, this one may evolve into a much larger story. I hope you enjoy the little bit of the story I give you.

Isle of the Dead

Somewhere on a distant island a small old man with spectacles and suspenders sits in a room silently watching a clock tick. The clock ticks on and on echoing through the halls leading up to his desolate office. He sits watching it patiently and firmly holds his head up with both his hands leaning forward in his office chair. His gaze so unflinching that if an outsider were to see, they’d think him a statue. The clock is ticking; the sound piercing his brain, all the way down to his very soul. Tick Tock Tick Tock Tick Tock.

A clock goes off in the room but not the one he was gazing at. He picks up the clock he was gazing at and places it in his pocket and moves about the room. His office is filled with clocks, millions and millions of clocks, tiny and big. He gets up from his chair and shuts off the clock, removes its batteries and a card attached to it. He puts the batteries away in his desk; there is always a new clock that will need them. He punches out the card and stands silently for a moment. The card says Eliza Sputman, he knew an Eliza once. Doing this is always hard for him. His frail frame shakes for a second as he stands then he thumbs the clock in his pocket and then he continues on. He places Eliza’s card in the outgoing mail. The mail always goes to one place. Three other clocks go off and he goes back to work.

Eliza Sputman drives down the silent road uncertain of where she is going...

There that's the end of your sneak peak. Hope you enjoyed it and want to finish the rest of the story.