Transparent Demons (prose)


Used to be I was afraid to write anything at all for fear of revealing my internal demons. Then I might pick up an author, like Stephen King, and read his words voraciously being quite fascinated with his ability to step outside of himself and write such frightening prose. Then I would ask myself, is he really stepping outside? Ooh, even scarier really. Just imagine what is in the minds of everyone around us. We haven’t any idea unless we are their therapist and hearing their exploits for a couple of hundred dollars an hour in a session that sometimes doesn’t really matter at all. Just sharing ideas really.

That’s when I began to realize that everyone is capable of thinking, believing and behaving in the same manner. Some just choose not to. Some decide they have better things to preoccupy themselves with. Others continue to dwell on their silent mystique, and fear the look of eye contact with someone close because those soul driven eyes might bring their demons to the surface. And no one, really quite frankly, no one likes to be the purveyor of a downer.

I’ve been reading a lot of blogs recently and exploring the lives of those people around me. They’re not standing next to me, but they do stand next to you and everyone they encounter on a consistent basis as they try their hand at surviving in whatever the society it is that defines their mores, values, integrity at this juncture of their lives. I wonder about that. I wonder if they all stand next to each other taking caution to one another until, and do the moments that bring people together – that love and romance thing, that compelling animalistic drive that sends people into delicious throes of sensual release – really measure up to their own personal ideals, or is that just a temporary satisfaction ( The Rolling Stones ‘Satisfaction’ playing in my ear buds ) the human condition relies upon to help us feel right about our lives?

There is this love thing we always talk about. We (I) spend hours in our writing trying to define what love is all about. We (I) explore the tenets of marriage. We (I) fight for control to decide who can really recognize ‘love’ and who ought to be denied that value in their own lives. I live in a society of hypocrisy that won’t allow us to give credence to the simple reality of our lives as needy human beings that sharing our physicality with one another helps us to get along, to feel better, to understand the essence of why we exist at all today. Some want to call that sex. Is that the interfering dialogue? God help us if we stumble upon reasons why our unity and shared devotion are ill-met pursuits due to overbearing stimuli of religiosity. Oh my, I went there, I better end soon.

Well, maybe I’m just getting started with my journey … (to be continued)


9 responses to “Transparent Demons (prose)

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