Hate.

I hate you. I hate your smile. I hate your way of logic. I hate the way you seem to want control over the most decided things. I hate the postures you take when we've all reached agreements. I hate how you change your mood like you change your hair colour. I hate the way you laugh. I hate the way you seem to act all innocent, when we all know you're far from an angel. I hate your language. I hate your Facebook comments. I hate your chats with me, acting interested then switching off completely.

I hate your ignorance of the world and expecting to be all belligerent. I hate how you seem to only need me for an answer to a question you already know. I hate how you drop in and out of my life whenever you feel like it. I hate how you have to have a say in everything. I hate the way you look at me. I hate your height. I hate your lack of decency over touchy subjects. I hate your lack of love. I hate your music taste. I hate the way you dress. I hate your smell. I hate the way you seem to be some kind of a better person by ignoring people. I hate the way you hate me. I hate the love you gave me and then took away.

I hate the stupid things that seem to always be linked to me and you. I hate that you gave up when you never even knew me. I hate your 50/50 mindset. I hate your childish outlook on life, then act like you're the mature one. I hate how idiotic you make people feel. I hate the fact that I know you. I hate that we never talk. I hate that we share so much, and you seem to have got it all now. I hate that feeling that whenever we're near each other, we're the furthest apart. I hate that I can't even look at you anymore without feeling a sense of utter regret. I hate that I messed up with someone like you. I hate your sense of knowing so much about absolutely nothing. I hate that you're content.

I hate your whole existence, Flynn. I really do.

Yours hatefully, your super ego.

Heresy

The rows of men all shuffle to slavery’s beat,

Remind their heresy as they bloody their feet

Blasphemed aplenty, they are now tongueless voices,

Cut out and hung on their chests, their choices,

Faceless and blinded angels all strung high in shame,

I have turned my back and forsaken my Lord’s name,

Above they bleed on rocks and barbed chains of misery,

I see all my sins crawl in front of me,

Wearing ropes made of mortal skin,

Burning away on grounds that do not grow,

Tear blistering flesh of fallen angels, hear them sing,

As infernal heats rise from the hatreds below,

Forests of the Suicide shriek and howl of lives took,

As fires rage around fueled by His word and book,

The never-ending sound of souls torn apart,

Set ablaze on Lucifer’s heart.

My Lennan Sidhe.

The clock doesn’t strike, because there’s no time in this neighbourhood. All I hear are screaming sirens sailing off into the morning, with echoing whispers from the wind that slides from street to street. In the middle of nowhere, and not knowing what I’m doing in these robes and sandals when its minus degrees outside.

They thought it’d be funny to strand me in this desolate place, and now I’m trying to figure out exactly what this place is. To be seen in this is something no one should have to endure, especially the natives of Southsea. It’s colder than a witch’s tit here, and not even God knows how I’ll get back to civilization.

I’ve had more than enough and it’s the proverbial blanket that surrounds me, not the Primark ones that cover my torso and arse, and equipped with about as much sense of direction as a blind man without a stick, I might as well face it. I’m fucked.

Each shivering second as I pass each generic road and each crappy hedge or wall, everything suddenly emerges. It’s just all one big joke, me, this, everything. I try to laugh but the air escapes my frozen lungs like the thought does.

I would worry, but the temperature’s the only thing seeming to cling onto me bar the toga, and I don’t think it’s funny anymore. Banter? They can stick that banter right up their third year arses.

I seem to have some form of a natural instinct of being absolutely useless with directions other than when I’m completely shitfaced, and in this case, I seem to be absolutely proven right. But every step I take, the buildings I recognize seem to have this ability to hide somehow, mask themselves from my own eyes. I must be high, or something.

I stop for a second to think, but thinking is about as useful as pissing on your own shoes. I try my phone again, try to ring, but clichéd as hell, the battery seems to have committed cellular suicide. Shit.

Suddenly, I look up and she’s there. Middle of the road, red dress. Hot. One shoe lying there askew next to her bottle of Smirnoff, lit cigarette smog seems to linger in the air. I recognize her, partially, one because she’s got her back to me and two it’s three in the bloody morning.

Thinking I’d look a dick for asking directions, especially as incapacitated as I could be, I try to act as normal as humanly possible and fail miserably. Instead of being cool, I act as if I haven’t seen her and she hasn’t glimpsed me. Play around with the dead phone, try to look like you’re actually popular, or some nonsense like that. Yeah, act popular.  I then somehow slowly make my way past and towards her. 

She turns. Sees me. Smiles. “Looking good, I see. What the fuck are you doing here, Pedro?”

Taking a long drag from the Mayfair fag, she stands now, holding one hand on her left bicep and blows smoke straight at me. “Just having a stroll in this shithole. Got one I could pinch?”

She offers one before I can finish my sentence, and I act cool about it. Getting one, she lights it with hers and passes it along. Her fingers touch, but they’re warm. Warm like fire. Mine are ice, and she quickly jerks them away. “You look wasted. Good night then?”

We shoot the shit for a few more minutes, but it seems like hours long. She seemed to listen and laugh, and for some reason, listen. This was shocking, but I downplayed it as much as I could. I also try not to let on that my balls are freezing and pretty soon I won’t be able to feel anything again. I’ve had a few and that’s helped, but there’s a threshold for everything and everyone.

But she distracts this coldness with her casualness. Another cigarette, another set of jokes and lines you wouldn’t want to repeat to anyone, ever. As I finally pluck the courage to as her for directions, she interrupts me by asking a question. “D’you wanna come in?” I’m a bit shocked, but don’t show it. Well, I’m wasted so I think I don’t show it. “Yeah, if that’s cool with you.”

She half smiles, and pushes a door open, walks in and then looks at me. Then I do the same and shut the door, quietly. I must be wasted. “Crash on the couch if you like.” I’ll still say this, it’s been a rough few hours, I’m standing inside this one floor flat, on the kitchen tiles, with a cup of tea, in a double bed sheet, looking worse for wear, but I need some form of warmth. “Thanks. For like…”

Then she sits next to me on the huge ripped up leather sofa, and grabs my shoulder, pulling half of me towards her. All of a sudden, the tea doesn’t matter. She starts to kiss me, and grabs onto me. Well, I drunkenly reciprocate, like anyone would. I don’t remember her name right now, but names got left on the doorstep. My hands on her torso, it’s odd, but amazing. I’m jerked towards her and then her room upstairs.

The next morning, I wake up, head smashed in like a box that’s been sat on by someone heavier than its contents, and the cup of tea’s there, lying on a mantelpiece, the cup grinning its message Have a nice day! whilst I try to contemplate just where the hell I am.

Her and everything hits me suddenly, and I smile, but still grimace. I’m missing my toga sheet. All I’ve got are pants, a phone, wallet full of receipts and two shoes with odd socks. Where the fuck is my sheet?

As much as I search I can’t find it. Instead, the smell of last night lingers. Her perfume. 

But what was her name?

The Ocean of Storms

///MESSAGE ALPHA ONE CLEARANCE RECEIVED AT 02:10AM\\\-----

Please, whoever this reaches, this is an ALPHA ONE MESSAGE. I repeat, an ALPHA ONE MESSAGE.

This is former Captain Leon Temple of the UFA vessel Fortuna speaking.

I guess this is my last message, as it's too late to save me. I pray to God that somehow this will reach Terra Major in time, but if it doesn’t, then may God be with us all. If you don’t find the vessel and me in time, you must destroy the ship. I repeat, you must destroy the Fortuna.

It's been 12 days since the incident occurred. We landed midday on April 24^th 2030, with minimal damage report, stable ground logistics and an all green from Cape Julius. I was part of the first exploring team mission sent to extrapolate and correlate data on activity found in a region of Luna 1, on the dark side of the moon. A place registered by scientists as The Ocean of Storms. But no one had a clue as to what we would find.

Where do I begin?

God, how the hell can I explain this?

You must believe me. I found it hard to believe at first, as everyone else did, and now everyone is just me. Everyone is dead. Please, believe me. You have to.

After reaching our point of destination, the scanners immediately picked up electromagnetic disturbance, the likes of which put functions and sensors miles off course. This should have been the first warning sign, but our three expedition members; UFA’s Major Fox, Sergeant Richards, and Private Mason all were set on being the first recon team to reach the first five miles of The Ocean.

As they reached the inside boundaries of the dead crater, one of the terraforming vehicles started to read correspondence from inside the vessel. They had reached their destination within optimum time, and began to correlate data immediately upon arrival.

What they reported on their logs were signs of growth. Unbelievable growth. There had never been any activity ever on the moon, and within this one territory, sudden activity meant everything had changed.

It was at first containable. The specimens and samples taken from Site 1 on The Ocean of Storms was unlike any form of life we, mankind, had ever encountered before. It seemed like the site, to be a pod of some sorts.

Science Division wanted it immediately quarantined, under orders of the UFC regulations, yet certain members of the crew believed it to be a threat if taken aboard. I made the decision to overrule Science and allow its transportation. If I had the chance, I would never have let that thing on board.

To this day I regret and take full responsibility for my actions. I am responsible for the deaths of over 45 crew members. My friends and their families. They are all dead, all because of me. Because of my decision. I’m still alive, barely, by the skin of my teeth. Just because I was smart enough to get out before it had the chance to get me.

My God... What have I done? What have I become?

I’ve let everything die. It’s all my fault, and I don’t know if I can carry on anymore.

Years of work, all gone, all wasted, billions lost, and all because of the discovery.

I managed to escape in an Medivac Pod, and currently I’m holding the last of the food/drink supplies. It’s been over a week, maybe longer, but out here, the machines are malfunctioning. I don’t know what time it is right now. I can’t think about it. Everything is gone to shit. Everything.

I’ve never been so scared in my life before, of what’s out there. I know it’s waiting for me. It knows I know, somehow. I don’t know how the hell I know this, but I just do.

It mocks me, The Ocean of Storms. The waves of electromagnetism, they look as if they lie still, dormant, almost peaceful. Yet, they are ever changing. They are violent. From time to time, the shields and hull sometime feel the forces hit as hard as a photon shot and causes everything to rock.

You’ve gotta believe me when I say that it is alive. The Ocean is alive. It’s not what it seems at all Goddammit, it’s not just a huge hole on a planet. Something must have hit it, like a meteorite, something must have caused some form of a fissure to split the surface of the rock. Or whatever hit it must have had something on it which landed, because we’ve studied this piece of crud for years, and nothing lives on this. Nothing.

Sometimes, I ponder on whether or not mankind made the right decision, to explore, to wonder into the vast great unknown and stick their greedy fucking noses into something which absolutely no one could understand.

I have gazed into the craters, into the deadlands of Luna 1, and it has stared back at me. I have seen forever, in the glimpse of a servo eye, and it has a mask on. It wears the face of death.

This will be the last entry. I can't live in fear anymore. 

Oh, who am I kidding? I died a long time ago. I've got to leave, before it is too late.

I've become trapped, trapped upon this vessel; this ship. No. not a ship. A prison.

I hear noises. Scraping noises. They’re calling out.

I’ve got to go now. May God be with us all.

-----///END OF MESSAGE\\\

Blood and Wolf

The wolf’s moon is coming,

Lands once prosperous now harvest nothing,

We hear the howls of day and night,

For man a sky lies in darkest shadow that once shone bright.

Blood Moon had passed, and Snow and Oak too,

The starting winter comes around and through,

October’s Luna stains red the sky,

Here a dark season will come to lie.

Come Novembertime we stand on unsteady ground,

Little or no food has been saved or found,

No water arrives from our air,

Once more the moon tests our prayer.

As logs are cut and thrown onto fires,

The winter winds still cover us in a great white attire,

We must survive come moons of new,

For what is life without living tests through.

Paradise.

And...
Go!

We run away, to the secrets, to the treasure no one knows exists. It's a place whose beauty is unparalleled. You wouldn't see it if you blinked.

We climb off the trams, hearing electricity sparkle and spit at the sky lines, and our little feet can't carry the excitement we bear.

Young, hopeless and lost in a world we'll never see again. You hold onto nothing but the air, and you're close. Very close.

There's a sun shining, there's a place undiscovered, unnoticed but not unloved.
Still, the day's cigarette burns slowly. You adore the summer, and you are in love with this secret place.

It's not hidden, it exists but people seem to like the beach instead. You hate it, the sand. through your little wriggling toes, it hurts when you walk home. But here. Here, it's safe. It's your friend. It's your place.

Leave me to climb the steel. I'm good. I'm too young to know, and too tall to play. But I still play.

The floor, stained with wood chips, hurts softly when I land, but I laugh it off and do the same routine a thousand times over.

I'm covered in dirt. Terrified. It's sunny weather shaded by trees surrounding this vestige of safety. 

We look a messy blur, but we always will act as kids. Give me a hand please. I need to get up, and there's a hand willing. Your hand is gripped and a smile stays on the face. 

You feel like nothing is wrong is the world, because you haven't discovered reality yet. You stay inside this paradise, laughing endless hours away and realise that there is nothing you need except the space to play and be.

I'm here, on top of it all. This cobalt blue steel cable jump is ancient. Thirty or fourty years separate you and this object, but you share the emotions and memories of thousands of others that have attempted and achieved what you have, but for now you do not know this. You are innocence.

Ready to jump, ready to let go of everything for that feeling. That notion, of freedom. That one thing you chase eternally, mortally. You have it as a 6 year old you. Now you know what it was like. Freedom.

My hands reach out to paradise,  but it never calls home.

It stays and waves goodbye with a dry breeze.

Asleep.

And in that one moment, I swore we were but infinite.

Sing to me.
To dream, I desire.
I define your words of tire, to bed.
Where it remains, a place of security.
Just asleep, and then leave me be.

Don't try to wake me, you know I'll be gone.
Never feel for me, I'd want you to know.
Deep in the cells of this small heart, I'll feel you.
So.

I don't want to wake up on my own anymore.
I don't want to wake up.
On my own.
Anymore.

Don't you dare feel for me, I want you know.
Deep in these cells of mine.
My heart, I have to go.

There is another world.
Is there.
There is a better world.
There is.

Oh there must be.
Well, there must be.
Oh.
There must be.
Well, there must be, well.