The Monster Inside

I'm tired,

falling into another daydream,

wanting someone to grab me by the arm

and shake me back to reality

I'm choking on my own blood

walking back and forth through the dark, musty

corridors of my mind

the ceiling drips,

drips

twisting,

falling, 

shaking,

the walls of the corridors breathe with

every step I take

they envelop me

and then release

gripping,

releasing,

pulling me along

every ten feet,

a dim lamp -

but the shadows are stronger

I can only see the outlines

the walls pull me along

The stale air sets heavy in my lungs

it is a thick river

flowing in

and out

I breath and I step in sync with 

the corridors

my footsteps echo

my heartbeat echos

every step is heavier

sinking,

falling,

holding fast to the slimy, 

moss-covered bricks

holding fast to the light of the next lantern

holding fast to the hope of an escape

The darkness weakens me

I fall

and succumb to the grip of the 

serpent-like floor

the bricks become scales,

the hideous skin of the beast,

secreting an acid

that eats my skin

and burns

and dissolves me

until I cannot feel the difference

between myself and the floor

oozing,

unfolding,

I become one with the beast

and I breathe as it breathes

my heart beats as its heart beats

falling,

sinking,

moss-covered and slimy,

I become stone

I am bricks

I am corridors

the dim lights hit my surface

and I am one with the monster...

- Feb. 20, 1984, A.D.

Letter to Stan Ridgeway

Dear Stan,

Hello!  I'm glad to see you got this letter.  My name is Sharon Porter, and I'm a devoted follower of yours.  I only wish I could keep up-to-date with your projects.  Not much news comes around Central Illinois.  Anyway, I just wanted to write and tell you that you have a fantastic voice.  I'm also very impressed by the lyrics and your style on the keyboards.

Me?  I'm a poet, but would love to pursue music.  I just put together my first two songs with a friend of mine.  In each one, I'm basically reciting my poems to the music.  The first one sounds like a showtune.  It's called, "What Frightens Me Most? Insanity".  Although the poem is quite serious, the song sounds pretty light.  It's a little haunting.  The second one is meant to be kind of pseudo-punk (perhaps a little bit of a take-off on valley).  It's called, "I'm Vacant".  Anyway, we're getting together an acoustic guitarist, a violinist, harpist, flutist, trumpet player, and perhaps me doing some strange effects with walkie-talkies.  Although we may be playing at a place locally, I can't honestly take any of this seriously, but it should be a lot of fun.  My dream is to someday be able to afford keyboards.  Any suggestions as to how to succeed in music?  Is there any easy way?  No, I don't suppose there is.

Well, I hope to continue following you in the future.  If I don't ever get a chance to meet you, I hope to at least see you perform someday.  Or who knows?  Maybe someday you'll see me perform.  If you ever hear of a band called Pagan Lip-Readers, don't pass up the chance to go see them.  I'll probably be with them doing something or other.  Until then (!!!), I hope you have a lot of success and go very far.  I'm behind you all the way.

Love,

Sharon Porter

- Feb. 1, 1984, A.D.