Bitter Sweet Symphony

He listens to the music as the beat tickles the fine hairs in his ears and trickles into his mind turning into giant waves crashing into the beaches of his mindscape. The notes and words soak into the surface and make their way into their perspective places, exciting the electrons and following along paths that his mind had created for such songs. But this song, these notes find a very different path. One that he had thought he’s protected. One that had walls that had formed within days and this song plowed through the walls like a bunker busting missile.What happened was small at first. Memories began to light up in his mind without him wanting them to, but then they rushed out of their now broken fortress. They fell onto his mind like a tropical storm onto a fishing town. The sheets of rain eventually made their way to his eyes, no matter how hard he fought them from rushing forward. He just wanted to work. Why couldn’t he just work? He shuddered as his shirt became speckled with the salt water waves of the storm. 

Turning in his desk was no good, because the memories now stared at him through tiny panes of glass causing such pain in his very being. The time ahead where he would have to be pulled away from them as well as having to say things like, “It will be okay. Daddy loves you forever and ever. I’ll see you in a week.” 

He knows he will sit in his car and he will cry tears that will feel like they will never stop once he rounds the corner. Once he knows his children will never see him faulter. He is the one who has to be there for them, to comfort them, to be their rock. He knows he will be, he will do his best for them until he has nothing left, then he will give even more. 

But for now he cries silently at his desk. Staring through sheets of salt water that cover his sad eyes like liquid veils morphing his vision. Will they hate him? Will they hate him forever? He hopes against hope that they will forgive him for not being able to continue being there. He hopes that they will understand eventually that Daddy is a better person now. That Dad would never be able to fix himself if he felt like he was constantly fixing everything else. He resigns that he will do his best and hope that will be the everything that they need. He sighs and wipes the salted tears from his cheeks. 

He looks up to see his neighbor mouth, “Are you okay?” He nods in denial of everything he just experiences. He nods in denial of everything that he is about to experience. He nods in the face of the absolute end of an era. 
“Bitter Sweey Symphony” by Rio Martin

Unbearable

It’s nighttime and the bear family gets ready to sleep in their den. Papa settles the Cubs down and after some playtime and playful nibbling, the Cubs settle for bed. Papa bear then goes over to Mother bear, who is restless and lays his giant paw on her back and strokes her fur. She stops moving and falls fast asleep. Papa looks at everyone and listens to the sound of them sleeping in the den. A sound he had become all to familiar with. 

He steps out of the den and sits on his haunch, staring up at the pale night, the moon’s light illuminates the forest. He wonders if the moon is lonely, up there in the sky. Papa nods at the moon in agreement, they will keep each other company.

Night after night, papa keeps the moon company, but one night the moon didn’t show. Papa gazed at the sky and all around looking for his friend. Where had his friend gone. Papa bear year yawned and went back inside. He laid down with mother bear and laid their listening to everyone sleep. Soon he fell asleep, cold and alone on the floor. Wondering, where his moon went and hoped it would return.

“Unbearable” by Rio Martin

Eyes

It’s in the eyes, the moment sadness sweeps across the face. It’s as if the sadness is a pebble that is dropped into the pool of the eyes and the waves slowly flow across the face. Depending on the size of the peddle, it can be a subtle or extreme change to ones outward appearance. I cannot tell you how to hide from the pebbles, because they are everywhere. What I can tell you, is that there is happiness and joy in world. They are more like a warm breeze that blows across the pool. Making your whole face change from the smile in your beautiful eyes, where your dimples meet your nose and to the corners of your mouth. So may warm breezes find your face where ever you may roam. 
“Eyes” by Rio Martin 

Just me being me

Does anyone have so many realities floating around in their head, that sometimes you catch yourself living another one instead of the one you’re in? As a writer, I have 20 worlds floating in my head at a time. It’s magical and scary all at the same time. So many lives in my mind. So much love, so much sadness, and so much adventure all drifting through the ether of my cranium. People wonder why I forget things, simply put, I misplaced it. It’s in there, but where did I leave it? I maybe left it by those robots or maybe with those love birds over there, snap, it might be with the orcs. They are a shady bunch. My reality is a multiverse with my brain being the plain in which they all touch. Trapped in the middle of such a glorious place can be deceivingly beautiful and tempting to normality. I crave what lies in my brain as much as it seems to need me. It’s symbiotic in the purity and the insanity of it. I love it unabashedly and hope that someday I can finally show the world my body resides in the worlds inside my mind. 
“Just me being me”
Rio Martin 

Secret Identity 

I use a pen name because I work for important people and I like a certain amount of anonymity when it come to being able to write what I want without fallout from my real life job. Plus the person who writes the stories, this person right here is destinctly different that the person who uses a key card every day, wearing casual dress, and drinking Starbucks. This person drinks pots of coffee and listens to loud industrial music and ponders the many worlds in his head from which to write from. I have so many stories to tell but that is the problem, how do I chose and is it the best choice.

I often find that If I don’t tack down a story somewhere it is gone forever in the ether that is my strange mind. I hear people talk to me at work but sometimes I am far away on a world like no other, standing on the plains of fire wandering aimlessly in search of lost jewel to bring sanity back to my lost world. I thirst for sanity in a world gone mad since the dark prince raided the ivory guild and made off with the Jewel of Toleranica. But then I snap back and remember the cover sheets on the TPS reports. 

Two people shoved into one space and I don’t know how long I can keep them stuck together before one wins over the other. They both fight the good fight but the victor has yet to claim the throne.

Until next time kiddies.