Okay, so. The update for Mask upon Mask is almost ready. It just needs some touching up,so stay tuned for the update. This was something wrote just after seeing Dark Knight, so basically it was finished at four am, the night of the Dark Knight Premier. Anyway, I put it up for all the DK fans because I just loved when The Joker was dropping from roof of the building.
Anyway,my tribute to Heath Ledger.
My it please his gloriness and most worshipful majestic Joker
I'm flying. The wind builds and builds, it's pressing ears to a skull. The hair is plastered to the skull and yes, I am flying. I've been flying before, a very long time ago. So long ago. It's coming back. Everything is just coming back, the darkness around me and the impact, the inevitable impact is just looming but I don't care. I'm reeling, out of control, yet everything is determined, the distance I'm falling, the speed at which I'm careening through the air.
I'm flipping and spinning and it's glorious, I'm dancing with death, it's beautiful, I can remember that too. She was dancing in a grimy apartment to a gritty gramophone. A gray dress never looked so good on a woman.
And she was all mine. Even with the scars she was mine.
If only she could see me flying,
I'm going faster and faster, and I'm laughing because I'm free. Free at last. People fight over it, the scream at each other and kill for it, but none of them understand. The only person in the way of freedom is your heroes. They are the traitors, people with plans, they're constricted, they aren't free because there's no room to move when you've got a plan.
Ah, too much thinking, I don't like to think unless I'm dreaming and oh, I have such wonderfully terrible dreams.
The concrete is rushing up and my mind should be freezing with fear, but time is moving differently now, my life is supposed to be flashing before my eyes. But I suppose I have no regrets so there isn't any point. But HA! I'm flying, life doesn't matter, people don't deserve to have time. They waste their lives on numbers, the number of dollars they have in their bank account, the number of their social security, the number of years in their lives, the numbers stretching on and on. They always say that infinity is limitless, but it's still bound in their minds, people think in straight lines but explosions aren't flat.
People aren't drawn on paper.
Ah, It's getting closer and closer. That gray concrete, gray like my woman's dress and that grimy apartment.
Gray gray gray gray, such a monotone color, so endless, like the clouds on the cities many faceted buildings. Ah the city, my city, my playground and home and work all in one. They call me the prince of crime, but what is crime exactly? Just an empty word with negative connotation. Some words have so many different meanings, words like direction, motive, and falling.
Free Falling.
My leg is nearly wrenched out of my hip. Batsy has caught me.
I never doubted for a second that he wouldn't.
Poor, uncertain, doubtful, batsy with his code and rules and motives.
Whose to say he hasn't got a wife and some smiling kids holding onto an over sized yellow Labrador who has a tennis ball clasped in a happy doggy smile. He might even live in one of those houses on the east side with pillars and grass fields. He might even live with his parents as neighbors and where his kitchen perpetually smells like apple pie.
A real American lad with fancy haircuts and who has a job as an accountant in some expensive law firm. He probably has friends over for those boring parties where everyone stands around awkwardly, eating small crumbs of food that never satisfy an appetite.
But the truth is that Batsy is more alone than he's ever been before. He might smile mechanically, he might laugh at a joke but he's addicted to the city, just as I am. He's addicted to the chaos, the death of all those selfish, ignorant people but he has to save them, can't bare to live with himself because every time someone dies he takes it as a personal assault, because that's batsy.
But me, I realized long ago that I would never ever be alone, I have my love, it's the city and it drove me to what I am. The gray concrete forest.
The woman with chestnut hair dancing in the cold apartment to a gritty jazz tune played by long forgotten musicians.
I was flying.
So, yeah, I'm working on the Mask upon mask update, please don't crucify me or worse forget my story!
Anyway, REVIEW!