The Holes In My Dreams

In The Demon’s Head #98:The Holes In My Dreams

April 12, 2013

Hello everyone and Happy finally Friday. I’m closing out this week with my third photo-blogging challenge post as well as some news. I’d like to start with that news before I head into unveiling the picture. Next week is going to be a very special and busy week all at the same time. That’s because next week mark’s the #100 edition of “In The Demon’s Head” What I plan on is a retrospective of my journey to #100 and I want you guys to be a part of that. I want your thoughts on the blog, the direction it’s taken or what it means to you. If you don’t have a specific thought there then I’d like your thoughts or feedback concerning a particular piece of writing or advice that you read here and how it touched you. I would like to add them to the 100 edition of “In The Demon’s Head” and I can’t do that without you. You can send anything via email with the subject 100th special. That’s enough about what’s going on next week why don’t we look at the picture today and see where that can take us:

The Holes in My Dreams

My nightmares haunt me,

Even in the daytime,

It’s one fucked up life that I live,

I feel as if my dreams,

Stick with me even in the daytime,

There are nights,

Where things like shootings,

And death haunt me,

Then there nights,

When the weird,

Sneak out of their box,

And begin to toy with my brain,

They show me things that can’t be real,

But they seem almost too lifelike,

To strange,

Almost as if ripped from the fires of hell,

I wanted to wake up,

But the dreams,

Would just hold me in,

I fought,

And fought,

Hoping for the light of day,

To wake me from this nightmare,

But when it finally comes,

I wake up,

But it’s only a few hours of salvation,

Until eventually,

I fall asleep again,

And the nightmares,

And the horrid images,

Creep back in my head,

Keeping sleep,

From ever being peaceful,

Again

About The Piece

This week was one of the hardest weeks I’ve had since I started doing this. It just seemed that everything had no real thing that screamed at me. I was able to find a story within each picture. It’s not something that was easy but I’m proud to say that I did it. This piece itself pretty much sums up how my mind works 90% of the time so just remember that should you ever meet me.

That will wrap it up for this week. Remember that next week I will be posting 4 brand new editions of “In The Demon’s Head” which is a feat that I haven’t done the entire time that this blog has been around. Also Monday will mark the beginning of my youtube videos. Until then you can connect with me in the following ways:

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You can also subscribe to the blog by putting your email address in the box at the top right. This will bring the post straight to your inbox. If you feel gracious you can donate to me by using the button at the top of the screen. Until the next time you want to take a trip through the gates of hell and into the demon’s head, I’m Kyle Robinson wishing you a safe trip back to the surface. 

The Chains of Hell

In The Demon’s Head #97: The Chains Of Hell

April 10, 2013

What’s going on everyone? It’s Wednesday which means its HUMP DAY! We’re only two more days from the weekend. Wednesday also means that it’s time for another piece from the damaged mind of yours truly in another photo-blogging piece. Before we get to the picture though I’d like to let you know something.

This blog has changed drastically over the last few weeks. However, that doesn’t mean that some of the old stuff won’t resurface. I’m going to explain a lot more when I write my 100th post next week. I’m very excited about that post for more reasons than one. But enough with that let’s get onto the new picture:

The Chains Of Hell

This deep dark hole that I’m in,

Seems to have no way out,

I don’t know how to climb to the surface,

The damaged part of my head,

Tells me to stay,

But the rest of begs to go,

Even if I wanted to the chain,

The chain would hold me in place,

I’m trying to remember how I got here,

But it all seems kind of fuzzy,

****

I used to be a businessman,

Working 9-5 every Monday-Friday

I would go through the parking garage,

On my way to,

And from work,

It was on one of those days,

That I was hit in the back of the head,

I blacked out,

When I woke up I was riding in the back of a van,

My vision was hazy,

And I didn’t understand those that were talking,

Slowly,

I drifted back off,

When I was finally brought to,

I felt the chain attached to my leg,

The hole was dark,

And quiet,

There was a plate of food,

And some water,

I drank and ate,

I didn’t think about what could have been in it,

I was just grateful to have it,

****

So much time seemed to have passed since that day,

But so little of it I could remember,

Maybe it was because,

Every day was exactly the same,

Maybe it was something else,

I could never be sure,

The days and nights mixed,

And finally,

I stopped trying to keep track,

My mind drifted back,

I had met very few people,

The conversation that floated in,

Was of the very first meeting I had,

With a man who called himself “Terry”

****

No one understood why I was there,

Least of all Me,

Then one day I met Terry,

He was the apparent leader behind the entire thing,

One day while he was down in this place,

With us,

I asked him,

Why I was there,

His laughter still echoes,

To this day,

“You were just,

In the wrong place at the wrong,

Time,”

He said.

“Our victims,

Choose themselves,

By circumstance,

And accident,

You just happened to fall to one of those.”

“What are you going to do with me?”

The sound of my voice was weaker then ever,

“All in due time.” They said

****

That run in was days,

Weeks,

Maybe Months ago,

I can’t ever be sure,

As I sit here I can only hope,

That the footsteps coming,

Are coming to help me,

End this life,

Otherwise,

I may attempt,

To take the chain,

And end it all,

On my own,

Even if it lands me in hell

About The Piece

This piece was strange to write. I enjoyed the character that developed while writing it and how he slowly but surely loses hope. It’s one of the things that I enjoy about writing most, the ability to watch characters change. I’d love to know what you thought of this piece so please feel free to share in the comments section.

You can connect with me in the following ways:

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If you like what you read, you can donate by using the button at the top of the blog. You can also have the blog post delivered to your inbox by putting your email in the box in the upper right hand corner. Finally, feel free to share this with the buttons at the top of the post as it would be appreciated.

Until the next time you want to take a trip through the gates of hell and into the demon’s head, I’m Kyle Robinson wishing you a safe trip back to the surface.   

The Face

In The Demon’s Head #96: The Face

April 8, 2013

Hello everyone. Hope that you’re Monday is off to an interesting start. Before I show you today’s picture, I want to tell you a little story. Saturday I was moving some files around on my computer and noticed that I haven’t moved in a while. When I moved my writing stuff onto a backup harddrive, I noticed a file called “Metal Jacket Magazine” For those of you who don’t know what it is, it was a magazine I started a couple years ago. I had the idea of putting out monthly issues and only made it a few months in before I lost the idea and ambition to do it. Fast forward almost two years and a platform has been developed. I won’t say that this Magazine will make reappearance, but it was good to look at some old ideas. Who knows in the future it may come to something and Metal Jacket Magazine may be available again.

Enough of my Bullshitting, let’s take a look at today’s picture:

The Face

The image is burned into my head,

Like a horribly done name,

On a knitted sweater,

I can’t explain why,

But I know that he’s coming back,

I may confuse you,

But stick with me,

It started years ago,

I was a small child,

And I was taken away from my parents,

They claimed that I was crazy,

That I saw things,

That weren’t there,

That I heard voices,

That were only in my head,

The place they took me,

Kept me,

Took us on trips,

It was during one of these outings,

That I saw that face for the first time,

On a tree,

Carved in with a knife,

As if just for me,

In my head,

I knew it was a sign,

I knew that it was something,

That would lead me,

In life,

And I was right,

The face,

Was given as a way,

To choose the path,

That I needed to walk,

Eventually,

My parents died,

And every test proved that I was normal,

But I had been taught how to cheat the system,

By the face,

As soon as I was on the outside,

I began his work,

Murder,

Killing,

And saving their souls,

For him,

It wasn’t long,

Until I found myself caught again,

And this time I was put in prison,

And that’s where I stand now,

Still doing his work,

Only this time it’s inmates,

People who bare his mark,

The mark of the Face,

I feel vindicated,

Every time one of them stops breathing,

As if he’s proud of me,

But I can’t ever be sure,

I can only sit and wait,

For my next target,

I have a feeling,

That it won’t be long,

Before he pops up,

His face again.

About The Piece

This was one of those pictures where I really had no idea what I was doing at first. I had a few ideas go through my head but I didn’t know if any of them would work. Finally I sat down and started running with this piece. I can understand how it’s kind of confusing but the underlying meaning should be obvious. At least I hope so.

You can connect with me on these networks:

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If you would like to email me you can do that. You can also donate if your heart so desires. Finally you can subscribe to the blog by putting your email in the upper right hand corner. Until the next time you want to take a trip through the gates of hell and into the demon’s head, I’m Kyle Robinson wishing you a safe trip back to the surface. 

The Ride

In The Demon’s Head #95: The Ride

April 5, 2013

Happy Friday everyone. I hope that your weekend is ready to kick off in huge fashion. It’s been a real productive week for me. Editing is coming along on “Six Feet Under” and hopefully I can have it ready to go by next month. On a non-writing note, this is a huge weekend in my house. Why you may wonder? This Sunday is Wrestlemania Sunday. I’m sure almost everyone knows what Wrestlemania is. In my house though it’s almost like a tradition almost as big as the Superbowl. I’m very excited about Wrestlemania Sunday That’s enough about what’s going on this weekend let’s get onto today’s festivities. Take a look at the picture for today:

The Ride

It came up for sale on the internet,

One of those Facebook sites,

They wanted $350 dollars,

But the car looked to be in absolute,

Perfect condition,

I was skeptical,

But I took the meeting,

And decided that I wanted to know,

If it was too good to be true,

My head said that it was,

But I wanted to believe,

I was a kid,

Working minimum wage,

And needed a car,

It wasn’t the most masculine car,

But if it worked,

I couldn’t complain,

The car ran fine,

And the price tag,

Was indeed real,

So I bought it,

Weeks went by with no problems,

Then one day I found the car across the street,

As if pushed out of my driveway,

Perfectly parked,

I drove it for a few days,

Then one day I came out,

To find all the windows destroyed,

All four door windows,

The windshield,

And the back glass,

All broken in,

Nothing was missing,

And all of the glass seemed to be on the ground,

As if broken from the inside,

I fixed the windows,

And on the first drive to work,

I looked into the rearview,

And in the flash,

I thought I saw a child,

No more then 7,

But in a blink,

They were gone,

I sat at home that night,

And thought to look up the car,

Information was scarce,

But I found something that blew my mind,

The very car I was driving,

Had been wrecked,

Shortly after purchase,

The mother was driving down the road,

Her 7 year old son in the back,

They said that she had a meltdown,

And drove over a bridge,

Into the river,

The car sank,

As she laughed,

The son tried to fight,

But couldn’t get out before he drown,

The car was towed from the river,

Funerals held,

And the car was refinished,

Inside and Out,

And resold,

Reports were that people kept seeing a child,

In the back,

The kid was smiling,

In a sadistic way,

Laughing,

As if he was enjoying what was,

About to happen,

I laid awake that night,

And in my head,

I heard the laughter,

The sadistic laughter,

Of mother and child,

I heard a noise outside,

And leaned up to look out the window,

In the drivers’ seat,

The woman looked at me,

The split grin rolled across her face,

The son,

In the back smiling devilishly,

The car rolled backwards,

Slowly,

And suddenly made impact with an on-coming semi,

The car was crushed,

But as I stand here,

At the junk yard,

Looking at the scrap of metal,

I can’t help but thank the woman for saving my life,

Or maybe the son,

Should be the one to thank,

Because that grin,

Still haunts my dreams,

And I swear she mouthed the words,

Join Us,

Before the car rolled back,

In fact that image,

Still sends a chill down my spine,

I’m happy that they finally found a new home,

But I feel like I keep seeing something in the mirrors,

Of the house now,

About The Piece

This was one of the longer pieces that I’ve written for this photo-blogging challenge. It’s also one of the hardest that I had to come up with. The picture never really seemed to speak to me but I think I found a good story within it. Overall, the three pictures that I did this week seemed to be the hardest I’ve ran into but I think that the pieces do them justice. I’d love to know what you think. Feel free to share your feedback in the comments section.

You can Like the Page on Facebook or Follow me on Twitter and Pinterest so that you stay up to date on everything. You can check out my Smashwords Library. If you like what you read you can subscribe to the blog feed by entering your email in the upper right hand corner box. And if you’re feeling generous you can donate using the paypal button at the top of the screen.

Until the next time you want to take a trip through the gates of hell and into the demon’s head, I’m Kyle Robinson wishing you a safe trip back to the surface. 

Cleansing of the Storm

In The Demon’s Head #94: Cleansing of the Storm

April 3, 2013

This isn’t something that I usually do, back to back post. But let’s face it I kind of fucked up the schedule earlier this week. Just being honest. Hope your day is going well and it’s not too damn cold. If spring would ever get here life would just be better and I’d bet all of you would agree with me there. But that’s enough of my bullshit rambling let’s take a look at today’s picture:

Cleansing of The Storm

There were memories in that house,

Memories that wouldn’t go away,

Memories that were fresh like scabs,

On open wounds that were inflicted,

By those who were supposed to care,

But were so deep,

They were like scars that added,

To the story of an ugly outside,

Life was never easy,

But the end would come soon,

I kept holding out hope,

While new scabs were formed,

And the old ones,

Turned into more ugly scars,

I knew it would come eventually,

To take me away,

And then I heard it one day,

The crack of thunder,

Unmistakable,

Like the clap of god,

Was ushering its way through,

I knew this was the moment,

The day,

That I had been waiting for,

I felt the walls shake,

In the hallowed,

Shell of a Home,

If you could call it a home

I called it a prison,

The thunder clapped again,

As I walked out the front door,

And I felt the building shudder again behind me,

I walked briskly,

I didn’t know where I was going,

But what was coming,

I didn’t want to be there for,

The storm raged,

And I hid,

In a cellar,

At least a mile,

Maybe more away,

When the sun came out,

I walked back down the road,

And the walls,

Were flattened,

Shaken off its foundation,

And collapsed in on itself,

No part of me wanted it anymore,

And I turned walking back down the road,

Never taking a single look back,

Letting the Storm,

Open new doors,

And a new life,

For me

About The Piece

This piece was inspired both by my strange mind with a bit of influence from Carrie Underwoods’ Hit song “Blown Away” I’m hoping that I didn’t copy it quite as bad as I thought in my head. Either way the piece came out amazing I think. Let me know in the comments what you think of the picture and the piece.

Remember you can Like the Facebook Page, Follow me on Twitter and Pinterest. As well as check me out on Smashwords. You can get the blog post delivered directly to your email address by signing up in the post on the top right. If you feeling generous you can donate to help feed me, it’s Tax Deductible.

Until the next time you want to take a trip through the gates of hell and into the demon’s head, I’m Kyle Robinson wishing you a safe trip back to the surface.