The Abstract Art Gallery
Broken, confused writer Jack Thomas puts the images in his mind on display in this "Blog." He dives into personal experience and his observations of the world to share his take on morality, childhood trauma, creativity, relationships, sex, politics, religion, violence, reality and more. Using countless formats from narrative driven short stories, to poetry, to song lyrics and philosophical explanations.
...won’t stop anymore.
Plot uproar while clocks tock toward ideas.
Caught unable to endure baring all.
Descent, the floor nears.
Tall it toppled.
Last call, lost all.
Cost, fall.
Rebooted system insists in assistance.
Persistent pride, resistant stride.
Unwanted guide...
Reality
Obscure, Subjective
Changing, Morphing, Evolving
Nothing Is For Sure
Wavelength
No One Thing Is Real
The All Is Mental, Static
Global Consciousness
Understand, You Don't See Reality
It Is An Illusion, A Fantasy
The Truth Is Simply Blurred
As Is What You've Heard
Subjective Experience Is Just Thought
...we always do this twisted little dance.
And we fight.
And we get over it.
And we fight.
And we get over it.
There’s no reason when either of us can’t quit on the other.
But we don’t.
Regardless of whether or not I ignore her for entire days at a time.
Whether I tell her my deepest truths or not.
Whether who I show up as is truly me or the lie I’ve made up.
She’s always there.
Always teaching me more.
Always making me better.
Always making me whole.
So I’m always here.
And I’m a bastard.
But I’m still here.
Who she saw as a child is not who she sees now.
Those are two different people.
My innocence...
...bought a sword a couple of weeks ago and I’ve been using Youtube to figure out how to use it so I can go hunt that dragon. Found a cheap shield on Ebay. It’ll be on the way in a couple of day. Also ordered an armor suit to have a few more defense points and...
Read More...out of the other still focused on the black hole. This copy is distorted. Somehow different. Subtle deformities. The eyes aren’t quite right. The nose isn’t quite right. It’s a monster. He spreads his arms out and a glowing yellow field of light divides him from Isaiah and Sarah. They stare at each other, as if communicating a telepathic message they both face the field and fire, but nothing happens.
“Can you move us through...
Read More...Kid’s sight taught to fight, not opt to sit. Slight opposite, aight? Knock, knock the shit.
His brain high. Tame, fine. Yet, came night and fight or flight after crime. Same time, saw the light. “Who’s there?”...
Read MoreStruggle writing words?
Get over it and write, now!
You’re holding YOU back!
And you won’t get anywhere without work
Without struggle, sweat, pain, anger and hurt
It might seem quite stark
At times a bit dark
But writing must be treated like a flirt
Dedication
Focus, Determination
Challenging, Disciplining, Teaching
Minds That Want Work
Sit!
...what the hell is going on?” Isaiah asks.
“Seth has spoken your name…” Ref says from within Isaiah’s mind.
“THAT’S IMPOSSIBLE!” his heart races. Isaiah’s palms are instantly sweaty. The hairs on his arms and the back of his neck stand on end. Suspended midair, he turns to the church. Sarah visibly sees the fear crawling on the surface of Isaiah’s skin, that’s enough to send her into a panic, and to also look where he...
Read More...You kill us? He won’t even do his own dirty work. Has his little bitch doing it?” Isaiah look away from him. “Brainwashed jackass,” he says.
“Watch your mouth fool! It is you who is brainwashed!” the priest says. “Allow me to introduce myself, my name is Abe-“
“HOV!” Isaiah yells out, interrupting the priest.
Sarah giggles quietly in her spot.
The priest takes a moment of silence before saying, “Abraham.”
“Is it now?” Isaiah asks. “Thought that name was for those following the light.”
“I suppose now is as good a time as any to exercise sin and rid the earth of evils such as yourselves,” Abraham says.
“Forgive me, Designer, for what I must do,” Sarah says.
“No need to bluff girl. Your shackles...
Read More
...stupid whore. Eyeballing you ball her eyes. Held up by her thighs, hair dangling all on the floor. It turns me on to watch you nail her to the door. I sneak in when you leave her bolted and bleeding, as if Jesus was a crucified woman who got raped whilst taking beatings. And I feed her my seed. She’s restrained. And she pleads.
I don’t write for you. I write for me, a real OG. Raised rich and white, skin darker than an African field worker at night. Ideas so bright even the shadows run away and out of sight. Privileged as fuck, while you struggle, and it’s alright.
Lines dirtier than smoke from falling...
Read More... continues to ask. Hopeful. But as the hours gather and all that exists is this place within the ring of fire, separate from the rest of the universe, hope withers and he goes catatonic.
Curled into the fetal position he stays in the center of the ring for hours and hours. And then a day. And then two days. And then three.
A week in this prison of emptiness, this most awful of places, Sebastian gets up. He’s still trapped. The screams are infinite. Everywhere. Everything.
And two weeks go by. Sebastian has not yet seen or heard anything but the screams and the roars and the gargling and the tortured pain.
And three weeks go by. Sebastian screams in agony. In hate. In anger for being aware of being in this place. Stuck in this hell. He’s attempted...
Read More...deep distorted voice says “It’ll leave if I do this!” While moving your jaw open and shut. Alone on your side it’s as though you first thought it and then said it. As if the demon only exists across the mirror. And everything on this end is voluntary. Thought out. Intentional. Choice.
“It’s in my head!” you say. “He only wants me to think it’s his doing!”
The demon lip syncs each word, hand moving your puppet jaw.
You think to pierce skin with the blade of the razor and the demon reaches back down to your arm and begins to press it into the skin. Vibrant burgundy blood gathers around the cut. Then wraps around the wrist and drips to...
Read More
...looks familiar when he gets out of the dumpster. He’d already been roaming unfamiliar streets when he found the building and jumped out the window avoiding ghouls.
“So, I’m lost…” he says, back on the street unable to tell which direction he came from. “Nothing new there.”
Luckily the coast was mostly clear with exception for two or three stragglers. Ghouls from the night before. Alex quickly disposed of them and took the opportunity to track and find painkillers ahead of time. An expired bottle of Tylenol. “Fun times await you, little ones.” He tells the bottle of Oxycontin as he shoves it in his backpack and continues his journey...
Read More
