Don’t Close your Eyes/Death in Syria

This one is for all the readers out there…

The Scene:

Lalala.  She was singing to herself in her mirror.  Lalala.  

She kept singing.  He walked in from across the room.  He walked right past her and jumped out the window without making a peep.  She wasn’t confused, she didn’t even realize anything had happened.  She kept looking at herself in the mirror and singing.  Lalala.  

His ambition went out the window.

The Scenario:  

Sky-blue backdrop, fixated upward, as he stood on blacktop.  Blue same as outside, different size; smaller.  

A Milder than average weather cycle suffocated the Midwest in March.  Parasites come to, sucking and fucking and bugging, in multitudes.  In time.

(Ah, the price we pay for the high temp. and the Climate Change.  Take in that nice fresh breath of burnt dinosaur remnants at $5 bucks a gallon (it’s a steal), and a priceless external cost for all.) 

Shoes lay tied at the door.  A couple knotted to never be undone, a couple unlaced pairs lay slumped; sprawled, intertwined in a heap of worn souls and fabric near a dark-red stained door.  The inner original windows of the complex sat semi-cracked, smeared and dusted with a layer of sediment, the storm windows between the outside and the inner remained, as of recent, untested; the weather had not been a show of force for many months.  Glass is liquid, so hanging liquid for dozens of decades.  Their time will come, the weather would be horrible at sometime without a doubt.  The days drew longer, and longer, while the sun lulled in the sky above.  Kids stared as they became warmed, blinded, and transfixed.  The days of listening to Queen and possibly seeing them play a concert live were relevantly over, but it is an appropriate mention of feeling.  The days of wishing you were a kid were behind you.  Live it while it lasts they have to say.  The sun was above and millions of miles away, touching each and everything its ray hit along the way.  Still burning in the sky, as we all burnt down our towns and enemies wives and children.  Space was time and time was space.  Heat was warm and thought was deep.  They used to say Religion is killing it nowadays.  That was then this is now, that was now this is then.  

1.  In less than the words above:  ‘If it feels good do it.’

Besides we all know time travel is far too hard to do, yet we are sort of doing it now in real-time.

Whether it be 1950, 1984, 1990, 2002, or last week, or five-seconds ago, or before this read, in our perception, the same things have been happening ever since time began.  

You know, there was love, heartbreak, and reaction back then right?  …

2.  So you don’t need to.


Other guests ate fatty pork cuts which were steamed in water until the liquid eventually evaporated from around the isles of red cubes, which then turned grey, rendering them plump, juicy, and irresistible.  Even a King after breakfast wouldn’t be able to pass this splendid dish.  

Examples, examples, examples.  Description.  Incepting and accepting the vision for your own.  accept (except) the permission.  If not ask again.  One chance, only then the next.  And then onto another day and a new then and now.  Step over the wrecked.  Moan and move on.


“I will fuck up your whole fucking life right now!”

Joe stepped back at the words from his partner, and he turned his attention to the flashing screen on the set.  His eyes were fixated on the television, a tear came out of the corner and disappeared down his cheek onto his faded shirt.  He said he had not been affected like that before.


His partner demanded, at him again aggressively, more animated than before.

“The program hit my heartstrings.  It is just amazing how we can all be so blind.”

“I said I am going to fuck you up for what you did.”

“Its not worth it…”

They looked toward each other, mid-breakfast, commercial television streaming a cacophony of consumerism in the background after the emotional story of triumph.

“He is blind and is doing better than we are.”

“He can’t even see.  He can look past the bullshit to what really matters.”

“We have all of the things we need and we can’t even use them to our advantage.”

They sat ashamed of themselves and continued to eat their breakfast.  Joe flipped the t.v. off to sit in complete silence.  His partner walked out.

That night the two dreamt of box-cutters, power-drills, and bleach being put to their overlooked functioning eyes.  They didn’t deserve what they had, and they could see that in this state of R.E.M., a bit calmer and more secluded.  Nothing tranquil about this calm, no way out of this seclusion.  For hours images flashed in their nightmares.  They had been tired from the fighting, too tired to simply open their eyes and escape their thoughts.


A small thing.

A big thing.

Anything at all.

Is some-thing, some-thing truly important to us all.

(3.  count it before its gone)


Privileged my ass; a dumb blond is a dumb blond.  Calling it like it is.  I am not dumb, but I am blond.  I am a stereotype.  Welcome to the club.  We are all dumb.  


About Terry Scott Niebeling

Hello, My name is Terry Scott, a human being with flaws. twitter: @sirterryscott Buy my ebooks:
This entry was posted in Uncategorized and tagged , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s