there's something that i can't grasp about writing. something that will never be there. there is just a desire to be more spontaneous. i can't keep it all in till the end of the paragraph. there is a need for transparency in me that defies the written world. it rejects the slow thought out syllables. it wants to tumble out of the flood gate of my mouth without heed to social convention or even grammatical convention. but what pours out over my solid lips is only the spill off of a maelstrom of thought that swirls in my mind. the immaterial of my though passes over the muscles of my vocal cord, shaped by my thrashing tongue, and finally sent on their way by my chapped lips. it starts out strong like a ship in the ocean of the air, it losses its way in all the noise and disappears in the gusty storm of ideas. the storm of intellectualism that rages on, not only outside my parted lips but up inside that whirlpool of my mind. but it's different in my mind. i can still feel there. there is still the undertow of humanity that sometimes still sucks me below the surface and into it's delicious, bitter-sweet current. that under current can only come out in the stillness. when it wouldn't be frightened by the battering of ideas and the bellowing of the concepts. it only comes out when my thrashing lips are stilled. it crawls out of my mind through the little holes no one can see. it stretches its wings and tried to fly when the great ships with eager sails have been sunk. strangeness of strangeness, it seems to come out when my fingers fly. when the mind is numbed. the thousands of inputs and the waters of my thought are beat flat. then it opens up and the infinitely concentrated drop pervades my whole body. it is so light. is it humanity? no, humanity is the storm and the divine is the silence. they blend and mingle in a mystical way unknown to man. whatever it is, it flows through me and leaves my fingertips. and now as my eyes waver back and forth with paltry demands of the flesh and my eyelids dip down, i hope that maybe a little droplet from my fingers can reach You through the storm. maybe it will awake something in You.

She walked into the room. It was a special room. It was the room where she had first experienced her husband. It was the room where their children had been created. When he got his big promotion, it was in this room she had put on her blush and the backless dressed that he liked so much. She hallowed this room more than any other in the house, because it was here that they slept side by side every night.
He was laying on the bed with his laptop as he often did. She was especially happy and emotional now, just having seen an especially funny romantic-comedy with the kids. She jumped on the bed and slid up close to him.
“Watcha do…”
She said and trailed off as she saw the computer screen. She had heard of ‘hardcore,’ but had never really seen it. She just stared as he frantically pushed ctrl-F4 over and over. She ripped away from him. Her body didn’t move an inch but there was a part of her that she ripped away from him. She never knew what she did it, but it was never there again.
“Honey, I was doing the taxes and this site just… I know this looks really bad but…”
She did say anything. She didn’t move. Tears started to roll down her face even though her expression was fixed as if it had been cast in concrete. Her mind was completely empty for a second, and then memories and thoughts came flooding in. There was one theme under them all, but she couldn’t make it out. If she could hear it through the torrent of thought, she would hear the exact same thing that was screaming out at him from her eyes.
I am not good enough. That is what he really want. I am shit.

She was ruthless. never giving an inch. her daughter meant more to her than the world but she had to hide that behind fanatic devotion for the greater good. she would not let anything or anyone get in the way. she walked along the row of deep tubs each containing water and a body that still pulsed with life. she stopped next to each one and looked at the specimen. he was shivering. "dunk" she said in a cold voice. he went under and the timer started. as the submerged body looked weightless for those few seconds she gave a little nod to the aid next her and he made a little mark on the clip board. 5 seconds later his head appeared again above the surface. she didn't say anything. she didn't even look into the dripping face of anxiety that implored her for a sign acceptance. she just moved to her right and repeated the cold command. this time she said, "shoot it." and the pen scratched again. as the man came up the woman in the tank next to him started crying and shouted "they are going to shoot you Dimitri." she whiled on the woman pulling out a Ruger and screamed "SILENCE." there was no more sound. the sploshing sound of a head dipping below the surface of water sounded 12 more times in the big warehouse.
"dunk...i said dunk"
"hold on. sorry i am just a bit nervous about water... Tanya."
"DUNK"
when he was under the water she said, "fry it" and the pen scratched. she knew him. she had just recognized him when he had used her old name. he had been a student of hers before the revolution. she looked at him when he came up.
"don't know me?"
she didn't say anything. she just took his hand that was clinging to the side of the tub and pressed its open palm on a frying pan. that she picked up off the floor. he trembled and started babbling nervously.
"but you taught me. don't you remember that? when i was in secondary school in Kiev. i... but"
she was stone faced. he scrabbled out of the tub dripping.
"think of your daughter. i have a present for her. i am working for the greater good. i have gifts for all the old people in the neighborhood. if they will give me back my satchel i will show you. i have a stuffed animal for her"
he had been walking toward to large doors that were open and letting in the chilly air. two large guards AKS-74's stepped in between him and the door. he looked back at her desperately with a look of unbelief on his face.
"but you said..."
she shook her head. the guards thrust him back into the tub. he began to weep as she walked out of building, past the burial pit, and out of the camp. they would never get her daughter. never.