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THE SHANE CLEMMENS SHOW
"Reincarnation"

Sinners cannot exist without the Gods whose rules they wish to break.  I find myself in my room.  I pinch myself to make sure it's all real...  It's so familiar... 

You lose yourself and someone else. They're gone forever and they took a piece of you with them. Silly boy, the piece never belonged to you—Damn you. The "you" in them was merely a reflection. This reflection was stolen by the night. There is no one else to blame but you.

The alarm clock's calling out to me but I'm not answering. I'm sulking in my bed.

There's a hole inside you and it's not going to be filled. You gag against stiff drinks and you choke on smoke to kill it. It won't die. It can't be sealed up. You can't hide it either. Everyone can see it. Nobody comments on it.

I tell the alarm clock to fuck itself and throw it off the night stand. I don't care how many pieces it shatters into. I only hope I don't step on it later.

Nobody can fix what you've done to yourself. Dig in. You've shot yourself in the foot. Imbedded amongst pitch black—you sit. You sigh. You're drowning in turmoil. The lights don't shine the same. Your heart doesn't beat the same. You were awake inside a dream. Now all you can do is sleep.

The alarm is persistent—a battery back up resurrection. It squawks. I tempt fate and get out of bed. I remove the battery and reestablish silence. I turn to my bed—it has lost its promise. I don't want anything to do with it.

The taste on my lips is a bitter one. The insides of my eyelids hide the magnitude of the situation. Silly boy.

Dark caresses in ways the light can't comprehend. In the darkness hidden demons come out knowing they won't be seen. Silence is a friend when you can't muster a scream. You push and push but you've used up the desperate tone. The agony is realized in the arms of another. You take a break and close your eyes. Who you were battles with what you've become. You open your eyes but can't recognize who you see.

Beside my bed is a gun. The .357 Magnum. The light of the rising sun gleams off the barrel until I shut it out with black curtains. I sit down upon my broken bed and open the cylinder. One round sits in its place. The first one to the right. The magic bullet. I pull it out and set it on my nightstand.

I whisper: There will be no murmurs. No alarms. Just release.

You'd savor the taste of being broken if you could stomach it. Your reflex is to gag against it. You want to push it up. You don't want it to settle. It will over come you. You gag against a void. There's no sweeter sensation.

The day before me doesn't ask too much. I ask too much of it. I try to fit a million moments into one. I try to prologue it. I don't fear it ending. I fear that there will always be a tomorrow.

I tell myself: Shane, don't give a fuck about tomorrow. Don't even give a fuck about today. Give a fuck about the fight. Don't give in. You haven't laughed enough. You haven't loved.

I stand up and scream: I want to love you!

I'm surrounded by memories of run-ins with inevitability. I turn and rip up my mattress and sling it across the room. I can't recognize my screams. My anger is realized in bad destructiveness.

I fall to my knees with my hands on the box springs. Lying out before me are hidden memories. One burned into my slumber. Pictures. Pictures of what could have been. Pictures of what could never be.

You're a fool. You're surrounded by your own blissful misery. You live for things corrupt and heart wrenching. You could be happy but you choose not to. You choose to fathom only that which makes you bitter. You want to be driven to the vanishing point. Your pain is your friend, but your health is your ailment. You want to feel the physical manifestations of your mental grief. You surround yourself with darkness. You let it sink in.

I fall to my side, grasping at the pictures. Each one is of you, each one is of me. I can't tell the difference. I won't cry -- I'll writhe angrily. I grasp in the darkness for my lighter. I formulate a plan in a second. I don't like what I was and hate what I've become. I light the picture on fire. I watch you and me bubble up.

Tonight a god will die and a prophecy will be complete.

You're going to be left behind and so is that piece of me. I can't have it back and I don't deserve it. I'll strive to do without it. I will lay with you in the darkness. Eventually it will all be complete.

I toss the flaming picture in the trash beside my bed. It burns out all too quickly. I gather my old clothes and the title I would indeed die for holding. I leave my room and run to the front door. I stop by a jug of gasoline. I wouldn't need it all for the Challenger.

Do you remember when we were weak? When you and I shot the moon? The nights we spent together should have been years. We should be wrapped up inside them still. Those days are gone. All I have left are the fiery pangs of loneliness. Your flames still lick my lips.

I splash gasoline on the door. I pull out a Marlboro. I look up towards the night sky and see the end of it all crashing down upon me. Falling stars or falling legends—either will do. Not even Johnny can help me now.

I want to make a monument—one in tribute to you.

I turn my head towards the heavens and exhale white smoke. I hope you can see this—wherever you are.

I'm broken in my sorrow. I'm still alone in bed. I'm pulling the sheets up, as the flames wrap around my head. It's you, this flame, burning unmercifully… I can't control it but understand it all suddenly. What we had isn't over. But the route is forever sealed off.

My heart aches as I toss the match. I watch the flames rise up.

The flames reflect in the in the jet black paint of the Challenger. My reflection is a lonely one. I run my hand down the fender and enjoy the cold shiver.

I look up at the heavens as I hear glass break from the heat. Soon the flames are rushing and howling like my heart. My steady gaze catches a glimpse of Orion through the smoke. I laugh and tell the hunter that this will be the last time.

I sit inside my car and let my head hang. My fingers fidget for a joint; I light it up.

This will help you relax. It will turn your eyes to slits. Your heart will be on 'ignore mode' and soon we'll be able to ride. I don't care if you believe this. It doesn't really matter. This is history repeating itself.

I lost who I was and turned into a monster. I never picked up a bottle. I never drowned out my sorrow. In hindsight I should have.

For now and forever, I mutter into the mirror. For now and forever I won't let it eat at me.

An explosion rings out from my house as one of the walls collapses. I smirk at myself in the mirror and reassure my ways. Gone now is the God. All that's left is a Dog.

Hate and call me names. Dumb me down for being me. Live for my end. That's what everyone else does. They don't hate. They mock love. That isn't us.

Life is supposed to be a pleasure cruise. We must not settle for less. Honestly I'm forsaken now. I don't have anything left.

I put the car in gear and spin the tires as I roll away. Ahead of me is the future. Behind me is forgotten regret.

You still live on inside me. Regardless of what's missing.

Nothing could ever take that away.

Not even a bullet.

 

DIRTY MANIFESTO
"The Sinner."

Ever since you joined Fight One you knew this was going to happen Jaxx.  You knew full well that The Dirty Dog and The Sinner were going to face off.  You knew that we were going to lock horns and you really imagined that it would all be about your talent verses mine.  You really thought this was going to be about titles, women, and glory.  You tried to stick it to me pal, I should probably thank you.  You really are the best this business has to offer aren't you?  What's that saying?

"I piss excellence."

That's so you Jaxx.  You are the culmination of so many varied types of awesome that the entire would should fall to the sinners feet and beg him for mercy and praise his greatness.  You're the be all end all guy......In a world without Shane Clemmens.

See man, I was close to hanging it up.  I wanted to walk away and I was willing to leave everything behind, including the Universal Title.  I felt that Seth Dryden could handle things but I was wrong.  He dropped the ball I strived so long to carry and now it's in danger of falling into your hands.

That's what I'm here to stop Jaxx.  You.  You are the biggest problem in Fight One Xperience and if I have to bring Shawn Walsh in to help me kick your ass along with all those idiots you associate with, so be it.  Everything begins again here Jaxx.  You and the rest of the people in Heaven 2 Hell are going to walk the same path I have and I hope for your sake you have the ability to tread where I have.

You won't survive this Jaxx because no matter what, you will be face to face with Shane Clemmens and he is going to bring you down.  That's a promise.  Let it be at Heaven 2 Hell.  Let my Heaven be your Hell...  Sinner.

Are you sad?  Sad that I didn't throw your same tricks into your face?  I'm not a child, bitch, I make adult decisions, I don't let society and Pete Ebdon make my mind up for me.  I'm not you, and you sir, are no Shane Clemmens.

You wouldn't be a Sinner if there were no Dirty Gods.  Welcome me back, bitch.  Where's my title at?
 

 

 

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