a century in a second
the sort of blue that promises silence.
your stare scared me at first. there was something so honest about it. i wasn't used to that sort of honesty. it had been a long winter.
my own eyes had experienced a lot of tears. warm and salty, falling onto a cold floor. i was tired, so tired.
but you managed to save me.
it couldn't have been anyone, it had to be you. the right place, the right time. it could have never happened.
i know that this won't last forever.
but maybe it will last for a little while.
there's a strange expression on your face. a shadow. a collection of thoughts, turned into paint.
i know what you're considering. something that was sleeping for a long time is now awake.
one decision, that's all it seems to be. it might not matter.
you've been waiting for too long. the silence is killing you. the missed calls, the empty house.
it'll be okay. take a deep breath. it'll all be over soon.
become like me.
i have been dead
for a very long time.
it's so cold, too cold.
the air is quiet, my thoughts are loud.
ashes and flame, all at once.
i want to live again
to forget the permanence of death-
i wanted freedom
but not like this.
too little, too much
a terrible flower has come into bloom.
five senses was never enough- images, sounds, colors, things even beyond that. television static, explosions of light. fingers pressing against my back, streams and rivers of sensation.
i try to sift through the words, but there are too many of them. they melt together, a horrible stream of black and white ink, misshapen letters.
i'm on an island in the middle of the sea. water, water, everywhere. i could drink it all and still remain thirsty. it's trying to drown me, to steal away the few breaths that can still emerge past my lips.
sometimes i can picture a single image, a single experience. something that belonged to someone else, now mine.
a whisper, a scream. shadows on the wall. windows filled with broken glass.
a field scattered with flowers, pale petals beginning to waste away. wooden structures, built up just to fall down again.
alone in the darkness. fiery stars and dying planets. endless time, stretched out eternally. unbreakable.
now i'm alone too.
the pressure is building. more thoughts, more feelings. nothing. everything.
it was beautiful while it lasted.
maybe just maybe
I'm not sure, I may be telling myself a sweet, beautiful lie- it's happened before, but not like this; it's scaring me, but I want to give in- I want to do this all for you, I know you're worth it and this may never happen again; I have to confess, tell the truth, let you know about what's either a marvel or a monster growing inside of me- perhaps, just maybe, there's the littlest chance that you're drowning in the same thing that I am.
(I love you.)
the gaps in between.
a field covered in snow
with a solitary red dot
bleeding crimson ink
tears lead to deserts
silence causes a hurricane
where has the past gone
lantern light extinguished
stumbling in the dark
falling through the floor
searching for sanity
as it all unwinds
b a s
i can see the outline of your face
in the frosted reflection
of a cracked mirror~
e x p a n d i n g
in the depths of
from the start
attempting to fix
what is already gone.
weaving your way
songs of sorrow.
picked up and carried away
to somewhere else
the dying grass
of the winter to come.
screeches and groans and the echoing sound of skittering claws.
my stomach twists. the night is dark, so dark. my parent's room is just down the hall, yet it seems miles away. and i doesn't dare to leave the bed- the monster might get me.
i can't pinpoint exactly where the noises are coming from, they're too chaotic, too overwhelming. but my guess is that the monster is under my bed. right where it can get to me.
a roar, and the frame of my bed rattles, nearly tossing me off. i grip the sheets until my hands turn white. i look from side to side, watching the wall, my eyes tracing the floor.
all of my stuffed animals are on my bookshelf, they can't protect me from there. all i can do is wait and hope that the scary noises will go away, that the monster won't kill me.
i want to have tomorrow.
minutes tick by, the red of my clock burning into my eyes.
the sounds go quiet.
legs trembling, i crawl out of bed. the silence, it hangs like a heavy fog. i stand by my bed, not moving.
the tension inside of me snaps, and i get down and look under my bed. there's nothing there, only a gap that shows the bottom of my bookshelf on the other side.
peace fills me. things will be okay.
and then there's one last sound.
the creak of the closet door opening.
about to boil over
almost to the edge
but not quite~
a peaceful front
chaos in the background
possibilities are just
unspooling a ticker tape of memories
that will soon be erased