There is no daylight here, only perpetual night that has me hanging by my fingertips.
Hoping for a sign.
A sign that my field of dreams isn’t a hallucination driving me against the razor’s edge.
Needling me, picking away at a scab that just won’t heal.
A smile. That’s not too much to ask for, is it?
There's a scratching at my door. I don't want to let him in, but the sound is persistent. Unnerving and a little more than an irritation. It can't hurt to just open it a crack. Can it?
The crack widens, expands and envelops. Completely. Inside and out.
Tentacles reaching outward, and a star is gone.
Did it exist?
Was it only my imagination?
A rambling fairytale whispered in the middle of the night.
Make believe that became solid for a moment only to blister and shatter once I woke.
Can I get a hell yeah?! Hold the mayo please.
This was a whispering child, screaming, bleeding inside. No amount of begging can return me to the good old days of ignorance and theory, of burying myself, hiding, from grief.
The current is almost gone, and the end is crystal. All I can do is hold onto hope and maybe - just once - these yellow bricks aren't a wall to break myself upon. Yellow is gold don't ya know.
Air alight with color, and I watch as blue breaks apart against gravitational fields, reforms and purity dispersed. A girl with red spirals ripped to shreds by the hound from hell while screams of triumph filled the air. A gray chair, metal cold, spins on its axis, empty and unknown.
If only within just a fragment in time…
My fingers ach and the edge is growing sharper. Blood of the sacrificed covering me, my soul. For nothing more than glory I never sought.
All I want is to let go. To be surrounded, absorbed completely, but there are some sacrifices I just – can’t – make. They will fall if I loosen my fingers. Fall and break into a million pieces.
Taken in and taught the new rules of life.
Taken in and taught the meaning of cruelty.
Live another day.
Taken in and taught the meaning of love.
One is two and the math got thrown out the window.
There is no equal.
Taken in and taught the meaning of patience and the fine art of terrorism.
Lastly the lessons are unjust. A brother gone, black staining stardust for eternity. His memorial lighting a stranger’s path. Can I – should I sacrifice the child for the lives of millions? Will I sacrifice the love of one for the scorn of multitudes?
Beg me. Plead for mercy at the flutter of a bird’s wing, a passing thought drawn into an open mouth of fire. What has to be done – is. There is no such thing as mercy if you cannot learn.
Better hurry, my grip is slipping. Choose now, or forever hold your peace.