And So

If I cannot be a pretty and delicate bird
Then I will be a tough and fierce wolf

If others cannot admire my graceful wings and bright colors
Then they will fear my sharp teeth and wicked claws

If I cannot fly up
Then I will run forward

And never ever stop

Waiting for Nothing

When I was a little girl
I thought life was sweet
When I was a little girl
I thought love was real

Now I think I know

That nothing ever lasts
And now I can recall
I used to be happy, long ago

But that time is far over
My summer days have waned
And where I once shouted out
Purely in my joy and laughter

That’s all over now
That’s all over now

I used to dream of a different time
But it never came
Success, fame, and riches would happen
Because they were something I deserved

Now I know there’s nothing
The future is here and it’s bleak
Once I looked forward to tomorrow
Instead, now I’m just clutching my sheets

What happened to me?
Where did I go?
Who am I now?
I’m lost without my dreams

Time

Butter-grease yellow in old

Age we sit, toothless and bald.

Our bones make a nice baby rattle,

Craggy hands swinging on Death’s

Mobile. The rust-red nightlight

Shining bright.

Beware not the end.

            the beginning.

Satisfaction

It is not painful
The knife sliding through my ribs
As you smile softly

Refuse to Regret

No time for goodbyes
No time for that last moment
The world is at an end

And it’s raining
Yes, it’s pouring down now

No time for final wishes

No peace is to be found here
No last, tender kiss

I think I’m going to die soon and I love you
I think I want all the rest of my moments to be with you
I push you away because I don’t want to hurt you
But I need you here so I can picture your face in these final seconds

I think you should know that I love you
More than I ever dreamed was possible
I think you should know that I waited all my life 
For you

And then I found you
A week before I’ll die
And it was worth the wait

Thank you for giving me this time
With you

Untitled Prologue

August 15^th – year and place unknown

---

I’m sorry. I’m so sorry that I could choke. I am choking, spitting colorless bile into the cup of stagnant water sitting next to me on the polished end table. The two mix, and I know with a sudden clarity that nothing will ever separate them again. 

You knew. You always knew what was going on in my mind, even when that insight was the last thing I wanted. No, particularly when it was least desired. But really, you shouldn’t have interfered. I told you not to, but you’ve never listened to me. Still, I am truly sorry for what has happened between us, for the brash and truthful words said, words so full of venom they dripped acid on their way from my mouth to you, your mouth to me, leaking into the carpet and soaking the house with enough poison to rot the walls from the inside out and leave the shell of a festering corpse in their wake. I would have liked this to have ended differently. Indeed, out of anyone in the world, you are the one person who knew me best. We could have had a future together, could have been happy in our simplicity and ignorance. 

No, I’m lying. I could never have lived that way. Neither could you, I know. I could read your mind as well. That’s how I knew you would be here today. I knew you couldn’t stay away. I couldn’t let you do it though, couldn’t let you interfere. I’m sorry, my beloved, but really, once you learned her secret, you should have known that you had to die. I just don’t think either of us realized that I would be the one to kill you.

Everything’s all right now. It’s already happened. Sometimes, the past truly does override all, even the future. There’s no undoing it now, and really, I’ve never felt so at peace. Now that you’re gone, I never have to worry about her again.

Yet, now I find that I cannot live without you. It’s funny, isn’t it? It should be. I thought that slicing into the visible, vulnerable, viridian veins of my wrists would be easier than this, but the knife isn’t as sharp as it could be. There, it finally goes - the blood. I’ve always felt vaguely sick whenever I was bleeding from a large wound, but this pain is too sharp, too intense for me to feel queasy. I suppose I should be thankful for small favors. 

I hear laughter. Is that me? I sound like a demented man past his endurance. All that’s missing is a background whirl of machinery, booming thunder and flashing lightning, and- 

Oh, wait, that’s not me after all. It’s you.

There is a Cost in the Knowing

It aches sometimes.

(This is a lie; it aches all the time.)

The sad thing about being told to pursue your dream is that, most of the time, our dream fall flat before our feet as we slowly begin to learn our own limitations. I’ve had many dreams over the years. Some were entirely outrageous, and I knew so, even if it was only a little voice in the back of my head acknowledging that my flight of fancy was just that: unrealistic imaginings.

But then there were those dreams that evolved with me, with who I gradually became as an individual. Those dreams were an integral part of me, because I grew around their shapes and shadows. If I’d never had those dreams, I would not have pushed myself in the ways that I did, my branches wouldn’t have twisted into their own unique form.

Once those dreams all died, one by one, so too did my shape. Until all that was left was a dry, empty husk, my trunk charred, the smoke still rising from the burnt ashes enclosing me on all sides.

The thing is, those few who are molded by their dreams and go on to achieve them are full of branches that are lush, thick, full of wick. While I remember the magic garden of my childhood, where all my dreams were planted in an orderly row, others continue to carefully prune and pluck and sow all their lives.

I don’t have that option.

This is a difficult reality to come to terms with. I’m not saying that I am done growing as a person. Far from it. I believe that we evolve each day, hour, and minute until our lives expire. Maybe someday in the future my tree will have lovely vines wrapped around the trunk. Maybe from the ashes of my branches a green moss will grow. But vines are a parasite, and moss a fungus, and I will always miss those branches that were my own, not thankful for a symbiotic relationship that grew out of the ashes of my defeat.

I know my own limitations. I know the heights and depths of my own soul. It is not pretty. Nor is it ugly. It is special, and wonderful, but it is limited. I know who and what I am, and what I am capable of, and I know now what my true dream is. The final dream, the one that you discover has been there all along, and you will never want to do or be anything else. It is the absolute centre of my soul, and utterly unattainable.

Ashes spread at my feet.

Yes, it is a specific sort of despair to know that who you were born to become is forever out of reach.

The Mirror

No heartbeat, no breath. But still, something stirs, is alive. Shadows mate with shadows to form what lies on the edge of nightmares. This fledgling is like all children and tests its boundaries, stretching and molding its own shape through time. No thoughts, no voice. But still, it speaks, opens its mind to each new experience, to the glimpses of freedom. Gradually, want begins to stir, true desire, and what does one desire most but something just beyond one’s grasp?

Know that when you stare into the darkness, it looks back. And it’s hungry.

Keep Falling

Every raindrop is unique
A single note from a song
That rings in perfect harmony

Forever

I suck, it’ll never happen
Quit now, go down in flames
I’m tired, ‘cause I’ve never really tried
Not ever

Run, run, run, run

Fast as I can, pick up my feet
Run, run, run, run
‘Till I burn out, won’t be long now

Dreams and hopes and wants and wishes
Sprinkle fairy dust, watch it disappear
All ambition and no drive, so smart
But I’ve never lived a day of my life

Run, run, run, run
Give me some space, I need to blame someone
Run, run, run, run
No smacking me down, ‘cause I’m already crawlin’

Regret all my life that I didn’t stumble
‘Cause there’s nowhere to trip me on this flat, barren plain
Think I’m the best, think I’m the greatest
And ignore the desperate screaming inside my head

It’s so loud!
No, no

Run, run, run, run
Fast as I can, pick up my feet
Run, run, run, run
No smacking me down ‘cause I’m already crawlin’

Run, run, run, run
Life is a joke, but there’s nobody laughing
I’ve been so damn afraid
That I’ve never done anything

Not once in my life
Not once in my life

Until now

Falkor's Luck

To those who are lucky enough for old age to have come upon them (slowly, and yet also in the blink of an eye), do you remember being young? Thinking that you had all the time in the world to accomplish your dreams and seek out the mysteries of life. What is it like? To know, without a shadow of a doubt, that you have come to the end of your life. Are you tired of living? Do you want more time?

How will I feel if I am ever lucky enough to see the ruins of our time?

Pretty Poison

The dog starts barking
And the wolf howls back
Winter has come at last

Fly free, little bird. 

Soar away to the land
Where snow never falls

But while you sing, beware

Of false promises from the
Man just behind the curtain