Mind expanding

For those who fib the curious soul are lost themselves and those who are lost will someday become curious.
For those who fib the angry soul are weak themselves and those who are weak will someday become angry.
For those who fib the sad soul are apathetic themselves and those who are apathetic will someday become sad.

Shadows in the City

I found my feet standing once more in this obscure city. Left here as to be placed into an unknown world, alone. Soaked by the rain I tread down the sidewalks. My coat dripping and my heels sunk deep into the puddles. I look out to the luminescent moon as the effort to find guidance becomes more and more desperate. I am to find nothing but the beauty of the night sky. I stroll pass the cafe's and other buildings that tower over me. I glance over to an old woman with a cat. She is sitting at a bus stop, and I stop to ask her where I may find a hotel for the night. She hands me a needle and thread and tells me to sew one. Assuming she had a little to much to drink I continue searching. About half a block further I realize Her cat had jumped out of her arms and begun to follow me. I had to take the cat back to her owner, so I paced back to the buss stop taunting the cat with here kitty kitty follow me. But the old lady was gone. I picked up the cat and took the next bus home. I began to hear voices screeching out I'm not to leave the city or I will die. Threatened and unsure of my sanity I sat pale white wide-eyed and confused. The cat jumped out of the window in such a terrified manner as if to have heard the voice itself. Suicidal kitty goes squash in oncoming traffic. I suddenly began noticing an advance in my aging with each block passing. The windows took my reflection with more grey hair and wrinkles. Like a curse I grew years within minutes. All I hear is voices screaming get off the bus. Needless to say I got off at the next stop. I sat under the shade of the bus stop cold and alone. The rain is still pouring and I'm curious where that old woman had gone. Looking out at passing cars My eyes were soon drawn to a shadowed figure walking slowly between the fast cars and lights of the city. He approaches only for his own intentions. He hands me a cat. And as to provoke complete confusion of the situation upon me, he does not speak. Whatever maybe possessing me is manipulating me not to know of its kind. How can anybody have the audacity to do what they know they are not so permitted. Like a leash on a dog, you are tangled in your own fear and panic of being stuck where you are forever. Tangled up so terrified so anxious as if to run out and choke yourself with your own caller. What shall I name this rebirth of the old lady's cat so mysteriously given to me so meticulously placed as premeditated as murder. Phantom kitty. And with each step this shadowed man took away from me he brought back my youth. I was myself again sitting at a bus stop in this obscure city. Weightlessness i felt as the curse let me back on my feet. As if to say that valiant figured man had cured me. I felt aroused by the simplicity of self confidence. As the next bus pulls forth the door slides open and the breaks release pressure hissing a strong wind. Just then I heard a taunting here kitty kitty, come here baby... and the cat jumped off my lap so quick and harsh scratching my chest to bleed. I looked over and took glance of an old woman. The one and only Old woman I set her needle and thread on the bench behind me and get on the bus out of town. Home welcomes me, but it does not recognize who I am. So old and grey.

Faceless Angels

Faceless angels await your gravel for they plan to sow their seeds within you. Long white gowns in an empty meadow beneath the trees of black silhouette all dark but the apple blossoms on the trees above them. They stand tall with long hair blowing agile in the wind. The moon is bright and the stars are dim. I stand flawless awaiting the very presence of these blessed souls to pass through my body. The weightless feeling to be carried away off your feet so gentle and swift. So thrust through my body and take me away. Waiting I sit on this cold bench on the path between the trees watching the fallen leaves tumble in the dirt around me. What lays beneath the wind so quiet and alone? So afraid to show itself it hides beneath the visible. What a strange find to see the unknown and the insecurities of others, so oblivious to the mask they wear. They walk so slowly and pure like everything that once was. Time is never a factor, so ageless and defined. Their eyes glow in the depths of these trees and they sing calm hymns of sweet innocence.

Heres to never saying goodbye

what separates the naive and wise is very bold and blunt, although the wise are smarter and more knowledgeable, the naive are more open minded and less paranoid the world will someday swallow them whole. The naive and innocent have no recollection of the worst to come they are willing to face the dangers of far and near. The wise may say goodbye in case of no returning hello, the naive may never realize the simple meaning of either word. Children although incontinent will attempt what other wise people will otherwise consider impossible. They look for what is not there and don't give up because they believe. The naive are gullible and give faith into life. They have diligence, But the wise have Understanding. So heres to not saying goodbye, although rather difficult to do. Here's to giving faith that your loved ones will be near regardless of their condition and fate will pick them at the appropriate time. Heres to doing everything you have ever dreamed of regardless of the limitations you are put through and regardless of your fear of rejection from the norm. Heres to living like you dont know how to read peoples mind and facing the truth nomatter how hard it may be. Heres to asking questions and learning to live again. Like a child, naive, we will be. Like people, strong we will stay.

Into The Horizon

Into the horizon
I was standing on the shore in glance at the sun falling under the horizon. such in stare that nothing else around me felt real. the wind the sand even the birds flying above me all by machines, all fake except this big orange sun falling under the horizon. Dolphins jumping in and out at me. I am sitting in the sand, pacified by the wonders in front of me and all is quiet but what I hear. I am alone to humans, alone to humanity I am not. I am free to let my hair blow in the wind, oh the fresh tasting ocean breeze against my face and my feet in this wet sand I sit here and stare. Nothing else is thought of, nothing else was possible, nothing seemed to exist amongst me except that of this sun sinking into the ocean. and just as I hit tranquility I too seemed to disappear with my surroundings. Just as the sun vanished for the night to come, I too seemingly sunk into the ocean as I lay down. And then I was somehow transported into new lands so unknown, unconnected to wherever I came from all was forgotten for the moment I stayed in this world unknown. and I lay so small and insignificant. Then a man a stranger reached out his hand to pick me up and show me around. There were flowers sky high and birds in the trees. Life is so simple without hunger or sleeplessness. I was getting a chance at new life and so I lived here in this world unknown with this man who had never spoke of his name for years. building a house on a hill surrounded by flowers. but as I stepped through the front door of this house, the unknown world all but vanished. As I lay here in the sand I blink my eyes open again. people surround me in amazement. the Man stands beside me he hands me flowers and says Im glad you made it, lets go home.

To Pluck A dandelion

With the mystique and poise of fear itself she stood in front of that window. There is a breeze and daisy blossoms she can see but still no sign of something new.As her life goes on she will wait for one day it will cross that gate and pass her fellow fir trees. For she is strong and willing. She'll watch the flowers blow away and rain fall down from above her. She is patient like a woman awaiting a bus to come back for her desperate and alone.
I take these short stumbled steps for the sweet content of folders coffee in the morning. My footprints like the ticking of a clock, slow and old. My breath like the memory of the oceans tide crashing in and out. My hair like the clouds of a storm grey and dead. But life did not teach me this, to preach of my wrinkled face like the delicate curtains of these windows. Instead I say like the beautiful creases in a white carnation. to say that I am old and Grey is to lie and complain, for the carnation is beautiful, and beautiful I am. So I take these curtains down for they resemble me not.
The birds flutter the ponds of the sweet meadow. Like birds you will learn. life is much like fishing, fish don't just jump in your boat. You will have to wait as long as it takes you to learn to catch them. You may fish all day and not catch a thing, but that doesn't mean there is no fish to catch.
The dandelions blossom so swiftly in the spring of the meadow. They stare upon the fir trees as if to touch the tops with their eyes. So anxious to fly, so excited to grow up out of the soil they lay. but if one is to jump out so sudden as a bud it will be squashed like a bug into the midst of where it came from. Butterflies soar by the breeze that so gracefully plucks the dandelions into the air. what a wonderful world beyond these cold blank meadows that they may not yet see. so curious of what more to come they must be.
For I am what is to come, old and grey. Alone and wise I will stay. For the experience outside the meadows was least of what I expected. Its to bad for the dandilons for they are not butterflies they can never go back to the soil they lay. but complain not, for If I could do the same I wouldn't know a thing. Butterflies are simply leaves blowing in the wind. to pluck a dandelion and make a wish Id wish the same for you.

Carry Me

Carry Me

Oh what a wonderful day to have a picnic in the forest. As I lay in the shade of these tall wonders with the sun racing through the leaves and the birds swimming in the air. So bright and Breezy. Alone and at peace, nothing is to be heard but the slow tune of a flute and a harp in the wind and passing animals. And what a world to imagine the flowers with wings and faces. Like butterflies so angelic, and happy. And as I lay here under the trees, they swarm out from the shining light. All of different colors and shapes so graceful, and pure. All but one that’s dark and angry. Black and red in color and sharp spinney wings that move mechanically and robotic. All are singing and humming beautifully but this one majestic creature screaming. And all the while these beautiful fairies collect and bring me flowers; this one brings me thorns and weeds.

What could bring so much anger and madness to such a small being? Envy? Misfortune? Disadvantage? Or is it made fun of for not being beautiful? Can it be lost, or mistaken? Or just empty? Can it be that such a small creature has feelings and emotions as I do under these trees? How can something so small fit a heart as big as mine inside? I can’t possibly expect it to love or hate as strongly. For what has it to do but fly away and leave its troubles? Is it mad at me or the world, for it brings me thorns and weeds? How can something so small fit a brain as big as mine inside? I can’t expect it to know wrong from right. Perhaps this creature has it backwards and simply doesn’t know any better. Maybe it doesn’t know who to blame for its own madness in the world. How can something so small fit arms and legs as strong as mine inside? How can I expect it to know its strengths and weaknesses in this world? How is it to know its power on the world? How can something so small fit eyes as big and bright as mine inside? It must not see the world I do. I see it much much bigger than it will ever see it. Or ears as big and great hearing as I, for it is but a small creature. I cant expect it to find joy in the slow tune of the harp and flute of the forest? How can it hear itself scream or sing? How can it fit a nose to smell the flowers, or grandma’s pecan pie? How can something so small fit a mouth as loud as mine? It must not be able to speak up for what it believes in, or say what it wants.

So how can it have feelings and emotions as I do, how can something so small be so unhappy and mad? And as the others continue to bring me flowers, this lonely fairy still brings thorns and weeds. So I ask, “Why are you so sad?” It says, “I am not sad, I am unique, this is who I am.” And then without a stutter, as I glanced over at the rest of the fairies, it asked, “But how can you be so happy for you cannot fit my wings on your big and strong body and fly away from your troubles.” I said, “No silly, your wings can’t carry me from the thorns and weeds as strong and fast as my sense of wonder, sight, smell, touch, and hearing. I have the power to switch off what I don’t believe in.” Then it said, “But then how will I remain happy without your senses?” and I said, “follow me and Ill share mine with you.” I showed it the rose gardens, the blue-jays, the lakes and ducks,

The smell of freshly baked cookies, the touch of my hand in a hug, the sound of the birds like flutes and harps slowly tuning in the forest, and the feeling of laughter as it began to be happy again. Slowly its wings curved down, and its eyes went happy again. It flew away with a flower in its hand and a smile on its face. “Thank you for reminding me what I have. I’m so powerful.”

The Romance of abduction

Man has always been very lonely. Pierced behind his unsightly face and entwined between the real world and what he sees biased. Like being encased inside this world he may never touch. A glass ball he stands in, always looking out. He walks like nothing surrounds him, he feels inhuman. Man feels stray from common society he feels like he operates instead living day to day. The fact that he feels no purpose for his life is perfectly safe until he realizes it himself. His confined living habits and the undeserving people around him creates a monster. Vindictive to his own fear he feels himself accepted by such merciless feat. He is wanted once more, and he'll do whatever he must to keep his so thought loved ones. A woman is also trapped within the same confinement of the “mortal” world. She does not realize how alone she is, and how barren the world may treat her. Unlike the man, she is ignorant to her surroundings. From a distance he watches her and follows her throughout her day. He is amused by her oblivious sense of purpose. This urges his temptation of forcing her to see things his way. Man steals her from her rival town, makes her tend to his wishes in promise to keep her safe from all harm. Woman struggles to understand at first, but then finds herself falling harder for the man she knows will do anything he can to keep her. She has never known such a bond so strong as her and her stalker. He demands she quit her job and stop talking to her family. Within months she is disconnected from the outer world she used to call home. This is acceptable for her, she sees more now than she ever has. She is in love with this man. He demands her to take off her clothes in the room of a steaming shower. He walks up to her flawless natural body and gracefully presses his against her, holding her tightly as if to comfort her after a traumatic event. He gently wraps his arms around her naked body and maneuvers her into a more relaxed position. He lays beside her and gently runs his fingers through her long hair and neither of them say one word to each other all night. They sleep on the floor in the bathroom and she never felt more comfortable. She wakes up, he is making her pancakes for breakfast this excites her because he is the first person to do so. A man that watched this woman everyday to conjure his thoughts of releasing her from conformity. His purpose seemingly to harm and be feared and hated. The materials of any good society need paranoia, and fear. He fights his purpose so he can love and hold someone in his arms each night. He'll do anything to make her want it. She drags her fingers across his back and he pulls her hair back to kiss her. They press their naked bodies onto each other so hot and smooth. He says he loves her and she must never betray him. They make sweat love again and again. He makes a deal tonight. Will she be willing to give her life to be his companion? Will she loose her mortality to birth man? She agrees to anything for the man that showed her the way. They sit by an open fire and he bundles a blanket around her flesh showing body. They rest until the morning.

We Will Stand

In all tranquil state I am only a robot. I operate on movement but I feel as though I'm stone. People pass me quickly as though everyone is alone. As though hearing an unknown language, I only hear them mumble. Like time is confused to stop or go I hear the static of the awkward tensions. Im running on auto-pilot tired and alone. I have no voice only air escapes my soul except that of the voice I speak with my pen. My ink so void and my writings all just in my head. My fingers numb from the cold, touch the keys of this piano so soft. The elegant sound is eager to profess its power. The tunes of the keys play off these walls as if to silence the rest of the world and all is white and endless. My hands like spiders crawl along this instrument of releasing power. What are we to do left here with nothing but tools we know not how to use. If we cannot learn, these simple mechanics will wither and rust. Like a movement we will stand. Whatever it is our lives are set to do we will not know until we discover. So we walk, like robots tired and alone. Rain washes the leaves away and brings the rust to our motivation. This room of white hears the rain patter on the ceiling and water drips from the rain gutters by the window. Rain drops have powers too. They have the power to dissolve to be needed wherever they go. Air or water they have purpose. Each drop withholding itself from opening new doors because it gets tired of the struggle to spread out and they come to a stop and dry out. Raindrops, like spirits are free to cross any path in front of them. They love like humans, on land to be needed, and leave only until they are needed again. But they do not get to chose their destination or time of presence they may only wait and when their time comes they are told to go away. Because no one likes muddy boots and change is hard to deal with. So we walk like robots, quiet and alone where we are going nobody knows. Wet and cold, the wind blows. And we keep going. To coast in a glass bubble and watch the world pass beyond you is just to easy. Everybody is looking for the easy way out but no one is walking any faster because they need the struggle to find meaning. Listen to what you believe in and tune out everything else. Simple happiness is the most rewarding but be careful with it. When your hands grasp it close to feel its touch it disintegrates and turns to dust. Black forms around your hands. And when you try to catch the pieces it all slips through your fingers and you may do nothing but watch it blow away. All you can do when all is left behind is wait and enjoy every opportunity at hand for as long as you can without letting go. Like a movement we will stand, like robots tired and alone. In awkward tensions of the rain. Cold, we keep going. Like raindrops our happiness will wait and when their time comes they will be forced to go away.

Breathless

Breathless
Sunk in the ocean you have no eyes, mouth, or nose. You may not see, breath, speak, or smell. All you have is your ability to hear and even that is muffled by the crashing waves upon you. Your body does not fight for long because struggling only makes you weaker. You give in to the strength of the ocean and float and soar through the current. You may even pray to the moon in hopes to settle the waves long enough to bring you back to shore, but nothing will change. You hear a voice and swim towards it as if fate was playing Marco-polo. A sea lion greets you and wants to take you to the rocks. Thinking he means the rocks above water you agree to go and find yourself lost at the bottom. You open your eyes to the burning salt water, it hurts and they adjust slowly. And slowly the cloudy ocean water becomes more clear. The light of day shines through like lightning striking the coral coves around you. A crate of steel locked and bolted sits beneath you. Something about the way the light hits it makes it shine in the corner of your eye and seduces you to swim near it. “don't”, cries the sea lion, “That belongs to the shark. '' You take glance at the ocean around you. Engulfed by the flames of water you balance yourself uneasily amongst the passing life. You may only see what is gifted by the sun garring through the surface, and risk everything by the sudden chance of danger in the shadows. You grab the shinny steel box and take it into a dark hollow cove. Curiosity is drawn by its man-made feature and you bash a stone along the edge of the lid. The stone that once glowed so big and sharp. As the steel crates lid creeks open a giant squid has you in his lasso from behind. You have stolen his most precious stone and broke its glowing light. Seconds from him taking your soul you make a deal to share the steel crate. Inside the crate lays no money or other fortunes. All that rests within it is a photo of a woman and a blow up raft. You give the opened empty crate to the squid, who unknowingly excepts his fate with the shark. You take the raft and photo and rise above the waves to blow it up in effort to float back to shore. With this raft you see the beautiful woman in the photo alive and adjoining arms you ascend back to shore. You have lost your attention to the raft as you gaze into the womans eyes. She is silent and still. A shark comes up from the breaking waves and bites a hole in the raft. You reach over and grab hold of the womans body she is OK and doesn't let go of the fast bubbling holes in the leaking raft. It slows you down and creates a struggling tension between you and the strength of the current. When you get back to shore the woman is bitten and bleeding.
“If you can save me from this curse, you can keep me to love and hold. If I die I go back as a raft in a crate and you will be lost at sea once more.”

Better Things

better things
A world upside down and walking on unknown surface I sit to watch a girl between two worlds. A white cloud appears in the distant corner, like a cave she walks in. Light shines and angels fly inside this huge palace. But she is not happy. She looks up to where the flower petals fall and sees the world she may not touch. All she has is this palace and hanging chandeliers of trees and flowers which she may never reach. She cries and her tears fall down on the trees. She is lost and without wings. The wind blows and she smells the flowers and all is safe and sound. But she wants wonders natural and wild on the ground.
I ask her whats wrong and she says she knows of no danger and may fear nothing here. What is here to explore except what is behind that white door?
 but we can touch the stars, I said, Look how bright and pretty and we can sit on the moon and watch the sun follow us across the universe.
But what can we do but sit and watch the fun?
Youll find your reasons to love the sun, but you are angry
She throws a star as far as she can and it falls on this black floor in a spash and its lihgt goes out and dies.
we sit under the moon and she cries. why does god give us something to live for but tell us we cant have it until we die? like that star unable to fall to the surface until it has no sense to know where it is.
Sometimes things have to fall apart so better things can come together.

An Open Door

An open door
The sun glistens off her face, her eyes look out, so unguarded you may see inside her every thought. What will become of this she asks as you read into her. Who am I? She sits looking down at her reflection in the swimming pool. A leaf floats alone her eyes as if to cover them. One day my reflection will stop hiding from me, she thought and brushed her fingers through the water making it become more and more difficult to make out who it is looking back at her in the swimming pool. Maybe we will meet and conjoin within each other so prime to which we hold. Like a flower that took years to bloom. And what it is this I hear? the splashing water beneath me unfolds back into the reflection I refuse to see once more. She looks up, a door stands outside the house, an awkward statement of misunderstood events. Why ever would there be such a thing in the middle of the garden of which to catch my curiosity. A trap in that I fall closer and closer, I walk towards this door. She stumbles about barefoot and seemingly blind to which she steps into. She opens the door and her face reads itself out loud. But the water is to deep, how ever will I cross this to the other side? Will I ever know what is beyond the water holding me back? She goes to close the door and
notices a note upon the peek hole just look inside through this, it tells her. You will see whatever you believe is on the other side just look for yourself. The girl gets on her toes and peeps one eye through the hole, but she backs up scared and very sad. She sees nothing but black empty space, as to be blindfolded permanently from her own wonders. She picks a flower from the garden and sits by that door picking off the petals. After a long nap with the breeze in her hair she awakes. One more petal rests on the flowers stem. She plucks it off and sees that it has become a key. But to what?, she thinks. The door has no lock upon it? So what will I need a key for? She stands up slowly with the pretension of a wiser being. There is yet another note on the door, open me it tells her, but know no other door behind me goes unlocked. She stands for a moment and takes one last glance at the world around her. One day my reflection will stop hiding from me, maybe I will meet myself in this journey behind the door. She opens the door without taking one step. Water tall and full, its waves crash vertical and this woman comes forward from the water. The same woman she saw in the swimming pool that morning. She reaches her arm out towards the girl standing strong outside of the door, the sun steaming her arm into ash. Take this and go, she pushes the girl into the flowers and shuts the door. Why? The girl screams at the door, I was so close, I don't understand. The girl sits there with her velvet wrapped gift in the garden and waits expecting a note on the door. And nothing. She stares down at the shinning silver key in her hand. And rests her head in a bed of lilies. Watching the clouds roll by. I wonder what is inside this velvet gift. So important as to be the one thing that woman handed to me in her short time. The girl sits and unravels the string tied close to the package. And when the velvet falls a locket in a box with a note she sees. The note reads, I cannot cross the door and leave without the key to the other exit, I hope that one day we will meet, but until then open this locket and speak to me. The girl holds the locket in the palm of her hand and tries to open it, anxious to hear the woman once more, but it is locked. A small keyhole lays on the back of this heart shaped necklace. Can it be the lock to this key? She asks. And quickly tries to fit it through the keyhole. No such luck will she have for the key is far to big. She puts the key in her pocket and the locket around her neck. Gets up hopeful to see something through the peek hole her second try. She sees the most beautiful sight she could ever imagine. A bright purple blossoms tree stands tall with a swing beneath it. Kids are laughing and the sky is the brightest of blues. The sun shines down and birds chirp circling each other in the breeze so soft she can almost smell its sweet aroma. She is so happy she comes down off of her toes and opens the door, but again only sees black open space. So she slams the door and runs barefoot still out of the garden. She puts her feet into the pool and looks down to see the locket has grown and the woman she once saw in the pool is different. She thinks for a moment and tries the key once more. The locket opens into two mirrors inside and she is submerged into the swimming pool scared of her life. Swallowing water and scattering about in a pointless struggle to get out. She sinks to the bottom, where a woman walks along towards her. You have unlocked your heart, she says, will you give me the key, so I can escape? I will pull you out from the other side. The girl gives the woman the key and she disappears. Look for who you are within yourself alone, she hears a voice from the distance and the girl is left in dark empty space to think. And suddenly the dark nothingness is transforming piece by piece into the world she envisioned through the peek hole. The bright blossomed tree and birds were developing around her. And then a bright light emerged and a door opened. She runs towards it closer and closer as if to imagine it the woman coming back for her. She sees the woman looking around. And the girl screams to get herself out, banging of the glass walls holding her back but the woman sees nothing hears nothing and slams the door disappointed. The woman only sees black empty space. The door has darkened too on the girls side but the light shining through the keyhole, if only she had the key to opening it, she thought. The girl opens her locket but cannot see her reflection in the mirrors. She finds it strange enough and still she attempts to communicate. Open the door and reach in for me, she says to the necklace, please see me for who I am, and find yourself. She sits in this garden she imagines as the most beautiful place to be, alone. Picking flowers and laying down helpless. Starring up at the clouds soaring above her. Then a bright light shines towards her the door has opened once more and with the woman standing there on the other side lost. The girl had no other choice, she climbs out slowly through the keyhole. The glass begins to crack and she gets shoved out by raging water over her. She catches the woman in her arms and she is absorbed into her body. She awakes after a long nap in the garden. Soaked by the puddles around her. And a handful of flowers from beyond the door in her hand she stands naked and alone. But not so alone after all. She plants the flowers and shuts the door. She walks barefoot in the garden contempt with herself once more. She finds the key and locks the door.

Love Endures All Things

An abandoned home I familiarize to my childhood alone where did everyone go? I walk and the road turns to dust and the tide rolls in to swallow everything. Like a tornado the ocean comes I grab hold of a tree but I am pulled away. I can see the harsh waves crashing vigorously and strong. I see nobody only birds naive to the world outside of their own. Diving so close to the surface of what engulfs my body. I do not sink but I cannot come above. Clouds roll black and Grey and lightning guides me, though I struggle, cold and lost. Where has this world taken me too and what will be of this strangling fear. Will I drown being swallowed whole by each wave casting a shadow on my body. And when will the sky clear? I search for you out here and nothing. If you are everywhere why cant you see me now? A boat I see can it really be? Or is it an illusion a trap to waste all surviving hope? And the current pulls. I drift near this boat of splinters and weak bonds a man sits with two paddles. He reaches out to me and he is much further than I thought. I swim being tossed back further away with each coming wave crashing on me. A rope he throws out, and I grab hold tightly. He pulls me under the waves and into his boat. Can you help me hold the holes in my boat, Ill take you to shore and we will be safe. He said to me. I quickly put my fingers in the gaps and held him close, happy I cry and the boat begins to fill, no you must not cry, for this moment is ours for now and I promise is ours forever. We coast above the rocky tide pulling us roughly, wind tears holes in our sail. We have nothing to direct us but we guide each other still. Lightning strikes our paddles we have nothing to control our speed, fast our slow we keep going to what the current wants. I lean over to his chest and rest my head upon his shoulder. And all is quiet except the sound of his heart beat. “where the current takes you I hope is grand, Ill be there waiting to hold your hand, he sings to me, “but do not fear for now I must leave dont shed a tear just believe” a huge wave crashes on the boat startled I awake abruptly. Our boat is spread out in pieces throughout the sea and I am alone again, where are you? I scream out I dive under to look for you and all I see is the coral and seaweed blowing under the surface. Scared in panic I spin around searching for you and I find no sign of anyone but the birds naive to the world. If I could be a bird to coast over the swallowing pain of the ocean and look out for you I would feel your safe embrace once more and be guided my the memory of your gentle heart beat. what is this? A rope, I grab hold and begin to feel the gentle tug of your strength pulling me through and I call out to you again, where are you. An still nothing. I cry and I begin to abandon all hope, barefoot and stripped of every smile life ever gave to me all I have left is this rope, and the gentle tug of which I don't know where it is taking me. I coast and all is quiet but the sound of the thunder rolling past my body and my hair blowing in the wind heavy by the water and cold by the breeze I hold on. Suddenly I am tangled by my foot in the seaweed that once made me believe you were close still. I am strangled so tight by this plant condemning me to struggle so much harder, I begin to slip the rope. My body being pulled between to separate currents stretched weak, and helpless I am left to fight. If you are everywhere why don't you see me, pull me out and take me away. Teach me to fly like the birds and make me never go back. Why are you leaving me alone to battle this inner struggle. Waves crash harder and harder and rocks tumble down on my still body picked up by the waves and thrown at me, making me hurt and making me tired. I reach out as hard as I can towards the rope only having one more existing grasp upon it the seaweed is overcoming the ropes power and I begin to forget anything you ever were, and all is lost. The rope snaps from my fingers and I'm pulled deeper and deeper under the water by the seaweed. And then I hear a voice in my head. No one can make me fly away and never return but they can give me the strength to make it through all endurances. I turn to the seaweed and pull my leg loose from its strong hold on me and swim as fast as I can towards the other direction, against the current and racing time I push forward, cold but not alone. Swimming harder and harder faster and stronger I realize I am not alone and find the rope once more. I wash up on shore. Barefoot I get up and walk dazed by the dark cloudy night. I walk and look out for you and all I find is a boat. Can it really be? Or is this a trap to waste all surviving hope. I run out towards this boat and inside I find you resting, I walk away to find you flowers to rest on your body and awake you. A rope in your hand I smile, this moment is ours forever, you smile back and reach your arms out to me. The clouds begin to blow away and the rain stops washing my tears. The moon shows and the stars are so bright. The stars once shy to our presence now very proud and comforting. I rest my head on your shoulder and listen to your heartbeat and you sing to me once more as you brush your fingers through my hair. Wherever the current takes you I hope is grand, Ill be there waiting to hold your hand, he sings to me, never crave to be a bird, for birds are to naive I will always love you just be in this moment and never leave. Invisible to the naked eye, conformity has never been so simple. Only when it is touched by the hand of its partner will it awaken and reveal itself. The one who will bring out everything nobody knows. Just to stop them from denying its existence. To pretend as something shy so small it will hide itself until that day someone will notice. It is not by my fear that I love you, its because you bring out the best in me and make me find the strength to carry on. I am sorry it took me this long to see you standing in front of me. I feel as though you have been here my entire life but I never saw you in the picture. I am prepared to go through all endurances to hold your hand through it all. For this moment is ours for now, and I promise is ours forever.

Roses

ROSES

There she stood four feet tall in white stockings and a brilliant spring dress to pick the wildflowers from the yard and shelter their stems in her small delicate hands. She would water the blooms and buds everyday and keep them safe, just to see them open up to her one day. Everyday looking for all the more wild flowers to pick. Trying so hard, as to impress another young miss with her vibrant collection. Playing dress up was a common routine of coarse for her, as well as those dear long conversations with her closest friend that only she could see. She would sit by her flowers each day and look out the windows, watch the birds sing and the wind crash on the trees so fragile from the cold winter. One day she opened those windows to feel the gentle breeze whistle through the screening and hear the birds sing. And the wind blew her flowers to the floor, shattered her vase and her beautiful flowers died. Will she have to start again, or move on to something more. She sat and watched the birds out of the window like it was their fault the wind blows so suddenly. Started blaming the simple things that once made her happy. And out of that window she seen another little girl walk down the street with the finest roses you'd ever see. And she thought to herself, well where did she get those, all I can see are thorny wildflowers. And so she blamed her soil, her sun, and the water she lay upon her flowers. And when that didn't bring from the soil the most elegant soft flowers, She blamed herself for her small hands and began to get very frustrated. She tried everything from more water to less water trying to get the beautiful roses to grow in her yard. And with each day passing someone new would pass the street and shed sit and stare out those windows once more. One day while she was out picking her wildflowers to vase again, a young boy walked up with his hands crossed behind his back. “Well, what a fine collection you have there”,” how did you get such flowers to grow?” he asked her. “You wouldn't understand,”the little girl said with frustration at heart. And although this girl seemed all the least bit interested in what this boy had to say, he stayed with her. “I just cant seem to grow anything else”, she said. And the boy brought out his arms full of the most beautiful intricate roses and lilies of all sorts. “Awww those are so beautiful”, the girl says to the young boy. And he says, “You can have them if you wish, plant them gently and they will grow. And so for weeks she tended to these roses and all the while forgot about her wildflowers. She had the most beautiful garden of roses and lilies and colors of red, yellow, and even purple. She went inside to shut her windows for the birds have all flown away now. And then the violent storm hit once more, uprooted her entire garden and she began to question what she was doing wrong. All she had left were those few wildflowers she had previously put in the vase. She had to plant them all over again, and so she sat and watched out her window. Tending to her old wildflowers until the boy came back one day. This time with his hands empty and fallow. “Will you help me, I see the storm has taken your flowers too.” the young boy asks her. And she said, “I don't understand why this has to happen when across the street the sun shines everyday and the storm never comes, what brings it here, to us?” And the boy says, “I'm not sure, but maybe we'll make it out of the storm better next time if were together.” And the boy shows the girl an empty spot across the street and says, “come with me, and well start over together, your roses will still grow.” “I will keep you safe from the stormy weather coming, all you have to do is stay.”and when they got across that road so old and broken, they look back and cant see any flowers not one tiny wildflower bud in the space behind them. And so they plant and take care of the most beautiful flowers on the street, and wind gets in their way no longer. She looks out these windows and is thankful for the wind and birds again, and looks up to this boy who once gave her roses

The Essence of Nothingness

By The Essence of Nothingness

It is a rather peculiar house. It isn't like any other ones on the block, because you see, this house has the essence of nothingness, a certain emptiness that puts chills throughout your whole body. And every time you so much as walk by it, you feel as if something, for that time, is following and watching you, and in some cases even holding you down or attacking you. I have been past this house before, I live right across the street from it. I watch it, observe it, try to understand it, it more or less consumes my every thought and feeling, the aspiration to rid my curiosity. It has pale grey walls, three stories tall. It has a balcony that peaks over the first floor from the second story. A very old and wretched balcony with squeaky wood railing and a ripped up floor, as if somebody fell through it. The third floor has peaked tops, and the end of a fireplace vent lurking over the house. Boarded up windows, and padlocks on all the doors, nobody goes in or out for that matter. Though it is the middle of spring and everything else in the neighborhood is live with color, and light, the yard to this particular house is all dead and dark.

Not a single life dares to live on the property of this house. I'm just daring enough to wonder what might have happened to this old house. So empty and left behind. Everyday I take my binoculars upstairs and stare at this house, this place for hours, as if maybe someday I'd find something new about it. I don't like to keep secrets, I don't like secrets to be kept from me. My telephone, and my doorbell have been ringing more often lately, neighbors are constantly trying to check up on me.

In the past few days I haven't seen much, but for some odd reason the fireplace was smoking the other day, somebody had to be in that house at one point, but I never once took my eyes off of it, and I never seen anybody go in. Today when I looked at the house once more through my binoculars it felt like somebody was staring at me from the bedroom door front. I'm going to check it out, I'll just have to wait for morning.

Today I put forth the most daring inquisition of my entire life. I stepped foot past the sidewalk and into the front yard of the house. Left right, Left right, each step getting heavier. Soon I fall to my knees crawling, and then dragging myself by my fingers in the dirt. Crying what have I got myself into. All I can think of is what if. What if, I can never go back to who I was. But who was I to base curiosity on a broken home, ruined house? Still heavier, seemingly further from the house with every drag and pull of my body in the dirt, completely flat and laid out, I continue. Just then everything let me go, I was able to get back on my knees and then stand up. I blinked my eyes and just like that, there stood the house. Doors still padlocked, windows still boarded. I stepped up on the porch and rang the door bell, nobody came to the door, not a sound of movement. I waited, sitting on a chair that looked like its been there forever, looking back at my house. I rang the bell again and again, waiting. Patiently for somebody to open the door. I sat back down and looked more at my house, nobody around.

Hours pass, and I was still just sitting there watching my house. I seen something of a shadow through the window on the second floor of my house looking back at me with binoculars, I didn't think much of it at the time, I thought I was just seeing things. I got tired of sitting there, that's not what I struggled to get to. I broke into the front door, using the chair as a ram. I don't think I caught the attention of my neighbors fortunately. They would just report a break in.

As I began to walk in, it was dark from not having any windows, and none of the lights were on. I just kept walking. This house was huge, but so empty. I stumbled on a severed plank in the floor. I was to busy to wonder why it was higher then the other ones though, I felt so much like someone was there watching me, and they didn't want me there, I was in a hurry to get out. It was really cold in that house so I started the fireplace. The light from the fire showed the rest of the entire first floor, all just one room. That is except for a half wall that stood in the far east corner. I looked over the wall and saw a spiraling staircase going down so deep, which was strange because I was already on what was the bottom floor from outside. I started going down the staircase, but something suddenly pushed on my weight and I couldn't carry myself any more. Just as I began to think I was stuck I felt pushed down the rest of the stairs. At the bottom of the stair case, as I barely walked nearly unconscious and bleeding from the head, I saw yet more darkness. I wasn't even sure I was at the bottom, I couldn't see anything, but I felt like I had fell long enough. But then a spotlight hit me and somebody asked who I was. I didn't reply. But later they came down the stairs, and it felt as if something stabbed me in the gut.

Moments later I woke up and deciding I've been through enough, I returned home. I noticed that my door had been broken into, everything around me was so dead-like, and when I turned to look at that old house one last time, there was nothing to be found but an empty lot. I looked around some more and soon realized that I was all alone. Nobody lived within miles of my home and I didn't even have a telephone line, just an unplugged phone setting on my corner desk. I seen blood pools everywhere. I thought somebody else was dying in my home, so I looked everywhere on the second floor seeing a shadow of a man in the bedroom with binoculars, and then all of the first floor, and then I walked over to the single staircase, that goes into my basement, and looked down. There was another person, but just lying there. I shined a flashlight on them and asked, "who's there?" and when they didn't answer, I went down the stairs and found it to be myself, dead. I looked to my hands, they were the only blood covered part of my body, and beside me lied a knife. My gut started bleeding once more. And I fell slowly to my knees as if something was holding or pushing me down, then flat on the floor. I'm just a ghost now. According to the mirrors that no longer show my face. I killed myself in the dark emptiness of nothing but me. I haunt myself everyday, but who am I to judge a broken home, a ruined house by the slander of your absence.