the wolves whisper their dreams into the night sky, they roam the land in search of time. the moon is full, vibrating white electricity, making each coat of fur metallic and bright. the wind dances in delight, knowing what mysteries are held for this night. the majestic wolves hear a sweet melody in the distance, together they run, step for step, beat to beat they climb. they continue to speak to the sky, beautiful poems they write to the moon. there is no alpha, just one and one, an unspoken promise that is said and done, knowing they are gods of each other, they run side by side, still worshiping the ground as they move. the stream bubbles with expectant excitement, feeling the earths music through each drop. he ***** his head to the side, listening to each sprinkle of magic flowing around him. he looks at her, so beautiful, more so than a diamond, more so than a ruby, even better than gold, his soul speaks to her soul. his breath is dependent on hers, his blood flows for her. they continue their trek, through the calming hills. she would never leave him, he is her essence, together they follow the sound of life. aware of the nearness of each other, aware of the flow of energy between them, they carry forth. nearer, and nearer they come, the sounds slow as they speak another poem, to the moon, to each other and in reply to earths' song. together they come upon a wide open land, they are wrapped in the moons glow, the streams excitement, and the mountains peaceful hue. she tilts to him, and bows to her king, the pounding in her heart matches his. he bows too, ready for her hand, ready to begin, ready for forever;where they will roam their peace filled meadow of love, life and the music of eachother.

Look at my eyeliner, one wing still there from the night previous. The clothes I wear are the first clothes I grabbed from the pile on the floor yesterday. I'm really, really, very good at forgetting to take my medicine.

My only friend, a 11.2 lb. Mutt is more than happy to snuggle with me through the days, sleeping in is now my medicine. "You do it to yourself." they say. Not today, please, not today.

Another job that "didn't work out". Whatever, as long as I don't have to leave, outside is so ******* loud. I swear I tried, and I worked so hard, I always do. Still, I'll stumble through time, not unlike everyone else, the crowds of people all unknowingly living on a shelf. The judgments pass on, as does the ticking, and it all comes back around next time with even more kicking. "YOU DO IT TO YOURSELF!"

At night is when the real fun begins, I get to cry, and hug myself, and say its going to be better. One more day. That's it. I'll give it one more day. As for the night, well the mysteries know no bounds, the crickets shall chirp me on as the stars part the clouds. I can finally scream and curse the world silently. Maybe night will come quick, like a thief or death... Ah, wish-filled thinking, I really should take my medicine.

Don't think I'm not hopeful; on the contrary I feel as if I am quite hope-filled, even extremely optimistic. Not today though, today I take the only medicine I can, and crave; sleep. One day at a time, that hope of dying young haunts me. Still I imagine a world with my very own family and a home. Realistic Hallucinations if you would ask someone well studied in the field of psychotherapy; I've got to find that medication.

My pain digs in, begging me to play, not today, please, I beg not today. My blankets are warm, my eyes don't wish to open, my bestfriend is yawning softly, as he scoots closer to me. Maybe I'll fall into a wonderful hope filled slumber, the dreams aren't worse than the living.

Might as well, I doubt if I will ever take that ******* medicine.

How many
mirrors
Must I have shatterd

           How many
           times did I
           Cross under
            the ladder

Why did
the black
cat choose me
to intersect

            I can't believe
            I put the
            Noose around
            my neck

I shouted please,
Begged and cried

            One-hundred
            times I lived,
            One-hundred
            times I died;

Because I was
the mirror,
The shattering
glass

            I became the
            ladder,
            Made of steel
            and brass

I befriended the cat,
And sealed my fate

            And as for
            the rope,
            I always
            knew,
            it could
            never
            hold the
            weight.