I feel my heart pumping slower.
As I slowly cry to my slumber.
Maybe I wasn't good enough.
I'm a bad person, I suppose.

The feeling in my heart.
I can only describe it as "hurt".
But it wasn't just anything ordinary.
That even my best friend hates me.

Enough is never enough.
Never soft or tough.
Yes, he was just a gecko at sense.
But he is also a living essence.

A speckle of light in the dark
a thought, or is it a feeling?
I approach it cautiously,
protective gloves, sterilized tweezers, chemical test kits
Douse the specimen in iodine, apply indicators,
flatten, view under a microscope, put the images through filters,
Compare and contrast with previous samples.
I strain myself to determine its nature most accurately.

Is this feeling irrational?
Maybe justified, yet exaggerated?
Or real, true, pure...

I can't tell.
I bend, I break, I wring what's left of my mind dry
but these methods are proven insufficient.
no way to differentiate

I take off the gloves.
ELIMINATE
So there's nothing in the way
THEM
As I crush their wriggling bodies between my fingers.
ALL

All I do is turn life to dead silence

It's safe after all. unchanging, stable.

Pure black feels almost soft.

Nothing but void. Just this.

So simple.
Sane.







but next time, I'll try again,
there must be
A different way

A vaguely lit lampshade
Pictures the streets
Where tiny crickets and fireflies
Awaken from their slumber

As many a number cannot tell
The livelihood of the suburbs
Where owls fly and wolves howl
In a sea of light emitting from the lockets

And at dawn the bumblebee flutters
In an elongated mantra
The day awakens, the night rests
And the puppets emerge from their cases

The city where hearts beat and break
Where the puppets dance to the clocktower in the west
But tonight I forgot my key
And remained at peace in my locket

The inner city is my fortress
As the walls shelter me from the cold
The inner city is my teacher
For the knowledge it holds

Source of tradition and history
In a land overcast with grief
As the land wails my heart beats
As the birds fly the city sleeps

And overcome with brief, intimate things
I sleep at night but with a smile on my face

How does happiness fare
I asked to a man
For he exhibited a broken smile

"Every once in a while" he said
I can feel warmth of a thousand suns
Only to be extinguished by the rain

To see the blossoming petals
Dance eternally in the wind
Only to be clouded by the dark

The broken man smiled
For he removed his mask
"Every once in a while"