Solely is that leaf which fell from their tree.
It shook to try and get back up, but he can't.
He misses the other leaves, the ones who didn't fall.
The wind is dragging him further away from four.
This world is unfamiliar to him, this sun is much brighter.
The wind deepened him, high stop a mountain.
It's getting colder for that leaf, dryer, more fragile.
He is starting to crumble, his nectar is being taken.
But a new fluid fills him, and he erects to a new tree.
He wants to recount with his old leafs, but he can't.
He'll never awake now, his other leafs will never know.
Solely is that lead which fell from their tree.

The Universe keeps putting blocks in my way,
on my knees crying for an end to this disarray.
I keep following this map lead by a dream,
but I still strike the wall til those twin paws bleed.
Lost in my ways, gospels won't break this wall.
Searching for some former clarity before I fall.
I tried to hide these marks from that same dream,
another un-necessity that came to stream.
This hopeless message never has a chance to relay,
The Universe keeps putting blocks in my way.

Everywhere I fall I see that brace,
         the shadow of her name.
Every time I break from sweat,
         the shadow of her name.
The Hand Toucher read those two,
         the shadow of her name.
The leaves change color in that shape,
         the shadow of her name.
The way the river's currents change,
         the shadow of her name.
Forever blocked from the sun,
         in the shadow of her name.

The Universe is a She, and she is out to get us. Inescapable.

I had a friend named John. John was locked inside a circle of never ending nightmares, one after another, never ending. He prayed to God, whoever, or whatever what listen to him. He couldn't get out. He never woke up, just constant nightmares. In his nightmares, he had nightmares and the paradox never ended. John thought there was an easy escape, to jump of the edge of the world, his world that is. His world was flat, and he didn't know why. He had a mountain in his world, the tallest mountain he could imagine, but he couldn't climb it. If he would've climbed his mountain, his world would be round again, but he didn't know. He blamed the Universe for all of his problems. But the fact was, the Universe was his mountain. That infinite, never ending mountain that John couldn't climb, because he didn't know how. John's dreams disappeared once that mountain arose, but he let it happen. He let her happen, the Universe. She took over, John's imagine was infinite. But infinite couldn't compete with the universe. And so John screamed, and clawed at the wall designing his own perfect Universe. But she wasn't the real Universe. The real Universe was on him, harassing him. John hid in his own mind, in that world he designed with the mountain, and there she was. Inescapable she was. So John finally jumped off that edge-less world, and John ended his tie with her, but she never left. John was finally free. Free for that instant he was falling, and then he saw the light. The ceiling lit up and the world was back to normal, John was back in the Universe.

The Universe is a She, and she is out to get us. Inescapable.

That red-eyed squirrel, so common, yet so unique, follows them without being noticed. Emptiness.

As soon as he woke up, he walked out of his room into the hallway and saw it sitting there. Someone left his top door open, and a little squirrel wandered in. He cautiously walked up to the squirrel, afraid it would jump at him, or run away, but the squirrel remained still. The man made sure not to scare the squirrel, for there was something about the squirrel he couldn't quite get. So the man stopped right in front of that squirrel, right in front of his top door, the man thought he was dreaming for the squirrel had not moved. The sun was red, bright, burning him, blinding him, so he shut the door. The door fell shut, and the outside world was gone. All that was left was the man's home, in his hallway between two doors. He turned around and the squirrel was following him with bright red eyes, red like the sun, but not blinding. The eyes were enticing, and so the man followed. The squirrel led him back into his room and the man picked up the squirrel, the red eyes still following the man, the man still following those bright red eyes. Their eyes were getting wider, swallowing more and more. And the red eyes still remained. The eyes are getting the best of him, and he can't resist, so he drew his own drops of red, being pumped away more and more. As it poured through him he cried and looked up and noticed a glimmer of light shining, shining so bright, but not blinding, not the sun, nor the squirrel's red eyes, but a new light. The man looked back down still open, still staring, but saw no enticing red eyes. He looked back up, and saw the light was gone. All that intrigued him was gone, he mind in pieces on the ceiling, still trying to find light on the floor. He ran tot he hallway. The faucet poured nothing, the light switch turned to darkness when he wanted light. Finally he went to the mirror, his eyes still wide, but this time, red. The squirrel he saw, not himself, but a new self, a red self. The monster he saw was not him, it was not a creation. The sight of the beast shocked the man, causing him to jump. He didn't land. There was no gravity. There was only that monster, the monster with red eyes. He was floating in a new place, he saw Alex and Emelia whom he thought had passed, but next to him floating, falling, crying.

He blinked, jumped, and gasped for air. Ran out to that hallway, between two doors, both open and saw nothing but the outside world.

That red-eyed squirrel, so common, yet so unique, followed him, until he was gone. Emptiness.