I wrote a short story once.
The villain was standing in the end.
Waiting for the sun to rise over the mountains and
the snakes fell through holes.
I can hear the sounds of silence.
I can see colors floating through clouds of liquor.
A bottle of wine and the whole world seems
flawless.
Maybe,
I am the flaw and the world is trying
to erase me.
The blood flowing through my veins is electric.
It is strange how the world turns,
yet these walls don't break.
Staring at the ceiling and I can hear the birds chirping.
Please,
God help me through this day.
I can not forgive myself.
Only the heroes remember the past.
It is simple nostalgia.
That is the key to destruction.
Love.
Maybe,
that is the key.
One
Two
Three
the trick is over and the spark ignites.
The Earth will one day turn to gold.
One day.
Stars sparkle in the night sky and
the pieces move about the chess board.
Only through capture is there hope for escape.
One day.