I miss you but I don't know you
And my name would puzzle you
Yet neither rise your curiousity
Yet you're addictive to me,
This sensation, this adversity,
Sweet, like some iridescent nectar gathered by hundreds of fairies in an instant,
From some magical forest forever showered by the gentle light of the golden hour in the distant...
Albeit the bitter pain afterwards instead,
When reality take back its stead,
Who are you? I don't know
This doesn't make any sense, that I know...
But... if only I can dream a bit longer, for I have dreamed far too long, I know...
But, if there is even a tinier than a speckle of dust of possibility,
In this whole world our universe of unpredictability, please...
I'd like to make our story a reality...
Dilly dally, ***** nilly, talks of dailies,
No roses or daisies,
Just two souls walking together,
In harmony parallel, cruising in life for forever
...

Sometimes I still wake up at night.
To my mid-day terrors.
And my room always feels empty.
My eyes fall off back into time.

I'd always hear you say
That we'd be better off
But who are you to say so
When you're not here anymore.

And I wake up in the after glow
Of the sun from my midnight terrors
This place is just too much for me.
I'd rather not stop to look and see.

And I remember that you'd always say
Nothing would last that long
But how could you tell me that
When you've been gone for far too long.

When I dive back to the sea of dreams
I close my eyes and can't help but think
You were right all along
But I can't tell you that anymore.

And yet as I drift off into the evening sky
Your voice is still as clear as it was that time.
And I wish that I could have this back
Your kind words and the hope you'd bring.

And all the parts I lost that you took from me.

-Persephone

breathe in
the ice cold waters fill my chest
as delicate strings strum in my head

"careful, you'll crack your head open"

careless, my thoughts come pouring out

jump in
unwind and relax
droplets ebb and flow
with a mind of its own

reach out
extend a helping hand
these shallow waters
soak my shoes

laugh
unstrained and wet with tears
living in a daydream
has never felt this real.

drip
a ringing in my ears
as water fills them
like a kiss from a gentle ghost

sway
parting between my skin
hazing through like gentle winds
passing by without a sound

kiss
soft and delicate
like a petal's touch
against my lips

cry
a final goodbye.

If you don't Think
It's a Con
You're Dead
wrong!

If you don't Think
It's a Con
You're Dead
wrong!

If you don't Think
It's a Con
You're Dead
wrong!

If you don't Think
It's a Con
You're Dead
wrong!


                                NOW
                   Only

One
                      question remains:
                  
                            What is It?

                                       ...

If you don't Think
It's a Con
You're Dead
wrong!
            
                                      ...
Bu­t what is It?

Get the angle right,
and the light from a wan blue sky
reflects on the sodden ground
like a disco dancefloor,
pathfinding to somewhere
with umbrellas in glasses,
sand between toes
and baked skin

That it is February
in this upper latitude
can do one for a minute,
let us lounge, sweat loose
and remember our grins

I imagine my happy place,
I picture it in vignette taste.
Like looking through colored glass,
There's a sepia quality to its grasp.

Like wading through a dream,
There's a vagueness to its every gleam.
Everything's the same yet different here,
A constant familiarity hangs in the air.

The picture varies from time to time...

Always it would be a house of some kind;
The edges forever unrefined,
Be it a cabin, a mansion, a farmhouse or two or three
Every ***** nook and cranny this mind could carry

Always it would be somewhere remote;
By the sea, the countryside, by a cliff, or under trees,
Sometimes in an open clearing of endless green grass swaying in the breeze.

... Home.

Though every version varies,
One thing's for certain in this house of made-up stories.
Always, always, and always a thousand times more,
You'd be there standing by the door.

Now I never questioned this part somehow
Cause here's the truth of the matter in tow:
This place could be a garbage dump for all I care
But I'd still call it heaven so long as you're there.

And I find that it's the only thing that matters;
To have your figure carved into this place's corners
I'd gladly let this place take your shape
The smell of warm bread and books here you shall drape.

This landscape is treacherous and ever-changing.
But I know as long you're there in my dreaming,
These childish mock-ups of reality
Shall remain my favorite moments of clarity.

It is my piece of heaven on earth,
My secret happy place while I'm on this dirt.

Heaven don't have a name
But God forbid I find it fitting
That if it did, of course

It would be yours.

What is this malaise,
          that awakens with each yawning day.
Quite the tortured mystery,
          to have a mind that seems intent on being rid of me.
Staring at shapes of shadows,
          creating fables with a brain that’s addled
With a nameless affliction.
Kingdoms have lived and died,
          with only I baring witness to their fall and rise.
Scattered noon sunlight sneaks,
        between dusty blinds and sets aflame the world on my walls.
It is here that I feel,
          screams of terror and the joys of triumph.
The delicacy of a daydream.
A place for me.