i am trapped.
glued to the floor.
quicksand around my ankles.
enveloping my lungs.
can’t breathe.
can’t stop.
dragging me down to the depths.
the depths of inescapable nightmares.
tumbling.
sinking.
begging.
screaming ****** ******.
sand filling my throat.
scratching my esophagus so roughly.
clawing at my sensitive skin.
scraping my neck.
open wounds.
hourglass specks falling on top of me.
quicksand pulling me under.
can’t think.
can’t breathe.
arms reaching for anything.
branches, safety—more sand.
bubbling stomach with layers of salty sand.
pleading.
suffocated by the dust.
head underneath.
engulfed by the vicious sand.
gone.

Is it better to have loved and have lost?
Or to never have loved at all?

To love someone is to be willing to change for them.
To be willing to melt away the form of your normal iron dagger, and create a mold with someone else.

That mold is created with love, and your new, vulnerable liquid form is cast, ready to be turned into a beautiful piece of art.

Yet to have lost, is to shatter that mold, whilst the metal still cools, turning that piece of art into an ugly, useless hunk of metal.

Sure, the metal may be stronger, and sure, you may eventually find a fellow smith, willing to melt that mess into a new mold, but you may never.

You, along with your fire and metal, must melt your own iron down and build your own mold. An extraordinary effort in order to make use of your new, ruined form.

Not everyone can handle working on a broken piece, but it's the only one you've got, and you may end up with something less useful than even a plain iron dagger.

Is it better to have loved and have lost?

Very few people would be willing to take on an art molded from nothing.

But at least most people would be willing to try and improve, a simple, iron, dagger.

in the unrestrained tornado
i heard the scream of a little girl
she screeched and screeched and got louder with every breath she took
i heaved deeply
so deep i felt my ribs crack a bit
but it didn’t impair me
because i was too locked in to her helpless and terrified yet determined screaming
so locked in
that i didn’t take a moment to breathe

     and that’s when the winds died down
     the roaring halted
     stopped
     the shouting of the young girl was all gone
     the uncomfortableness that i felt, dissipated
     into the shadow of the night
     no damage had been done
     everything is all good now
     i didn’t know natural disasters could be
     created inside the mind of a poser

when i am alone
i stand firm in myself
like a boulder in the ocean

but when i love
the tide is too strong
and i am too often swept away

why do i try so hard
to formulate my own center of gravity
if i so easily let someone else
become the moon around which i orbit

if i am a planet
with my own biome
why do i let someone else
control the weather

i am growing older
and i cannot flourish
without letting someone else
come along and destroy my garden