I wanted to write you a poem
But I couldn’t find the words
No matter how hard I tried
Everything just felt wrong
I tried to describe you
But words are a disservice
For you are beyond words
It would be impossible to do you justice
My princess, my Khaleesi
When I shut my eyes, your face is all I see
When I cover my ears, your voice is all I hear
When I close my mouth, your lips are all I taste
And yet, you are indescribable
Time slows to a crawl
As my thoughts retreat back into my head
Zooming out from the moment
Like a mental Google Earth
I can see my house from here
I’m up in the clouds
I’m dancing with stars
Did you know you can’t see the Great Wall from space?
I’m leaving the solar system
Leaving the galaxy
Goodbye universe, I’ve found a new plane of reality
What’s that? Now I’m falling
Back to reality
Oh, here comes gravity
Hello stars, hello clouds
Oh look! There’s the Great Wall
Falling, falling, falling, falling
Wile E.’s got nothing on me
I crash into the ground, metaphorically, of course
I’m sorry, what were you saying?
“The music box has been compromised. I repeat, the music box is broken.” Samuel fell into his seat, contemplating the words coming over the radio. “So this is how it ends,” he thought to himself, “how fitting .” He crossed the room to his liquor cabinet and reached all the way to the back. “What better way to go than with fire in my stomach, too.” The whiskey was top-shelf single-barrel, only opened once. Until now, that is. The last time had been to celebrate a beginning, and this would be to mourn an end. “Or is it a celebration? Sometimes an end is just as important as a beginning. Sometimes an end is a beginning.” This was as far as he got.
The ropes began to leave rub marks on Paul’s wrists as a second man walked into the room, this one carrying a crowbar. “Torture me all you want, I’m not gonna talk,” Paul said.
The man smiled a bit. “Talk? All you’ve done since you got here is talk. Personally, I’d prefer it if you would shut up for once. Besides, torture is a terrible way to get information. The second you pull a man’s fingernail, he’s willing to say anything, true or false, that will make it stop. No, you’re going to deliver a message.”
"With a crowbar? How subtle."
Now the man was chuckling. “I have a piece of advice for you, something I learned a long time ago that I think you could really benefit from.” He paused for a moment, seeming almost pensive. “There was this girl at my high school. Her name was Daisy. Now, I was madly in love with Daisy. She was an artist, an athlete, an academic, everything I wanted in a woman. So you know what I did?”
Paul shook his head.
"I was subtle. An act of kindness, a slight inflection in my voice as I said hello, a quick glance in her direction when the radio played just the right song. And not once did she ever acknowledge my desire. So you know what I decided?"
Paul was really starting to question the point of this “talk”, but he shook his head anyway.
The man swung his crowbar into the back of Paul’s head with such force that the entire rear half of his skull fractured. The second swing caught Paul in the face, shattering the other half. By the time he was done swinging, nothing remained of Paul’s head but a bloody, beaten pulp.
"It’s about time you shut up."
If I could wear another’s skin
I probably wouldn’t look any different
Because science has shown
That bone structure is more important
When it comes to determining appearance
Just one more piece of evidence
That it’s what’s inside that counts
Or something like that
The beauty of tomorrow is that, until it becomes today, it is whatever I want it to be, bounded only by my imagination and the dreams I dream at night, but when morning comes, the illusion is gone, I see the dream for what it is, and I am left with naught but the starkness of reality.
It’s not that I can’t
So much as I just don’t want to
Dreams are too perfect
Too painful to wake up from
Sleep makes tomorrow come faster
Makes it a reality
When I’d rather it not be real
So I distract myself
In hopes that I can freeze time
And live in a moment of my own creation
A lucid dream
Without ever waking up
Lyrics here, lyrics there. Always in quotes. We take what others have written, and apply it to ourselves. But why not create? Why look out for things to bring in when we can look in for things to bring out? The words of another can sooth, but it takes words of our own to heal. Don’t just look for catharsis. Create it.
A helix, a helix
Coils upon coils
The Book of Life
Written in three-letter words
Where art thou, inspiration?
Why did you leave, sweet muse?
Now is the time to create
But I cannot create without you
You bless me with sweet catharsis
Then toss me out into the night
You’re bittersweet, a bipolar treat
You blind me then show me the light
So on I will search, both high and low
Until I can find you once more
We’ll laugh and we’ll cry for the rest of the night
But I know you’ll be gone in the morn