Hurt

I open my eyes and there is just enough light to see my only other confidant. So fresh in my head the machinations of my thoughts. I confess them to my pillow. 

I am heart without chest to beat in. I am wingless yearning to fly. I remember better. Though I am smothered by worse. The ghosts of my past haunt me still. While the living don't bother with my tombstone. 

I, stronger than before, yearn for the plot of earth that is promised to all in time. Is fear of loneliness the monopoly of truth? I will never lie to myself again.. So is my fear my future because of my choice? Is the joy of this reality truly the joy of lies? 

Mccobb is the portal through which I gaze a summer day. She is a beautiful melody. A lie on every note. But a beautiful melody nevertheless. 

Small moments like the crumbs at the bottom of the bag. Small moments. The momentary drizzle of a well needed rain. The joy it brings until it stops. The incessant wait for the next gift from heaven. Today was one of those days. I felt like a citizen. I felt human. And yet it was only a small moment. 

I stare at the wall. But a part of me sees beyond. It no longer tells me of its visions. I wait in vain for my visions to come back and tell me of good tidings. Of this no dreams return. No rest is given. No future in light. Nothing but the wall. 

When hope dies and doubt prevails. Darkness triumphs and light surrenders. Hatred is found, love is lost. Invisible is common, while acknowledgment is sparse.To this reality logic is an unworkable tool. With intellect untethered to the fabric. 

There is no one to sit, safe from the here and now. Together to dream and wonder of the vast out there...  The fates that determine that what you search you will find, no longer find themselves in residence. I am betrayed. 

The Earth bristling with life is cold to me. I walk in echoes that I cannot touch. But echoes that touch me and I am left with no recourse. No amount of prayer can bring my dreams back to me. The sleeper has awoken. And look what I have awoken to. 

Must I choose the golden path? Or walk blind into the desert to die? No answer. No witty repartee. Just the blank stair. The emptiness. Pillows don't make good companions, nor friends. They have low educations and an even lower vocabulary.

But they are always there.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

♤  The Ace of spades. That's what they called me. I trump the King. I will never sit with the Queen. I do not suffer the joker nor all of his numbered friends.

I never dreamed I would rise so high in this game of spades as to be alone in it. 

As for you Voo, being cryptic allows the freedom to tell the truth that no one truly wants to help you with.