Glow within petals.
Electricity ignites
my love of nature.

Ideas float freely behind my eyes,
teasing me with their potential.
But as soon as I reach out
they flit and hop away
as unreachable
as summer skies
and taunting me
with promise
without
​end.

I'd known that my heart wanted release for a while now.
Just not the extent,
or the lengths it would go
to be free of my chest.

Today I awoke
to a low wail thrumming through my bones.
A scratching of hardened arteries against my ribs.
Then without warning,
a blow from within.

My chest rose without my lungs' assistance
then fell again,
once more and my bones screamed
bowing outward with a squelch and a pop.

There was no gore
or macabre sight of any kind.
Only a hollow inside me
like a charcoal eggshell,
as my heart pulled itself
veins trailing like a train behind it.

I didn't struggle
or cry.
After all,
I couldn't blame it for wanting to leave.
I'd stopped feeling years ago.
And it shouldn't have to live within
​something less alive than a wax figurine.

The light peeks gently from beneath the thick shadows.
Eyelashes sway as soft eyes brighten
casting rays of gold
to assure the world that a new day does come,
even if it must slog through muck and grime
straying from path to overgrown path
until it reaches it's destination.
The new day will dawn
and although none know what it will hold,
not even the light,
the possibilities are endless.
All we have to do
is open our eyes
to see what new adventures await us.

I'm trying to pluck things out of my head
to prove to some internet God I'm not dead,
and encourage the Muses to not in fact
abandon me to loneliness out of tact.
Sure, I have days when I write barely anything,
​but that doesn't mean I've given up being their plaything!
Us mortal wordsmiths can only create so much
​when compared to godesses who inspire all art without a touch.
Please bless me with your will and wit!
Inspire me to write, so I may someday publish it!

Flickering
lights warn you
stay inside.

But you are
curious.
Have to check.

They'll find your
corpse later,
​chopped and drained.

I feel like my computer is purposefully testing my limits now,
seeing how long I can hold out
until I crack
until I throw it out all together.

Is that what it wants?
To be free of me?
Are the frozen internet tabs its cries for deactivation?

No, it's just doing what it can to pester me
test my patience.
​
It's laughing at me
burbling in binary
while I click the keys furiously,
only wanting to get my work done.
Is that so much to ask?

Four walls painted white.
A collection of rubbish.
What makes this a home?

I have to wonder now, what's inside your head.
​What you are hiding behind that placid face.
If how you act is just society led,
or if through genetics, you're a special case.
​Does an unemotional society
​obligate your now constant sobriety?
Or are you now so used to doing it, that
​forcing a smile is harder than combat?

Flickering fae lights
dancing in the distance,
spiraling through empty air,
tracing the edges of moonbeams
and playing in the words of the soft wind.

They're calling to you.
I know. I hear them, too.
But plant your feet
and square your shoulders.
You can't go running off after every pair of wings you see.
You've got responsibilities.
A life here.

If you go,
yes you'll dance through starlight
and taste dewdrops,
but their cursed mounds will hold and hide you.
And no matter how perfect a paradise it seems to be,
it's still a prison,
​a world where you are incompatible.
And one day
when they've grown tired of you,
they will toss you out
broken upon the dirt
and laughing,
​drowning in the rain.