Cold are the eyes that stare into you now.
Lashes adorned with a powdering of ice,
glimmering gently in the lantern light.

They are a thing of beauty, yes.
Of that, there is no doubt.
But their darkness is just as undeniable.

Twin pits on a blemish-less face,
that threaten to swallow your very soul,
dragging you down into their bottomless depths,
and enjoying every moment of your howling shrieks
as you disappear forever.

My fingers traipse lightly across the keys,
attempting to tease from them some sort of miracle,
an order of words that delights and astonishes,
blows the mind of all who read them.

They try again, and again.
Growing desperate with each attempt,
but still ending up with piles of unkempt prose
that hold no more meaning than the explicit letters making them up.

I sigh,
closing the computer with a shake of my head.
Maybe tomorrow will be better,
​and the words that I'm searching for will finally be within my grasp.

Lights shine above you.
The audience lays ahead.
Now, what will you do?

I've never understood time.
We all pass through it,
some sprinting ahead with full knowledge of what's to come,
ready to embrace every instant,
while others seem to make each step painstaking,
creeping ahead almost in slow motion.
You look behind you,
and they've barely left the starting gate,
while you're halfway to the finish line already.
It makes me wonder whether they are savoring their time,
measuring the weight of every decision before it is made,
or if they're terrified of the future,
and are only try to postpone whatever's in store for them
​in the days ahead.

There's a point that my brain gets to, when
it's had enough rational thought
and problem solving to last
it for a while. The
tissue turns into
mushy, gloopy
blobs, and the
words just
stop.

The human body is so incredibly fragile.
A tad too much pressure here,
a knick against an artery there,
or a twist of that joint,
and they fall apart like poorly constructed dolls,
a pile of limbs at your feet.

How simple it is,
to sever the connections between the mind and body,
let the eyes roll around in immobile sockets,
as they silently scream,
trapped inside a shell of flesh.

There is just something about knowing each tiny part,
the bones, veins, ligaments,
and recognizing how to alter them just so,
to cause the most destruction all at once,
or draw their end out as painfully as possible.
It makes you feel like a god,
with dominion over these puny mortals,
who are so easily torn apart,
like ill-fitting puzzle pieces.

The earth fell silent and still around me,
falling heavily onto my shoulders
as if it had suddenly stopped turning.
Light glinted off of the metal and glass,
and heat still fell from from sun's rays,
but I felt as if each sight had frozen for a moment,
just so I could experience it properly.
Even the birds had left off the next notes in their songs,
leaving a long pause stretch in their wakes.

Are we somehow sustained, by these small
screens in our hands? One vibrating
cry, and our attention is
theirs. A strange maternal
instinct. A buzz and
we pull them out.
Oh look, a
message.
Yay!

Buildings above me.
The earth is cold and wet now.
​I thought I could fly.

Some days, it's just easier to hide in your mind.
Buried below where your emotions can't reach you.

You can feel the tide rising,
waves crashing and screaming against the barrier,
uncontrolled emotions raging away.

You know full well what's happening,
and probably what caused it.
But you aren't ready to deal with it now,
you can't,
so you your mind hides you away.

You are wrapped in a calm blankness.
Thoughts drifting quietly.
Numbly aware that your emotions can't touch you right now.

You ignore the way your hands shake,
or the pounding of your heart within your chest.

No. Everything is fine.
I'm fine.
I'm not freaking out.
I can't be freaking out, I'm too calm.
I'm fine​.