It starts as a sinking feeling.

You can't really tell if it's in your throat
or your chest
or the very pit of your stomach.

All you know is
something's coming
rushing at you
and there's nothing you can do to stop it.

You turn to look
and still
you can't see anything...
it's just a normal day.

But trust me.
Trust that feeling in your gut.

It'll come when you least expect it.
After you've forgotten this warning
and gone back to blissful ignorance.
It always does...

If I do this right, it'll fix everything.
If I mess it up...

I mean, it's just a mass of tangled up wires
how hard can fixing it be?
I've even got the manual right-
dammit!

Okay- okay-
it's fine.
I read that thing from cover to cover at least twice.
I took the training course.
I can totally do this.

Just find the double wide red wire...
and the crazy-thin orange wire...
and then within two seconds unplug them both,
replace them with new ones,
but don't let either of them ever touch any of the other wires
until they're both fully secured.

Yeah- I- I've got this...
Absolutely...
There- and there- and-
shit, were those sparks?
Did I-?

Aaaand now the sirens are going off.
​That can't be good...

Okay then, let's get this straight.

You thought I was an evil monster...
because I have horns and six legs.
So, instead of doing the polite thing and saying hi
or even asking me where I was from,
you pull out your blaster and shoot me.

*Sigh*
I mean, I heal fast
and you're a terrible shot,
but seriously!
Learn some manners!

Is this your first trip off-planet or something?

Ah, you from one of those tiny colonies on the ass end of Pluto?
Thought so.
You folks don't get a lot of visitors there,
especially not Hlcatheci like me.
So it's not so crazy that you lost it soon as you saw me.

Just... promise me you'll stop being so trigger happy?
Good.
Now I won't have to eat you.
Enjoy your vacation!

We're separate
our thoughts spill
through our keys

Locked away
to save lives
Quarantined

But staying
in contact and
​sharing love

I dreamed that I wrote last night...
but I woke up to a blank page.

Not sure where the words went
or if they ever appeared at all.

Maybe they faded into the empty text box
stolen away by the techno-fae
to be savored only by them?

Or perhaps the whiteness crashed over them
an avalanche of emptiness
that swallowed them whole.

Either way, I better work harder this time
put up more wards
to guard my words against the dangers
of the world behind my eyelids.

The soothing lullaby of raindrops is beautiful
nature's way of telling you to chill out
and drift off into dreamland...

But when you're trying to type out a daily poem
and all your eyes want to do is droop
because of the white noise provided by the outside world-
it's obnoxious.

How do you resist the urge to sleep
after a day of pounding the pavement and breaking your brain,
when the very weather is against you?

If you know the answer,
let me know.
​I'm still working that one out.

Sunset paints new worlds
amidst the lengthy shadows.
Are you coming too?

I'm having that nightmare again.

The one that always starts
with me standing outside an old, decaying mansion
my hand hovering over the doorbell.

There's nothing wrong, really.
Nothing to tell me it's a nightmare.
It's not a dark and stormy night with thunder crashing
there are no graves bursting with the living dead
and I'm standing their fully clothed and uninjured
like a normal day.

But for a reason I'm unable to determine,
my palms are sweaty
and dread's wrapped tightly around my lungs.

With the way I'm feeling,
you'd think the doorbell would ring with shrieks.
But when I press it
those all-too normal chimes ring out.

And when the ringing ends
the whole world goes silent.

I can't even hear air enter or leave my lungs.
Can't even tell if I'm breathing.
Not even my fingers will twitch.

And I watch frozen
as the door inches open
taking what could be days to reveal the shadows inside
inch by inch.

I don't even see your face.
Just the skin of your fingers as they wrap around the wood
stained and rough.

Then I wake up
and I still can't breathe.

 When do you decide to open a door?

After a single small voice from the other side
asks you nicely?

Or perhaps when a mob of fists and bricks
slam again and again,
measuring their determination against yours
and the strength of your barriers?

I urge you to consider another option.
That maybe...
just maybe...
your door is closed and erected for a reason.

That the locks and bars are actually there for your protection
and not just for others to demand entry through.
That choosing to remain safe and separate is just as valid
as throwing that same door wide
and allowing anyone you want to enter.

If you need that door to stay closed,
then embrace your instincts.
Don't let others tear down the structural integrity that keeps you safe.

Dragging, aching feet.
Step through the door, ready to
collapse into bed.