My Friend

My dear friend, after these long years, we have turned a shadowy acquaintance into a friendship that is real and true. It possesses a simple truth that outshines the most complex relationship, and has more allure than any passionate love could ever have. I adore the carefree hours we spend lost in conversations full of magic and hope, and relish the tranquil feelings I have when I depart your company. Such a peace could only be found in the presence of one that I truly feel at ease with. You, my friend, help me so much more than you will ever know. Your gentle kindness reminds me that there are those out there that still value sincerity and who still believe that a trusted friend has more worth than most anything else.

Empty Dolls

With heartfelt illusionary hugs, I hold these tarnished innocent souls close to my heart. I cry inside for the pain they have always lived with and for their futures which seem so impossible. These are the forgotten children that the world has closed their eyes to. They exist only in paperwork and files and few even know their names. Many will never meet their own goals in life much less anyone else's and some will just vanish without anyone noticing. Victims of the system that is supposed to serve them, these broken dolls have grown into empty shells of the lively beings they once were. Lost and blinded by their pain, they stray far into a darkened jumbled place that I can't even begin to understand. As their teacher, I can only hope to show them that there exists is a path back to being alive.

Blocked

The world was so much easier when words flowed from my fingertips as easily as water rushing through a mountain stream. My mind felt empty and free of the clutter of everyday life. So different from the current feeling of being trapped in my own twisted mind of complicated and inescapable thoughts.

Honor

"I was a bride. My dreams were taken from me. But now - now I've stolen them from someone else. I love you, Victor, but you are not mine." from The Corpse Bride


Precious few prizes are given in this world. Limited are the perfect unions of two hearts. Such a unifying force is rare in a place that values the expendable for being cheap and efficient. Memories are short lived and valuables are quickly replaced with little emotion or loss. Who am I to contribute to such a waste?

My fairy tale

In my split world of distorted fairy tales, the crone is the victor. Creatures of the light are shunned for their weakness, as demons of the dark are revered for their determination. Here, the innocent are rejected by the princes who desire a darker companion. They plot with the evil to lock away the pure in a solid stony tower of unbreakable walls. However, honorably, the gallant knight still stays stuck to his immaculate bride and waits with her in her lofty oppressive home. Surrounded by nothing but empty hope, he watches as time and his life slowly pass him by. Sweet sir, climb down her golden braid and escape from the teetering tower that exists in the space between light and dark. Ever weary of the thorny walls, scale past the broken glass and find the divided home of mixed up messages that lies below. There exists two lands so near the knight, but so far apart with the details that separate them. And he, stretched between both worlds, manages to benefit from the two. While he indulges in the dark, he also finds comfort in the light. Its serene tranquility seems to give him some kind of happiness that the exotic darkness cannot. In this blurred fairy tale world, there are no happy endings. There will never be a magic winged horse that carries star crossed lovers away and no music will play when the end finally comes. My finale has the dark taking over. The cackling crone will indulge in her whims to the demise of all those that surround her. The knight will fade away and the burning candle that sits on high will burn out and turn to ash; just as the stony tower falls and destroys the land of the light.

Bored

Time ticks by like talons on the smooth surface of a chalkboard. Each screeching mark counts off the empty seconds of airless space. Gone are the wild times and joyous days that gave the world a happy glow of exuberance. They have been replaced by the monotonous routine of dull grey real life.

Caged

Sweet sorrowful illusion, you exist only in my dreams of open time. My truth is crammed full of obligations and responsibilities that keep me from delving into a world of misadventure. So few are the moments of chance and so scattered are my thoughts; such turmoil makes any union appear impossible. The powers seem to have so much invested in ensuring that these wild fantasies stay confined in a cast iron cage of commitment.