"..." - In which reality ceases to make sense, and time refuses to exist, at least coherently.

I have a need for answers. 

Mists

Things grow ever stranger. 

With each twisting breath, each twirling wisp of insanity curling towards oblivion, I can help but... Wonder. 

And change. 

And shift just as my surroundings do, a second vision playing itself out just behind my eyes, and sometimes I see it better than what is actually in front of me. 

I live through dreaming. 

My heart no longer a regularity, just a hectic drum of chaos, too loud, too quiet, too fast, too slow. 

It can't possibly be healthy to have an extremely hard, slow heartbeat. 

And yet. 

And yet, as the mists of my mind's eye close in over me, a quick check reveals just this, as if me, as I exist, is fading away ever so slowly, melding into this other universe I so easily touch. 

I'm simply stuck wondering, when it will end. 

When one side finally dominates the other, when life conquers dream or dream conquers reality. 

Not for the Faint of Heart

Stage One

Admiration, a difference between, small glances & daydreams with or without accuracy in character. 

Stage Two

First contact, giddy anticipation, anxiety and light obsession.

Stage Three

Tactical Subterfuge, long stares and distance among closeness. Utterly confusing the victim. 

Stage Four 

Distancing, loss of interest, branching off either to cease contact altogether or form a coherent, functioning bond of friendship. 

Stage Five

We understand. 

WE. DON'T. KNOW. 

Comrade

There's something in the air today. 

I might just be paranoid,
or utterly drained from a weekend of anemia, but...

I can't stop thinking

Its a normal human process, I know. But that's not the problem.

It's that I keep thinking like a lost cause rather than a human being. 

I waste time
and time wastes me in return

Spaces between the lines

Meet me at the park, under the cherry tree.
Meet me by the creek, lets have a moment by the old bridge.
Meet me... somewhere, anywhere, just not here.

I am a prisoner. 
A captive. 
I've spent too many seasons at the mercy of a malevolent demon.
I've watched too many looming ends to myself pass right on by, apocalypses that dawned but never came.
I've got a black box against my head and its finger is always teasing the trigger.
Not just that, but this Russian roulette it plays doesn't help for sanity.

So meet me by the creek side, let's sit awhile on those rocks and watch the water run by.
Because heaven knows I need a shoulder to cry on.
Heaven knows I'm a crumbling relic at seventeen, when it seems everyone else was just barely built.
The hurricane is just on the horizon, and I don't know if I'll make it through this one.

So please.
Meet me in the park.
By the creek.
On the old bridge.
Maybe on the swings or someplace in the trees.

Meet me there. 
And maybe just maybe I might make it this time like I always have, even with chains around my neck and ice cold claws gracing the inner reaches of my mind.
Maybe. Just maybe, I can make it through the tempest with you.