A murderous wind pushes mad against the unmoved buildings which line the street. In my mind whir thoughts of you and I and the way we can’t seem to help but see things as poetic when the rest of the world sees them not at all as such. I can tell by the way you move, the uncanny things you say. The way you look at me like everything you ever wished for all your life is about to spill helplessly from your beautiful mouth.
I’m sure it’s a curse but one I want with all of my heart to keep the ache of longing alive in my bones. To see beyond the beyond and try desperately to bring something back worth sharing in whatever feeble attempt the average disillusioned mortal can make at writing down what one believes when everything else falls away.
I have spent much time alone this past year, reflecting on the relentless insanity of it all. Disease, division, destruction. The only thing more absurd than the Absurd is whatever the fuck reality has come to be. The ridiculous thing is that there is some part of me which thinks, perhaps quite stupidly and against all odds, that something wondrous is about to begin if I could just let go of what has been all along.
Inside the shadows which line the corners of my bedroom walls, I can feel something within me crawl toward a door which has too long remained closed. A soft white light glows elegant beneath, as I kneel like a child too timid to reach for the knob above her curious head. Outside on the wind, the voices of those who left this one small life behind with stories still inside them tremble and moan and call to me, like something wild is about to make itself known in no uncertain terms.