Mr. Darcy, you make me blush

You say that I am nothing, not more than a globule of particles, and that one day this grouping will dissipate, and I will fall apart to nothing

I fancy myself a moment, with eyes tight to better my sense of nothing, as a something without hands, or even the words with which I dance, a sort of something without anything, and I wonder where I might go as a thought alone

You say it is amusing, that should I ever lose myself, I would fret over where to go, and not something of more consequence. You say, anyway, that I will never be a thought alone

I smile, that you imagine me troubled, suppose me useless in the case of my being nothing, and take comfort in your protective nature, then consider what might be of more consequence to you than where, but do not inquire still. Instead, I ask if you would humor me, "Pray, tell me where I might go, should you ever be some sort of nothing, so that perhaps I may meet you there?"

You claim it unlikely, waving your open palm across the sky, with grace in place of evidence, that you will ever be a thought alone, "my where is never still, therefore an answer set in words is something very much impossible"

"It is better this way, " I manage to catch my own smile without your taking notice, "as an answer set in words entails far less labour than that in stone, " and content with my own wit, ask for a second time, so as to be sure your focus has not slipped, "where?"

This second inquiry brings to you such a wave of delight, as I suspect your intentions were to raise anticipation, and perhaps leave me curious as to your mysteries, that your face, your mouth so wide as to show every tooth, betrays the romance in your eyes.

When I return your smile, you take my hand,

"You are my where, and as I will always be, even as a sort of bodiless nothing, by your side, you will never be a thought alone"

bits and pieces

i dreamt that the penguin had great aim

at a party on a boat of some sort

and we made friends, but they died

because the penguin had great aim

he threw ice like an angry pro

from a big, flashy board on the wall

like a game

and the targets sat in seats

like a game-show audience

i made sure we wouldn't get hit

but we passed the bar without getting drinks

too many times

at one point, we found our ways to the deck

and pudgy was there

but not roxy

i dreamt that izzie fell overboard

and the penguin got her back

because she belonged to him

she came in from the wild waters

with frosted fur

pudgy was fine

and roxy still wasn't there

i remember walking a staircase,

often or just once

with great weight in our stride

i remember getting home

to a different place

but it was just as comforting

the rest is blurry

walking the precipice

It is healthy to suggest balance, no lean to one side. This is a rational approach to the exploration of the self; experiencing a middle ground, the best of both worlds.

On a more personal note, should you choose to lean, risk slipping, sliding down the teeter end of the totter, you will be made stronger. You will learn to bend your knees, keep your balance; spend days awake, nights awake, until you may walk the precipice.

And think, what a great new world it will be, to see it on it's side

approx. 6300 nights

Remnants of what was, burning images and odors and sensations,

long forgotten amongst what is, and what might be

it's what we label memories, and justify as experience
Yes, tomorrow is a new day

but only if I fall asleep

if only the season could change such a thing

the winter's dry, and dreary; she's cold and full of
death

but
somehow, when the summer dawns, I'll instantly forget
the mounds of snow, the body count, the anger in
these walls

because outside,
beneath the sun, I'll smile, and forget it all

running blind

my words are lazy and unreliable, my eyes heavy

I can't trust my tongue

and even in the fog
these thoughts refuse to slow
running blindly, they collide

scratching and peeling

we scratch at the surface

with words and tears and smiles

and wish it was so easy

as to cut deep into our gut

and watch in front of us, our soul

pool at our feet

we wish not to be alone

to have someone

to want to cut as well

this is the dream of lovers

and the catalyst of fighters

to have someone

who wants to cut you back