There is beauty in the parallel horizons, especially when they kiss over the calm tranquil waters meeting the moon.
The weight of your goodbye lingers. Like gravity it shoves me down into a worthless hole feeling like I may never rise again. Crude, raw, and deafening your words were spoken. A broken lullaby to curse me for life.
Retrograde with me
So we can go back and pick the primrose
The first flower to ever bloom
Little feet sleepwalk on the hardwood floor between worlds creating a whisper of a wisp as they run. Childhood laughter hides in every corner haunting me. How I would die to see them again. How I would give my soul to see them whole.
If we expedite our dreams
Past the sorrow
We will never know strength
We will never gain heart
The door opened creaking on its hinges to nothingness on the other side.
A black void of silence.
Face to face with this lore that has haunted me since my mother disappeared, I swallowed back my fear prepared to take a step inside, but hands as twisted as shadows pulled me in.
Therapy doesn’t work like I thought it would. I don’t leave a session crestfallen, but broken, memories on the surface of my mind. But sometimes you need to rebreak something to heal it right. Sometimes the hardest part of healing is rewiring your brain to love yourself.
Every evening at a certain time the fates are delivered a prompt, and with that prompt, they make stories that determine our fate. Some stories are full of laughter, some sorrow, and some things that only the gods will laugh at.
I have a secret if you want it.
It may sound nice to have a soul that is filled with vanity. To love yourself the most of all.
Sounds like a happy existence.
But there are no awards for these selfish hearts in the afterlife.
Be a better ghost.
Thousands of windows
Beat white in the golden sun
Thrumming against the quakes
That erupted the city like clockwork
There, the colossal poleaxe
Threatening in the giant’s hand
Swung an arc 20 floors deep.
The city’s cries were silent in the giant’s ears
For all he heard was his rage