A Different Kind of Fix

What a state things are!

Continuum of sound filling the space all around, it could be perpetual darkness for the dumb but the blind are washed with a radiant revelry. It is in a land of fire and ice that the heart mends itself carefully and gently. Delicate precision of stitching could be found in the colours of a sunset, more beautiful than you'd see in a city.

Feeling for something new, softest felt brushes fingertips lightly. It is coarse in places but smooth too, after years of use being kept in a box. It's whispered the most wonderful ideas get kept hidden away in their too - that's what keeps it so soft and new.

A messy, unkempt mind.

The tree of life spread her roots so very deep and productively to ensure a solid foundation for which to flourish. Still, with time the leaves should fall and parts should die and disconnect. Should they get second life with reattachment later? Or is that even possible? Philosopher's wrote in some lunacy tongue and made it sound so appealing to Sanity's right mind.

Silk of ivory touches skin, mixed with an olive tone. They mesh together and find peace for the night with each others arms wrapped tightly. It was all in her mind of course, but phantom warmth is still found.

At least the tiles are clean. So it is time to write in great detail.

This clear liquid continues to pour, as a part of the sound continuum, and it untangles knots and removes the dirt. Fade away in this time and take no surprises as an unholy blessing.

"I am so sad since you went away"


I could not envision this for the end of a calendar. I really believe a part of me thought things would change, and maybe that is what is most painful of all. Maybe that is what makes optimism my best friend and greatest enemy. Thought is after all, only thought. Working for what, that is what I consider now. Empty as ever, I'm a glass however you want me. I'm meant to go back there but there's nothing here that makes a convincing argument (especially not the fairy king, who from way back when discussed matters of the court in such a personal fashion it almost seemed distressingly indecent). Full of flaws that will continue to repeat themselves under new disguises. I am full of so many holes that crack at the edges and create new ones. I wonder now when I forgot to feel the lingering guilt and chronic stabbing that should follow from these terrible blows. 'Give away all for free and be open'; that is one conclusion. Drink those drinks you can stand, play your favourite song, sit and (sometimes) live. It is such a tiresome business to pretend you feel full of life. This is a reflection, if you will.

We can blame so much on everything else for the sake of vanity, pride or fear. The mundane grows in our minds to become a heavy weight that should burden our shoulders. A shackle on the red raw wrists you own. Challenge, passion and enjoyment - is that not what we should take on and carry with our very minds and hands. Take your shut-up heart and consent to what you are feeling. If it may not be controlled, must we embrace what we are feeling (even if we hate to admit to it). Do we become ill of character to not accept, yet just as ill if we do? Goodbye to now.

I'll sit and watch the lights for one last night, just as they are, in mesmerising pattern. For after all, what is normal?

This place created here is healing but so bad for me, at times. A wrong tool, to make a wrong fix. I run away and the distance can be great. So I must talk to all who make yourselves known or do not wish to speak aloud for being here, now. Thank you for this, I realise I do not say it often enough. You are the brightest of starlings. Remember just how wonderful you are, often.

"I'm supposed to feel better, this madness supposed to end, I am cold tonight. I am cold tonight. I am cold, tonight."