...pUzZlEd

Saying things I could not understand, that is why I am here. Saying words no one would hear, that is why I speak. Invisibility. Ignorance. Regret. Words I know, I speak, I understand, and I feel.

Teaching myself to muse. Teaching myself to wake up to each ray of the sun settling on my face. Living by myself as a shadow, as a moon, as nothing, as something. The silence surrounds.

Insanity surmises the difference between my world and theirs.

A world that consists of only me, my ideas, thoughts, conspiracies. A world filled with words one would not understand and one would not hear. My words. No words. And their words will prove fruitless in trying to make themselves heard. Their words will remain stagnant as mine would grin and laugh...

And live...

Live to the tears which they were born to. Die to the colors they were meant to perish with. Breathe to the air that clings to the throat, scratching and nibbling...

Touching the sky with the pillar of darkness. Digging the earth with the stone of light. Differences, differences, all the same. Reveling, dwelling, seeing nothing but the same differences as each dark brown eye stares at the world that is different and strange and familiar at all times. Connecting broken twigs, shattered glass, dropped coins, and dried grass in a fist filled with the worry of the unsurpassed mind that gains nothing and finds nothing but ends up with everything.

Reason to believe, reason to fear, reason to doubt. Reasons are reasons, they are words still. Lies to be told. Excuses to be made. And nothing is at its best and at its peak when there is emptiness everywhere and fullness elsewhere. My world is upside down, out of norms, out of this world. Unspeakable. Aforementionable. Vocabulary overwhelming, society diminishing into nothing but a speck of human breath and being.

Me.

The pieces are laid before me. Life, love, hate, pain... Jagged broken dreams, soul ties, revered principles, bloody morals, and a mind that is twisted in its own right. Mis-matched, misplaced, misunderstood. Things with no meaning, things filled with meanings, both at the same time.

My hand bleeds, filling in the gaps of time and preference. Gaps big and gaping, biting. The pieces cut into the hand, into the heart, into the soul. Pieces glimmer in the sunlight, disappear in the moonlight, never leaving, never dying. Pieces wonderful to behold, pieces wonderful to assess. Pieces.

Mere puzzle pieces.

Nothing more.

NoIsE

It fills the heart, the mind. It drains away all others and gives way to nothing more than nothingess. It eats up all the thoughts, the ideas, the scopes, the life, the fullness, the emptiness. There is nothing and there is everything. The world spins and spins, a top whirling to the pace of one's own footsteps disappearing as the tide washes them away. Craziness, craziness, hard headed stupidity calling out from the depths of the unstable universe that one lives in and crawls in, begging the light of day to stay just one more day before the darkness consumes like wild fire.

The hearing impaired, dying, bleeding. Soft tissue disintegrating into the world's music, feelings, conjunctions, and objections. Things one does not comprehend, the world toying with one filled with the wish to live and breathe yet there is nothing else to look for, nothing else is lost, but one is lost and will never be found. The reality of the fantasy, the fantasy of reality, squishing, mixing, fishing together a hatred, a love, for each other and not for the other. Silliness, seriousness, the world is topsy-turvy, it is straight, it is quiet, it is deafening.

The screams die, the squeals liven, the palms fisted, where the white butterflies and purple dragonflies hover over the blood spilled by the mouths of uknownity, anonymity, obliviousness. Touch the floor and the sky, existence to its utmost, fading away at the mere sight of each other, and of the reason that the life one lives does not exist entirely. Entirety at the fullest, oblivion as the rightest.

The ears bleed to hear, the words yet to be spoken are lost in the hiatus of life that lives in the tree world that one lives in. Insanity, sanity. Confusion, comprehension. Raise the hand of light and the foot of darkness, together they love and hate and prevail.

This is wonder, this is strange. This is the reality and the dream of all that dare to dream. This is paper and this is ink. This is the earth, soft as after rain has fallen. This is the sky, after dawn breaks and dusk settles. This is quiet noise. This is a person. This is a personality, a characteristic hidden with the most care.

This is me.

fLiGhT

Yes. There's a wish to fly. A hope to soar above the world created. Yes. Flight. Freedom. No bounds, no limits, an endless expanse of blue as far as the eyes can see. I close my eyes, spread my arms, feel the weight being lifted from my shoulders. It's a wonderful, wonderful feeling, one of joy, and outlasting happiness. It makes me feel light. Light... And float...

And then I wake up, realize that it is nothing but a silly dream, a much-wanted fantasy. And my heart clenches because I know all of it was not real and the freedom that I have so longed for can never become more than a dream, a much-wanted fantasy. And it hurts me more, knowing, finally knowing and excruciatingly realizing that that dream is never just a hair-breath away.

But I smile. Tell myself that it is okay. That maybe it was all for the better. That life should never run towards that which is impossible to reach, and behold, and touch. And clamor for. And my soul sighs. I sigh, deep, long. Heavy. But the smile's still there, never wavering, never fading, perfect, the correct numer of muscles applied to its utmost precision.

No, I cannot say it is fair. I cannot say it is not fair. I cannot say, much to my chagrin, that dreams do not come true, even if I have spent my entire life doing what hurts the most. Dreaming. Because they do not come true. But how? In what way? Dreams are fading. But, after all, it is all in my head.