A letter to a boy

This is a letter to a boy who walks
head and shoulders above the rest -
always seeming like he's seeking
greener pastures, or looking for me.

This is a letter to a boy who catches up
when I let him, never knowing it's not just luck
that draws me out of the crowd I become,
because desperation is only fun for so long
when he says, "Come here, kitten,"
commanding voice, unflinching eyes - I'm smitten
and curiosity killed the . . . urge to wander away again
so now I'm done with pretending.

This is a letter to a boy who moves
like the weight of thoughts and ideas
future, present, past
could never hold him back from
me, a body he's grown to own
dragged from every syllable scratched
into this patchwork quilt of injuries, we make
together, one square at a time,
leaving bruises, drawing blood
as we ease towards what could
be the newest caution line, unrecognized
until cauterized with screams
fate plays cruel jokes with handcuffs and emotion
building devotion
and commitment to not trying to run away
from this moment in time when he first said
"You hurt me" and I was anguished that he meant it.

This is a letter to a boy who isn't all real
because we still both live partly in another century
and while he means what he says is still ambiguous
about if he means "us"
as in two people, or together.
In the wandering meantime wondering if we've played at house
long enough to pretend this could be reality.

This is a letter to a boy who once said
nothing in the silence
because the slowing breath of sleep
had stolen in to ration already-precious time
when he didn't realize Sleeping Beauty
was only partly enchanted and could still hear him.
So he slipped out of bed to pen her a poem
goodbye.

Awakened.

I don't think I've been this captured by words
since I was back in the past
twisted a little too close for comfort
by the dark-haired poet and his green-apple cigarillos.
There's a special place
reserved for those who forsake sleep for laughter,
and poor choices;
I'd show you the way, but I falter
and sink into the ground
like so much rainwater -
like so much thought.

This isn't me capturing your imagination.
Let's be clear.
This is about payback for promises
some other incarnation made and failed to deliver on.
This isn't about connections,
attractions - the failures
trial trial trial and error
bring.
If I were spontaneous the way you clearly aren't,
this would be about more than forging metal between two minds
far too perfectly suited to the welding process.

Let me hear your voice
and let it be song -
the painful, chaotic ring
of agonies unspoken.
And tell me when you do,
what the hardest part is
of being you.

The Dasti Experiment...16

These are idle musings.
Breaking down the world was only for amusement.
It takes accident torment to life.
Failure is the daughter of haste, cousin of deadlines.
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"Love...familiy. I know nothing of these things. Weapons do not form families. They form arsenals."

"A single human being is an entire world...I'd like you to just make a guess at how many worlds were destroyed today."

"No matter how many times I say 'I love you', I will never be able to make you fully understand the way that you make me feel."

"I am now going to disassemble you and arrange the pieces alphabetically "
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Family is a gift that too many people take for granted. Family is a concept lost upon the modern age. But maybe that's okay.

Dasti ran without knowing exactly where.

The streets lay empty and cold. The blaze of the church beckoned.

There existed no time. Not night, day, midmorning or even watch.

Time did not exist.

Dasti ran.

The church burned.

Eloro watched the burning church from her armchair, rocking back and forth over the shattered corpses of cups.

When all else fails, there are weapons.
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In the Bible, Cain demands to know if he is to be his brother's keeper.

"Stay awake," Nirax said. "Stay awake or you'll miss it."

Airthe struggled to keep his eyes open.

The burning church lit the air to make breathing a chore.

Air, air, Airthe's lungs sang. Air, air. Air to breathe.

"Stay awake," Nirax said. "Stay awake or you'll miss it."

Airthe's eyes demanded to close, against the smoke.

The burning church lit the air.

Air, air.

To breathe.

Air to breathe.

Air, air, Airthe's lungs begged. Air without smoke.

"Keep your eyes open."

The church exploded.

In real life, Abel kept Cain.
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Silver is the representative of longing and affection unfulfilled. Gold is just longing. That's always unfulfilled.

"What way are we going home?

"By foot."

"But what way?"

"The long way?"

"Oh. Okay." Totaz stopped pulling Saxiel's hair. "I like the long way."

Saxiel smiled.

"Why do you like the long way?"

Totaz smiled. He kissed Saxiel's cheek.

Saxiel flushed.

"You hold me longer this way."

This feeling, this longing – corruption. Fear. We are different. Always.
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Moving parts. Not for children under tn years of age. Some assembly required.

"Someone, someone help me!"

The crowd passed in silnce. The finger of accusation had too many other people to point to.

She had a job.

He had kids.

She felt tired.

He carried groceries.

They didn't want to get involved.

And they…they just didn't care.

"Help! Help!"

Bruesia made it sound like a plea.

Tsisas laughed. He held a bloody knife against her chest.

Bruesia leaned forward slightly.

The knife felt cold, even through her shirt.

Now we know our ABC's, next time won't you sing with me…