No. Anything But That

No
Don't dare
use
that weapon
on me.
You think
I don't know?
You think the knowledge
hasn't already
killed me
inside
ruined me
seeped into me
and
drips
now, only
as poison?
How could you be
so cruel?
I thought you actually
cared.

Just.
please.
No.
Rip
open that
wound
and I swear.
I'll be gone
and trust
that you won't be able to find me.

Trespass?

We run
across neat green landscape
manicured hills
groomed sandpits
trimmed
proper
spick and span
clearly not famililar
with harmless trodding
mild disturbance.

grass is damp
our feet squish
water sprays
we fly
wood block bridge
floating moss
marshy pond of glass
mirror for willows
pillow for horizon
upon which rise mountains
framing a melting
sweltering
buttery yellow moon.

Oh
we dance
through colors of sunset
skip
across rocks
over bibbling
babbling
brook
sprint
the four of us
just to see
whose legs are longest.

We run
set free
by this carefree jubilation
joy unleashed
bubbling over
laughter.

And so we return
hearts filled
and overflowing
with that elation
and they tell us
we've been
trespassing
on the golf course.

In Resistance. but not how you'd expect it

I wade through darkness, a murky, thick muddle of lost aspirations and abandoned dreams, a graveyard of unkept secrets and imprisoned memories. The shallow water laps at my ankles, and suddenly I know I have been here before in this cavern. A wind rises from nowhere, whispering that I'm alone here, that it's dangerous, that I better turn back, but I wade deeper, closing my eyes as the cold rises to my knees, to my waist, to mid-stomach. I open my eyelids, but nothing changes. It is pitch black, there are no discernable shapes or figures, and for a moment I am afraid I've made a mistake, that this isn't the right place after all. I spin around and put my arm out, moving toward the gentle thrumming till my hand hits the rough wall of the cave. I stand and listen as the thrumming becomes a melody I remember from a lifetime past, a song I know I've never heard but that I recognize all the same. My hands grope the surface of the cave until my fingertips find the rust of the heavy chain. I pull hard, propelling my bodyweight backwards as my feet sink into the muddy bottom. The iron door creaks open and with it spring the line of defenses, a flood of temptations, doubts, forbidden desires...intangible as everything else, but I feel their hunger for human emotion, their depth of darkness.

Just beyond the door. I can do this. I close my eyes and with it my heart, focusing in on the black behind my eyelids till I can imagine the light, and when I can I follow it through the door, untouched by evil. This is the place. I can feel it. Warm skin touches mine and I sag in relief. "You've made it," he murmurs, shutting the door with a click as we embrace. They won't find us here. We're safe for the moment, masked in time and darkness. But we both know it's not these wards that will keep them at bay. We have a weapon they don't know how to fight. Love. Love is our resistance.

inspired from "Resistance" by Muse

Encounter

The ledge of the bridge is narrow and treacherous. She walks across it in a straight line, scratching her bare feet against the gritty cement as she plans where each will fall on its next step. She appears as if she could be balanced on the tightrope, perched on the highwire—for any spectator regardless could recognize that iron stability. In truth she feels anything but stable, and it's all she can do to try and find a rhythm in her silent footsteps. It's the dead of night and there is nothing to distract her—well, there shouldn't be, anyway. There are no cars on the road, no headlights floating in air, the water of the bay below ripples as the moon sends shimmers of light dancing across the surface and her hair gleams as it catches an unseen ray of that same light.

It's something about the night, it feels stronger to her now, thicker, stifling in its opaque unknowns and mysterious edges. It's completely calm, so calm that she is slightly unnerved by the general lack of motion. The back of her neck prickles and she swivels around, but there is no one there, and in doing so she almost loses her now tentative balance. To fall one way would mean a set of scraped knees at the least. The other...well, she wouldn’t be so lucky. Her death would be imminent and certain. The drop itself would probably knock her unconscious before she hit the water, but even then…she shivers, looking out at the shimmering blackness below, eerily beautiful, hypnotic, alluring. But she knows. It is terrifying thinking of how cold and helpless she would be as the waves sucked her below the merciless current, thrashing her screaming, writhing form till she was blue and limp, because no matter how hard she fought she would still be pulled under. The agony of five minutes framed in the hysteria of drowning. Death would be a relief. She shivers again, clearing the image from behind her eyelids and focusing on the cracked cement under her feet a mere four inches wide, taking a deep breath. She knows what she is doing. She isn’t going to fall.

She continues her careful footsteps, watching the way the shadows fluctuate on the ground, sheen of light so faint it could fade into the darkness at a moment’s notice. She stares ahead at the solitary streetlamp on the far side of the bridge, a beacon spilling its welcome in a warm glow. But it’s so far away. She walks toward it as if she’s in a trance, as if the streetlamp is all she’s capable of seeing. So mesmerized is she that she fails to notice the pale green illumination that has come to hover directly overhead. She is bathed in an otherworldly luminescence, a light composed of air and stardust and particles from orbit, of the foreign, the unreal, of intrigue and distortion and rebirth. She feels her hair stand up on the back of her neck as her eyes find the skyline from the gaps of the bridge’s structure, widening in disbelief.

A spaceship is approaching, lit up like an entire city in itself. It’s too much for her vision to process, the emanating green blurs into splotches of untamed exposure and she can’t tell where darkness ends and light begins. Why is she here? She needs to get away. She turns to the solitary lamppost, reaching blindly for a sense of direction, any direction, but the light has gone out. Her only flame of hope. Gone. She panics as her vision settles. The blinking shuttle has landed and the door opens a crack, emitting a violet wavelength that triggers a sharp burning sensation in her veins, making her gasp in shock. The door appears to disintegrate into the open night air—it hasn’t moved, it hasn’t been manipulated—it’s simply no longer there. She stifles a bloodcurdling scream as three creatures step out of the interior. There’s no one there to hear her. It’s deserted. The night will swallow her up and no one will know the better. Her heartbeats are crashing, her stomach in her throat. She is sure of only one thing as the distorted forms close in on her wavering silhouette—she must not be taken. She allows one fleeting glimpse toward the glittering darkness below, knowing it will be the last decision she ever makes. And then she jumps.

Nonsensical Dreams

A gust of wind
carries me away
into radiant summer day

I am a daffodil
translucent fairy
never beleaguered
never harried

The whistling sounds
spin all around
dancing prancing
on the ground

A glittering flitting
resounding ring
I see the sprites
I hear them sing

And flying on air
so weightless I'm soaring
bluebells and dewdrops
are never deploring

But I'm out of tune
I'm out of place
I don't belong here
I'm a disgrace

The wind's now a whiplash
no longer calling
my wishing is hopeless
my dreams are falling

As so I wake up
to a blank empty mind
imaginings washed away
sunshine left behind.

Faltering Recognition

The offramp beckons.
Thoughts have been reduced
to a dull thrumming
as the irk of impatience takes hold
as anxiety sets in
like a poison spreading through
seeping veins
the indisputable inkling
We're almost there.
Turn the corner
and we're amidst
the sprawled canal
Sidewalk
and there she is
one girl
nonchalant black dress
a free spirit
in an unfamiliar stranger
But my eyes find the tag
hanging from her shoulder
a telltale identification
and realization
hits me hard.
My hands grip the steering wheel
as uncalled nostalgia envelopes
an unsuspecting soul.
Longing for that month
the world became real
that I discovered the music
and we all
found
the artists in ourselves.
Inspiration
a gradient
and the memories flood me
because exactly one year ago
That girl was me.
I want to go back
For it's such an odd
odd feeling
not being there this
summer
I know how all the others feel
our time at CSSSA is over
expired
came to a complete end
in the clinging fragments
of a year already lost.
Alas
I wish the girl all the best
for her earthshattering month
has only just begun.