I have an awful headache from the sniffling. Flickering from the lamp makes ghostly shadows on the walls, taunting my restless mind even more. The sleep is far from comforting and does not take away the fatigue as it is meant to.
My mind wanders over and under, in and out of all the possible nooks and crannies and hideaways of the problems and perspectives. There is a veritable dent forming on the bridge of my nose from spectacles resting their weight there. A knot in the base of my throat from sickness or worry or both I can be sure.
Thoughts of sharp dull searing crackling relief are on my brainwaves. Only moments of despair and shock and then a distraction from the aching of decision-making.
My head does ache so awfully.

the single-cell shark

"It's not the single-cell shark," you tell me.
But I knew that.
It's a mess and you design it
destroying distant blue galaxies
while sipping on viscous sin.
I bring you a crisp white linen napkin
to wipe your lips
so the cordial doesn't stain them red.
I take care to not impinge
while cleaning small drops of spilled liquid.
Keeping my head down I strain my eyes to the side
until they have an uncomfortable ache,
trying to catch a glimpse of the screens your glazed eyes ceaselessly scour.
I see foreign letterings and faces from many of the known worlds.
You shift in your chair and I dart my eyes back to the floor, my
heart feeling like it has stopped and racing at the same time, my
stomach in a knot.
"You've done quite enough there."
Your tone is cool and quiet, and it sends an awful chill
down my back.
Hastening out of the room
I get one last look at the melange of secrets that is your work
as I pull the heavy wooden door shut.
The bolt clanks loudly and echoes in the dark hall.

night

I felt my hipbones digging into the mildly soft bed
and started thinking of writing
and then reading the writing
and then regretting

I am an open and shut case of disaster
a myriad of ineligible words, half-told stories, soft-spoken declarations
I thought we were going somewhere
my plane, now weighted down with extra baggage, was cruising along above the treeline
though not so high, it was sweet air that rushed around us
dips into the dark forest started, and I tried to pull up, again and again it happened...
we finally crashed

the pieces are everywhere
I can't even find some
there's rotting flesh all over the woods, entrails hanging from the branches, blood spattered on the fallen leaves
the bones, the bones are dry and brittle, cracking, I don't know if I can rebuild it this time

Perhaps I'd best use some manmade materials
circle the joints with copper wires
find steel plates to reinforce the wings
maybe a control or two at the front to help me with the steering
and to avoid future mishaps and fatal crashes

I need you

it is all too much for this aching head
the simplest thing would seem to be bed
but even that has lost its appeal
and the only rest would be to feel
to feel the sand underneath my soles
to hear the ocean as the sea wind blows
to smell the salt wafting in the air
to feel your hand in my tangled hair
being away somewhere with you
is the only thing I ever want to do

that's not fair or nice

tasteless tauntless wantless skinless
spine-curling wrist-cracking flesh-bruising throat-numbing
licking frosting tainted with metallic viscous liquid
tracing circular spiraling swirls around the dark wet spots in the dirt
"I miss you slightly," I think and push up the spectacles that have slid down the bridge of my nose
use teeth to retrieve a splinter from under one jagged nail
the time? the time?
check my waistcoat pocket and yes the watch is still there
my hands shake slightly as I pull out the timepiece and flick it open
there are the dials, the years months days hours and minutes that have been decided without my approval.
fingers fumble the cover back shut and slip the clock away into it's dark warm home
the specter leers overhead, it's shadowy form drifting back and forth
I make sure to keep my eyes focused downward to my startling savage display
my earthen table set with the special occasion silver
and the magnificent mangled corpse that was your abode

from the notes

note

push my fingers into the skin of your
arms through the surface to the
pulsing veins and sinews below

I feel alone.

all my wonder is gone

I could sit all day
and wait for you to grace the room
down the stairs like they're
not there
lace your hands in your strings

oh back room breathing
dissipating feelings of static
interactive thoughts and speaking
show me all the way through this thing, love

show me all the things you love, love
show me how to care
you can break each bone with careful fingers
shatter me with breaths of air

it's...

1, 2, 1, 2
fuzzy inside my head
like a blissful tingling static from a television
tickling my skin my brain spins labyrinths of splendorous thought
do you feel the space there all around you pressing in and pulling out your shape
melt and meld with the humidity in the air it's the water all part of it

it would mean more if...

you had less than twenty sides total
if the solutions didn't involve salt water hazy spaces or burning liquid
if your eyes were real and not glass
I tumble over and over and fall face down in the muck
you're busy talking and don't see it happen
I pull myself out, gasping and spitting out murky water and dirt
and hobble over to where you stand, wiping wet strands of hair back from my face
you don't even glance at me as I come up by your side
I struggle to make my breaths quieter, less haggard
I sound like a dying animal
she looks at me and smiles smugly
I shake and clench my fists feel my nails dig into the palms and draw blood
she scrunches up her nose cutely (disgustingly) and looks back to you
I look as well but you are busy conversing with three others through radiowaves and electric signals
I look down trying to keep the devil inside

rewire liar

rewire liar and disassociate the ends
we won't make it over this waterfall in once piece
the barrel will be slats and splinters that we'll cling to with our desperate last hopes
but splintered wood never saved anybody from drowning
your lungs will be so tight and full of river
shredding your throat with every screaming breath you try to take
gargling spit blood and skin trying to ask someone to save you
but it's hard to understand a dying man
one fair hand will reach out and grasp at clumped strands of hair

somniphobia wanderlust and pinpoints

is the subtitle, I haven't changed it in a while.
it's from when sleeping was terrifying for me and so I would do as
much as I could to avoid it.
It was literally a physical experience of fear when I thought about
going to bed.
mostly it's disappeared since then, because I sleep with my other part
all the time.
At night he is always there beside me.
Even in my dreadful sleep paralysis times
I have heard his steady breathing and that is
what rescued me.
now it's time to sleep and I'm without him for the first time in so long.
It's not terrifying but... overwhelmingly sad.
I am thankful for tomorrow.

dear little thing

inside you little box there
can you see me looking at you?

Vampyroteuthis infernalis

how do you describe

that ache inside
it makes salty water leak from my eyes
turns my limbs inward and outward at the same time
my skin is dead
numb tips of fingers and need for nothing
except for touches of your face and
the rest of you
the rest of me
I need this

distant

is that a reused title I'm unsure
I'm in a strange state
geographically it should be and I suppose is familiar
but my mind and senses are drawn in down and confused, sad and missing you
the once comforting things here are now painful and upsetting
I want your dark hair twisting in my fingers
your perfect face picking up hints of blue in the light from the television
all pretenses of magical mumblings have left me but
been replaced by love for you

older

he said "why do you make yourself unhappy, dear," in a distant unattached tone, adjusting the spectacles that had slid down the bridge of his nose. "the rest of the world is doing just fine while you sit whimpering about nonsensical sadness." I bit my lip and looked back down at my hands, picking at the fragment of skin hanging from one cuticle. From his disapproving, arrogant expression, clearly today was not the day.

magic in bottles makes my nights swirly lyrical melodical... mechanical being so far away