Celestia

I could be falling right now. My feet could have already left the ground and I could be falling. Through the air, letting the atmosphere whip around my body. I would crash through the forest canopy. Hitting branches and leaves as I went. I'd choose a few in my decent and I'd build a cushion to make my landing softer. Upon the ground I'd fall and once I was composed I could explore my crash site. Walking up from the crater a great layout of foliage and brick would lay before me. I would walk through the garden, picking flowers along the way for a wreath to wear upon my head. I'd take my feet to the ocean, where it's always cold outside but it's warm to the touch. I'd look at the waves as they called my name. I'd let them crash onto my feet over and over again. Watching as the light reflects off of the surface and forms miniature rainbows. I'd see the moon and the stars in those rainbows and I would be carried outwards into the atmosphere back to where I had fallen from...

Moon Melody

The sun waved goodbye and ducked down below the horizon. In it's place came a glowing silver sliver. The moon sent down a shower of rays and cradled me in it's crescent arms. It sang me a song, a melody. It was off key at times but I loved it all the same. As it sang and held me up so high I looked into it's eyes and saw the ocean waves. The water came in and back out to the sea. I saw the Earth spinning on it's axis and I saw humanity taking new form. They changed the meaning of breathing and for the time that I was safe in the moon's arms I was breathing with them...
...
I woke up the next morning to find my eyes wet. My window was open and the sun was illuminating my room with it's smiling rays. The previous night seemed to have never of happened and what I had saw was a mere image conceived from my mind but what of my tears? Why was I crying?

Where does this put us now?

While eating a red apple on the 3rd of July I accidentally bit off a little more than I could chew. I had swallowed an apple seed. I thought nothing of it so I went to bed that night without worry what might and did occur that night...
While sleeping my dreams were invaded by criss-crossing branches. They spread upwards and outwards and were surging through the crust of the Earth. They shot across the land and the Earth was covered with foliage. Not long after this phenomenon the green lands were teeming with life. All different shapes and sizes roamed the plains and it was then that I saw the circle. Soon after that I could see the pale fleshed humanity walking upright across the ground. They built buildings and formed villages and spread out across the Earth to create diverse races of the pale beings....
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I woke up the next morning with sand in my eyes. I wiped them from my face as I walked to the bathroom. All this while I didn't notice the faint sound of birds chirping from nearby. I brushed my teeth and as I raised my head upwards towards the mirror I saw it. A shrubbery type thing growing right out of my ear. A tree, with branches, leaves and fruit. A crimson sphere hung from a branch. I took said fruit and took a bite out of it. It was an apple and from that apple came more trees and from the trees came beasts of every shape and size and from those beasts came humanity, then civilization, then so on and so on, ect.

Harry & Claire

A porcelain beauty she sat. She stared at nothing but yet she was staring at me. She was content. So pristine she stood from her chair and walked towards the door, reached for the door knob, and walked out of the gaping hole in the wall. She turned back and spoke softly the words I feared she might, "Goodbye, I love you". I stood there and stared at where she once stood. Where she had once said those words. I couldn't speak for weeks. As if the words I wanted to say to make her stay were stuck in my throat. I didn't stop her. I could have...but I didn't. I lost all motivation. I didn't shower, I didn't eat, I didn't drink, and there were entire gaps of time where I would stop breathing as if the words I never spoke were choking me.
...
I moved on eventually. I got a job at the cafe down the road from our...my apartment. I served food to cheerful guests with cheerful smiles and I put a faux cheerful smile on as I greeted each person and gave them their orders. They had no worries. So damn cheerful they were. After work everyday I would walk towards my house. Past the boutiques and the shoe shops. Past the pubs and strip clubs. Past the parks and ponds. I'd stand in front of my apartment door and I'd see the Christmas wreath that she had put there on December 14th, 1984. It's 1986. I open my door and I smell that familiar smell. Her apple scented candles that she loved. I walk to my room and I grab the door knob to the door that she had once touched on the day that she left. I turn the knob and step inside to all the same things in all the wrong places. I shifted everything around after she left so that when I slept I wouldn't be reminded of her. That when my eyes would finally close I would be able to sleep without seeing her face. I would sleep peacefully. I would live in those eight hours of slumber. Then I would wake up the next day and I would go along with how my days always go. The way every dead day of mine goes.
...
Ten years later I write all of this. I'm 33 and I'm still living my dead life to the fullest. I still have the same clothes. The same furniture, the same everything. I haven't changed save the loss of hair and well I got a dog. I named her Bailey. She is my everything. She is always there for me no matter my mood. She perks up her ears when I walk in the door and she is always there to greet me with a cheerful smile. She's given me reason to my dead life.
...
I got a letter the other day from Claire. Oh yeah, that's her name. She's the girl who left and the one who spoke her last leaving words. She's on her death bed. She moved in with her parents after she left and she lived there up till now it seems. She was diagnosed with malignant melanoma a few months ago. Stage IV and the doctor says he can't do anything to help her. Her letter reads as followed.

Hello, I love you.

Harry...I'm really sorry for everything. For the fights that meant nothing. The fits of rage and the broken plates. The hurtful words and everything. I am sorry. I had and have a broken soul and in turn I broke your soul into so many pieces and I'm so sorry. I can't say it enough. I have something to tell you and I'm just going to come out and say it. I have malignant melanoma and I am writing this letter from my death bed. They say they can't do a god damn thing to help me. I'm sure your laughing right now at the this whole thing. Well, at least I hope your not laughing...too hard. I write this letter to you alone because in all these years I've found no one. I've seen no one. No one wants me... Your the only one who would ever put up with me I guess. I hope that you are well and I'm sorry for contacting you after so long. Once again I am sorry for everything.

Dying of cancer,
Claire

...
I somehow found myself beside her, days later in the hospital. Her breathing was shallow and her eyes were sunken in. She was pushing a wagon with square wheels up a hill and she was losing. We didn't say anything. I just sat there and stared at her as she stared at nothing yet she was staring at me. Directly into my soul. It was as if she was attempting to fix what she had broken. Her porcelain skin was blotched with shadows and I could see her slowly slipping away even as I was holding her hand in place. She was so pristine on that day. I was holding onto her hand so tight but she was still able to stand up and walk towards the door. She was still able to reach for the door knob and walk out of the gaping hole in the wall. Even my tears couldn't hold her back. She turned back and spoke softly the words I knew and feared she would, "Goodbye, I love you". I knew I couldn't let her leave this time without me saying my last words. So I raked my brain for the right ones. I ended up with the words that were caught in my throat on that day, "Don't leave me, I love you". Those unspoken words weren't enough for her then and they weren't enough spoken now. She was gone and even as I screamed and sobbed out my eyes, I could feel her in the room. She had left her soul in the doorway.
...
To this day when I walk towards a door I see her. Her smiling pristine smile on that porcelain face. I still live a dead life. I still do the same damn things, though I've learned to do them in different ways. Claire was and always will be apart of me. At least as long as I am close to a doorway.

Humanity; A once breathing race

I wake up from another sleepless night and I look around my room. I see things that don't matter, things that I could do without but still have. I want to shed all non-necessities, walk out my back door, and run head first into the forest in my backyard. I would shed my skin and I would jump from branch to branch spreading my words on the bark of every limb of every tree. I would make a difference out there in that green nothing. I would make heads turn to the right and they would see the Atlantic and to the left the Pacific. They would drop all that they held and they would see what I've seen for years. This could all be done in the wild. The foundation of every nation. We built civilizations on the back of the Earth and this rotating blue and green sphere has been carrying us for years. What happens when it's had enough? What happens if we're thrown off and sent spiraling into the black nothing of space? We'd stop breathing. Humanity is all and a Humanity that isn't one isn't a breathing humanity.

The man with eyes as big as the moon

I am not myself today. It's like my brain has been turned upside down... When I looked at the sparkling glimmering reflection of my face I saw something different. I didn't see the boy who hid behind the Earth's gravity. I saw a man in the puddle of this lake. He stared at me and past my skin into my soul. His eyes searched through my mind, my heart, and my lungs. He kept staring, even as I walked away. Even after returning to my home, walking towards my bed, and hiding under the covers I could still feel his piercing glare. His eyes were the moon and I was the waves washing away at the shore.

Defiant rebels of this thing called gravity

While walking about Earth I could easily walk off the edge of a cliff. I'd fall momentarily of course due to this thing called gravity though after further inspection I could defy all science. I could float upwards into the stratosphere and float alongside the weather balloons. I could soak up the sun's rays from up this high; I could drink in the ocean of warmth that I would feel from being so close to the source of Sunny D. The sky would taste like Citrus punch and have a yellowish shade. I would swim through this veil into tomorrow...I wake up and I realize it's all a dream. Disappointing isn't it?

London; New breathing ground

I want to live in London where the time is always told in black and white and the bustling streets are filled with energy from the passerby of the breathing humanity. These city streets would rule my life and my heart would pulse in unison with the beats of the street. Would my soul be still in intact if I disappeared and joined the herd of British night walkers? I'm afraid of what I might become. Would the rainy weather have an adverse effect on my health? I'm sick of this common breathing pattern. I want my heart to beat faster and my feet to feel new soil. So as soon as I have the cash, I'm gonna hop a plane and hop the border and hop the ocean to my new breathing habitat. I can live on the streets of London until my lungs give way, cave in, collapse and I stop breathing.

Buckle up for safety

I always feel the need to wear a seat belt. To be strapped down and safe is one thing that would help ease my mind. I would have no worries of where I might end up or what I might do. I would just remain stationary. I wouldn't change. I wouldn't feel a thing when I crashed. Laying on top of the torn and bent metal of my automobile. I'd be safe. I need a safety strap to hold me tight and keep me safe from the danger of the dangerous things.

Me; the human

Look into me. See me breath. See me be every little thing I desire to be. My heart pulses and you can see that. You know I'm alive so keep watching. Watch as I turn my head slightly to the right and I become a different person. Watch me adapt to the climate change and see as my hair changes every day to fit my mood. Watch my double edged ways compete for dominance. Watch as I fight with myself daily. Fighting back yesterdays tears and fears. Running from I don't know. Those inconsistent and petty foes. Watch me breath in Oxygen and see me expel carbon dioxide from my lips. It floats up into the atmosphere and becomes one with the planetary sphere. I am one. I am all. I am few and though I may fall I know that I am breathing and I am alive and I am what I want to be. I am human.

About me

I write, explore randomly around the town I live in, and I often forget what I was doing whilst exploring. I stare at the sky, night and day. I kick rocks when I walk. I sometimes miss the mark, trip and fall. I like water. I like calm music. I like loud and rambunctious music. I want to live by the ocean one day, preferably the Pacific. Not in a town or city, maybe a village, but secluded from humanity but close enough to see and touch it. I want to one day own one pair of shoes and live off of what my writing can bring in. I want simple living but be able to explore a elaborate life. I'm rambling on I suppose.

The Great Divide

I used to dwell on the Pacific side. A sea side cottage where I could smell the salty air waft over the land. I was content. I was out one day soaking in the atmosphere when I felt something pulling me to the east. I slipped on my shoes and walked for days, for months, for years. I ended up on the eastern coast staring out at a blue abyss. I stayed there. I built a new cottage. I built a new life, forgetting of my western roots. I was enticed by the new salty air. I lived a happy life up to a point.

My dreams were haunted by a lonely apparition. A boy with drab clothing. He wept as I sat and watched him. Every night it was the same blue boy. Crying. Reaching out to nothing. I approached him one night and it was then that I could see him for who he really was. He had a mess of dark brown hair, hazel eyes that were looking right through you. He wore glasses. He wore the same clothes that I wore. He was me. I noticed a paper tag attached to his wrist. It read "The Northern Pacific cuts across the great divide". I stared into his blank eyes and saw everything that I was. I saw yesterday, today, and tomorrow.

I woke up...in my Norther Pacific cottage. Everything was as it was. My front door was open and I could smell the salty Pacific air. I was home. I was home. I was safe.

You're here when I feel nostalgic

We crossed paths. Across the blurred faces and side winding body figures I saw you. You were wearing that blouse I always hated. The one that made you a conformist. We were always two beings of different paths, destined to walk along the same road, but you conformed and became the straw that broke my back. I was hopeful but now I keep my hopes and dreams in a dirty shoe box, alongside the shoes I used to wear. I saw you, but you didn't see me. I waved my hands in front of your face for hours as you walked. You just kept staring past me, a transparent pane of glass. I kept at your side, keeping the pace...waving my hands. You'll have to stop walking at some point on your new road. I'm pathetic for following and for waving my hands and for hoping and for dreaming and for everything and for being nostalgic. Especially, when a cast aside stone gathers moss and is left and forgotten and green. A cast aside stone along the Atlantic shore. At least I have a view of the water. At least I guess...

Prison

I was arrested and accused and sentenced for a crime I didn't commit. I was thrown behind bars and left to rot and dwell on what I didn't do for years. 20 plus. I lost count. I didn't eat and I didn't sleep. I wrote my story on my cell walls. In vivid ink for the world to see. I listened to the monsters in the cells to my left and right. They drove me to insanity with their yells of insanity. I was on the edge, staring out at the ocean and all I could see was the sea. I was arrested and accused and sentenced for a crime I didn't commit. I spent 20 plus years in a cell staring at the ocean. I was insane. I died in prison.

Rocket ships and heart strings

I'd like to take my heart strings and tie them to a rocket. A voice would storm the cockpit. "10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1, BLAST OFF", and I'd be off. The rocket would take me through the troposphere, the stratosphere, the mesosphere, the thermosphere, and into the exosphere. I'd feel meteoroids whiz past my hair and I would breath in the zero gravity, I'd be weightless. As we flew my heart would root itself into everything within the radius of me. I would spread my love to each nebula of the universe. I'd spread out across the sky and from earth you could see my heart strung out. The sky would be red with love from my heart and I would change the meaning of life. It'd be nice, you know? For this to happen someday. Strung out across the skyline, making things go right.

I hopes

I hoped to play out for her a mystery. To run along beside her and tease her with my scent. I hoped for her to keep running but at some point she tripped and I kept running. I had set up everything. Each trap, trip-wire, and moment of the day so skillfully executed to keep her eye. I was enticing to her senses. I drew out words to string her along a path to understand my games of mystery. I hoped that one day she might catch a word thrown out and cling to it. She might feel the feelings that I felt. She might finally know my name. I hoped.

Going a bit overboard

It's nice to know you never loved me,
it's nice to know that when you hugged me.
You snuck around behind my back,
took out my soul and cut no slack...

and even though I have no fear
I've got some things you need to hear

You were something I held dear,
and I was ready to adhere but
time has changed and you took back
the cigarettes I smoked behind the stack
of human flesh and carnage rights,
I'm glad that this has come to light.

I have changed and so have you,
We've put on completely different shoes.
You've chose your path and I've found mine,
I'm glad and sad you chose to resign but
this is what you have to hear,
the one thing to this I do sure fear.
Is that every night when you thought of me,
you had hatched a plot to make me be,
what you had wanted and what you had needed and
what I am glad was greatly defeated.
This man you wanted that I am not,
is non existent so take that lot
of foolish guy's who might just chase you.
The ones who hope to surely date you.
and crush them up like you did me
and pass the night away so free.

Let out the bad and in the good
and I hope that this is understood.
You are the girl who took my soul,
you snatched it and this I know,
that stealing is a deadly sin,
that he above will apprehend,
you at the gates of this place, then
he'll send you back into the ground to
live forever without a sound,
you'll be forgotten and as your rotting
I do confess that I once loved you...

and even though I have no fear
I've got some things you need to hear

Eleven ands, Four sentences

It seems like my life might have fallen apart a month or so ago or maybe it was never put together. Split apart at odd angles and made that way to create a project for me. I may have to use the help of a a white bull to piece everything ever so carefully together. My life is an art project and I may have been born broken and I may be messed up in every way imaginable and I may have problems and I may be doomed to travel to the Pacific ocean and I may never smell the Western ocean air and I may find myself dead having an out of body experience, looking down on my pathetic crumpled mass and I may be a mess but I hope that with all this pain and heart ache and confusion I find some new things about my self and I hope that I touch or change the life of at least one being of life whether it be my mother and father or a dog just trying to find it's way home.

Home is where my blanket holds me close

I like to hide under the covers of my bed. I curl up and become the armadillo and dig my way into my underground tunnels, my burrows. Elaborate. Twisting. Dirt tunnels built by my hands. A world of hand made rooms and chambers. I hide myself in these spacious dirt cavities and I am at home. I hide bits and pieces of myself sporadically in this home. Each room holds a different chapter or what not or other of me. I do this simply for defense. Much like the leathery hard armor shell that protects me from harm, these rooms filled with my words, my feelings, my fears, my happiness protect me from the outside world. I'm hard to get. You can stare at me for hours and not know or understand what I have said or what I am thinking. I dare you to try. It doesn't matter where my head lies, I will always be sheltered by these tunnels that hold me so closely. I will always be safe at home, wrapped in my bed thinking of new and elaborate ways to fold myself into a curl and hide everything about me.