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“It really was kind of the moon to shine on me, too,”

— Franz Kafka, from The Complete Stories; “Description of A Struggle,”

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soft touch, hard gaze

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What do you see in me?

A golden heart as sweet as honey?

Do you taste sugar, and sweet cherry wine off my lips?

Is that your image?

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I said I love you.

You told me it was okay to say it…

The words were right on the tip of my tongue…but I could barely make them leave my mouth.

I love you.

The three most horrifying words to ever hang from my lips.

Three words that lingered.

And resonated.

The taste sits on my tongue still, 11 hours later.

I said I wasn’t afraid, but that’s a lie.

Falling with me is a gamble, and I’ve never been a safe bet…place yours wisely.

I’ve been broken and shattered and used. I’ve given up lovers, and friends, I’ve been surrounded by death my whole life.

I dont want to poison you.

She called me a black widow.

I kill everything I love, or leave you wishing you were dead.

I always run, and no one ever chases me fast enough because I never let them keep up. I’m always one step ahead.

I blame it on trauma.

Maybe it’s just fear.

Whenever I’m gone I rip a hole in your heart that never feels patched right, no matter how big of a bandaid you place on it.

Stuff it with gauze, to soak up the blood and infectious waste.

But the memory of me dissolves into your bloodstream instead. I’ll infiltrate your system like heroin in your veins.

Water flooding pipes.

Wind whistling through caverns, fierce and loud.

Cigarette burns in your soul, empty holes.

I dont want to eat you whole. I don’t want to leave you burnt, soaked, and wasted.

Maybe this is how I love.

Maybe I’m afraid of loving you because I’m the monster I swore d I’d never be.

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I only wish you could have loved me.

You’ll never be a bore.

I wanted to give you my heart, but felt I only wasted my time.

Trying to get the girl of my dreams.

I wrote you a letter, I still carry it with me every day…i tried to give it to you that last time, but you were already gone away…

I didn’t hear anything for days…days became weeks…weeks became a month. I postponed moving away, because I thought I could have you…finally.

Should I stay or should I go?

Impossible girl, I adore you so.

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…ah, fuck

…i wish I could wash my heart clean.

But it’s too dirty.

I probably wouldn’t have been good enough for you anyways. But damn, I would’ve always tried.

Flowers.

I would have picked you a billion flowers.

One for every ounce of beauty that I see in you.

If I was broke, I’d go neighborhood to neighborhood, finding colors I think you’d like.

Poems.

I would write you poems. Even though there aren’t enough words to possibly describe how I felt about you. I’m a poet by nature, I feel everything too deeply.

I’m so used to white cups full of sprite and promethazine, but I wanted to give it up, because you were just my cup of tea.

Adventures.

I dreamt of your starry eyes in city lights, unable to keep my gaze off of your beautiful face lighting up. Feeling as though you’ve found yourself again.

I remember my moment like that. I remember my moment, where I let the fear go, like it was only yesterday.

I wanted to help you dust off those old switches, and flip them back on.

The Doctor.

That’s what they call me.

Lonely woman in her blue box.

I would show you impossible things, my magic, my mind…

Maybe it’s best though…

Maybe I would only scare you away anyways.

Maybe I did.

I’m sorry.

The Doctor.

Still missing my Rose Tyler.

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Horror stories???

“How disgusting.”

I spat on the pavement, hands in my pockets.

I was looking at the backside of a man, maybe mid 20s. This guy was the posterchild for “Douchebag Magazine.” He had a tribal tattoo that wrapped all the way around his balloon-like bicep, tight jeans with bedazzled designs on each pocket, and a t-shirt that must’ve cost atleast 75 bucks.

Materialistic human waste. There’s nothing inside those people. They’re blowup dolls with half a brain.

Bits and pieces of his cell phone conversation carried over the wind.

“Then she smacked me in the face, yeah man she totally wants me!”

I rolled my eyes. What a shame, people like that shouldn’t procreate.

I broke off the busy city street and ducked into the alleyway.

The streetlight was busted, there was no way anyone would notice anything. I felt around the cold stone wall for a ladder and began hoisting myself up to the top of the building.

God’s eye view of the greatest show on Earth.

One phone call.

7 minutes.

I took a deep breath and lit a cigarette.

I started to speak, but who would I even be speaking too? God? The lonely night sky?

Is there a difference between the two?

I laid back and stared off to the stars. Is there life after death? Does it matter? Will God even want any of us after all the shit humans have caused? Are we his unwanted children?

“If God is present, I’m your DIY do-over button.”

Inhale chemical reaction.

Exhale apathy.

My phone rings.

“All set for independence day?”

“We’re happy Captain, it’s your call now.”

I smiled, chuckled a bit to myself and took a drag off my cigarette.

You can’t spell slaughter, without laughter.

“…pour it out boys.”

I hung up.

5 minutes.

The homeless man on the street and I are the same man. The woman who shot her kids, we are the same. The rapist, the gangbanger, even the filthy fucking Nazi.

4 minutes.

I smile wider.

It’s finally come full circle.

I can finally show the whole world, that when you let go of fear, death is child’s play.

3.

I stand up.

2.

Inhale.

1.

Rubble comes flying in all directions, the center of the Bank of America sprawling out into a massive cloud of what once was. People fleeing in all directions, massive rocks landing on and smashing vehicles with people inside them.

Cash comes raining from the sky, the people are in absolute mass panic on the streets.

I unfold my arms to the sky, shut my eyes and cry. A whole Symphony of screaming and the sounds of chaos in despair, like a glorious composition written for me.

Another bomb goes off, more smoke billows into the sky as the people begin rioting in the streets, fighting and beating eachother over the 20s and 100s raining from the sky. Massive pieces of drywall come crashing down into crowds them.

I screamed out to the heavens “KILLING FOR GOLD IS POINTLESS, DO YOU NOT SEE IT? LET GO OF YOUR FEAR YOU MINDLESS FUCKS.”

I fell to my knees weeping.

Why are they still so blind? Was it for nothing? Was it all for nothing?

There was a heavy sound beneath me. I clung to the pavement to keep from falling off the edge.

Time stopped for a moment.

They had just blow out the core of the building.

I stopped weeping, and sat cross legged on the ground. I shut my eyes, and smiled.

“I hope you’re waiting for me God. I’ve got a bone to pick with you.”

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