Glitter and Bone

I briefly held a hand. Its fuel half innocent, half iridescent butterflies. The easiest thing to be displaced by my hands are butterflies.

It is a restless night, but the war has not yet hit. So it is restless and carefree. An appreciation hard to hold in the current, restless hour. A dandelion fluff for angels to hold, not me. I displace the air here.

All that to say, I want my Zzzzzzzzz’s please.

Broken light wants your attention, devotion and then your blood.

Mental parasites born of expectation, lean outside the natural moment, pulling me to do the same. And the parasite, having no finger prints, leave none. Only mine are left behind, trading the beauty and elasticity of the natural moment for a clumsy and brittle artificial one. Feeding off the future like a wraith, an unqualified conductor before the orchestra of this world. I can be a silly eel.

Royality pulls its steps. It walks here like a man walks in a haunted house.

If crowns are to be given at the end of this age, that is none of my business while I’m on this wet planet. Holding the promise of such a crown here, is to introduce my dirty wet fingerprints on a promise.

There are days that I am disappointed that the natural world does not react in the haunted way I think it should.

My Creator speaks but doesn’t seem to give two figs at the space between the words or that I would create fairy tales in that space.

My ceiling is not quiet tonight. It has become rain.

Today someone thought that I was 23 when I am not 23.

A thing is soon to end. It is both a shadow and a leash, draconian and clumsy. I will smile at its end.

In order to keep up in any conversation, I have to forfeit any filter. Forgoing this end step gives the illusion that I am sharp and witty. It has a robust success rate but when it fails, I look like an absolute eel.