two

1. take my cold
pale
blue hands.
warm them up for me.
hold them in your own.
they need life, need warmth.
please, won't you take them?
if you don't, they'll die.
here, please.
please.
take them!
why won't you?
my hands are dying of cold.
take my hands!
please!
i beg of you!

2. what of the invisible girl?
there is no girl there.

i am the invisible girl.

as i step out the door,
the rain starts to pour.
you pass by in a slicker,
glance couldn't be quicker.

why am i the invisible girl?

as i reach out my hand,
her mind has been banned.
i wish to help her see,
but she has no use of me.

----------------------------------
two things stuck in my mind.
two poems emerged.

three

1. thoughts fly
from your mind
to mine.
blink of an eye.

2. how did you know?
know all about me?
before i said a word,
before you said a word,
know all about you?
how did i know?

3. half of my body paralyzed,
the half of the brain is sterilized,
nothing is there but gray and gray,
my thoughts always stop halfway.

you let that side unwind,
you've become that half of mind,
now i can move with speed and grace,
you and i have found our place.

nonexistent flames

i took the fire
and threw it away.

took your flames,
and pushed them aside.

pitched in with the rubbish,
your fire soon will die.
the fumes of death
kill all oxygen.

so let that fire die,
along with all the other
useless
worthless
waste.

and i will never go back
to those piles of rot
to search for it.

-------------
i threw away a fake plastic candle flame,
and i wrote this.

A Story.

Blindfolded, she stood in front of the firing squad. For a crime unknown to the bystanders, she was to be publicly executed. She was a strong, talented girl, a talented fighter. Nobody understood why she was supposed to die. A few of the younger children who had befriended her these past few years whimpered, clutching their mothers’ hands.

She was allowed to wear whatever she wanted for her death —her simple white dress that she always wore gently flowed in the breeze. She was allowed to eat anything she wanted before she died –she chose a small meal of bread and fruit. She was allowed to contact anybody she needed before the event—she spoke to nobody. She was allowed to pray to God before judgment—she prayed to nothing.

She stood with her long blonde hair down, some of it wafting in front of her blindfolded eyes. Her back was straight, feet firmly planted on the ground, hands relaxed at her sides. She was standing with her back to a gray brick wall, standing in the middle of the execution field—a circular plot of dirt surrounded by chain-link fences topped with barbed wire. On the inside of this barrier were the five executioners and she, on the outside stood the entire town. Except for their leader, who stood at his window in his tower above all the people, silently watching. The sun shone with a terrible brilliancy that seemed to mock the somber affair.

The squad captain shouted his ready command. The executioners steadied their guns, the mass of people visibly tensed. The children, sensing discomfort from the adults, huddled closer. There was no sound except for the gentle flapping of the girl’s white dress blowing in the wind. The second ready command from the captain had the squad cock their guns, the loud clack of the bullet entering the barrel causing a few in the crowd to jump.

A woman buried her face into her husband’s chest, unable to watch any further. A small child broke the silence with a solitary wail, quickly silenced by his mother. Watching eyes were all wide open, not wanting to miss anything.

A small smile played across the girl’s face.

The captain gave the order to fire.

All five guns, aimed at five vital points, fired simultaneously.

But the girl didn’t die.

The universal sound barrier suddenly dropped, all voices yelled, people roughly shook the fence, crowding up against one another to see what had happened.

In the blink of an eye, her lover had appeared in front of the bullets, taking all five shots, dying immediately. His body was spread-eagled on the ground, broken, bleeding, dead. His eyes were wide open, but his face had a feeling of calmness, of relaxation.

The throng of people suddenly quieted as a small clack was heard from inside the execution field. As the squad captain walked towards the girl, he was loading his pistol.

Knowing she was supposed to die and hadn’t, she tore off her white blindfold, a last look of anguish she directed to his body on the dirt. Still standing erect, she shook out her hair, looking straight into the eyes of the approaching captain, her face glowing with an unimaginable look of disgust and fury on her face. The only noise was the sound of the man’s boots hitting the dirt with each step. When he stopped an arm’s length from the girl, there was once again the uncomfortable, pressing silence. He raised his gun to her forehead.

Her face was then calm, her wide eyes never daring to look away from his. Another small smile emerged as the tears she had never shed suddenly streamed down her face.

With the shot, her head flew backwards, blood and brain blasting out the back of her skull. From his lofty perch, the leader sneered down at the scene.

“Killed two birds with one stone.”

--------------

i've had this in my head since last night...

its more epic in my mind, haha.

but that's okay.

distance.

fear is what feeds my appetite.

i yearn for you.

yearn to know
how it feels
to collapse


in your strong arms.
yearn to know
who you are.

the stranger.
or am i the stranger?

i fear we will never meet.
and that fear feeds me.
keeps me heavy and dense.

don't let me fear,
let me shrivel up and starve without my
sustenance,
die,
and vanish.

as long as i was with you,
i wouldn't mind.

------------------
help me find my stranger.