You’re haunting my dreams – why? Punishing lover, unattainable father, breaker of teacups and chooser of cliffs, why do you seek me? I’m not sure if you’re a snake or a hunting cat; I’m not sure if you have something to tell me or if your presence alone is the message. If so, who sent you? What am I supposed to glean from dreams of love and loss and jealousy all mixed together and tidal strong? You could be either of Them, your love burning hot as the sun and mind calculating cold as the moon – or perhaps both in one tailored human skin. Is that it, then? Have They chosen you as messenger and metaphor? Do They enjoy the parallels between Their story and yours? Speak to me, monster, messenger. I do not fear you. I know you as I know Them, and I am not afraid to drop the teacup and see if it will put itself back together.



white-lipped, look away as you pass
because that girl who kissed you in the dark
won’t acknowledge you out here in the light;
a swan flocked by peacocks,
her smile isn’t for you and never was
though you ate its lies like chocolates
guilty, greedy, grasping at hope;
you may not feel right in lace
and you sure can lay them all out with a punch
but she needs a pretty boy, not a handsome girl;
you can make a fool of yourself if you want,
break their fingers while they break your psyche,
but that won’t change her mind
only prove the rest of them right;
so white-lipped, look away as you pass,
don’t give them the satisfaction;
head high, look straight as you pass
and wait ’til you reach the shadows to collapse;
don’t show them weakness –
those pretty wolves in pretty dresses will eat you alive
and your swan won’t lift a feather


Beware the universes into which you may wander, Alice Worldspanner. I have seen the possibilities of them, and they are terrifying. I have seen the Great War, all of us standing side by side for once, and I have seen every one of us fall. Wreckage of ships and bodies, spills of blood and ink. The ocean is wide enough and deep enough, and it will be our graveyard. Should you pass into this universe, who knows if you might ever step out again? Even dreamdeath fragments us, and in just the viewing I feel a new absence in myself. Beware, explorer. Beware, seeker. Some doors should stay closed.


it seems these days I just want the dark, the dark and the silence, to curl inward until I am small and round and impenetrable, until my back doesn’t hurt anymore, my arms don’t hurt, my head doesn’t hurt, my heart doesn’t hurt, so many things hurt and nothing seems to touch any of them, not Imitrex or Advil or wrist braces like gauntlets on my arms, only the dark and the silence soothe, only in sleep am I someone who moves without pain, who flies over canyons or swims through oceans, through magma, who bends fire and water and earth, and for every dimension and law of physics I control in my dreams there is another thing uncontrollable when I wake, I doubt that’s irony but it’s cruel anyway