#1458

If you must go away, at least leave me a trail to follow for the day my heart grows too restless to restrain; breadcrumbs, blood, tears, bullet shells, shards of glass or pieces of the moon, it doesn’t matter what; I’ll know what you have touched, so just leave me something and I will follow the day I can no longer bear to stay behind.

#1455

she says I should write about myself
what I’m feeling, maybe
(what I won’t admit I’m feeling)
but I’m no good at this
I dance around subjects like a fencer
when I should strike
onetwothree
like a boxer
beat them bloody with my fists
curb-stomp their teeth in
and I guess what I’m feeling
is anger
is fear
is helpless
and what I don’t feel is
safe

(but don’t we all?)

I guess what I’m feeling
is angry
angry at a world I can’t trust
angry at a society built to subjugate
everything I am
everything and everyone I hold dear
so angry I want to lash out somehow
brand myself with ink and metal
unleash ghosts, breathe fire
bleed and scream and sing dirges
just fuck shit up, really
and the irony is this fight’s not even the one that hurts

(the most)

because I’m still feinting my blade
see how good I am?
and the real story
the real thing I’m feeling
is as empty as the house I imagine when I look inside myself
and hear
nothing
and see
nothing
and feel
nothing, nothing, NOTHING
because I have been vacated like someone exorcised
and I wonder if they miss the demons, after
the invasive presence
the madness
the companionship

(it’d be something, at least)

(I’d take it)

#1448

If my mind is a house with countless doors down endless hallways, and those doors have always been closed and locked, or maybe just closed and waiting to be nudged open, then now it’s as if every door in every hallway on every floor stands wide. I shrink from these open doorways, fearing what I will see if I creep around their corners; empty drawers, bare windows, layers of undisturbed dust on every surface. My footsteps would echo on hard floors and blank walls with no signs of life to dampen the sound of my passing. At least when the doors were shut I might peep through the keyholes or press my ear to the wood, gleaning in fragments the mysterious lives within. At least when the doors were shut I could wonder at what their locks protected from intrusion – or barred from escape. But open wide like this they hold no wonder and I am only too aware of the vacancies, the silences all around. If my mind is a house with countless doors down endless hallways, then whomever lived in these rooms is gone, vanished, removed.

#1445

I should be writing
…let me check Tumblr real quick
shit, what time is it?

[ Some people have asked if I have a Tumblr - the answer is yes! Only-Fragments is basically a storage place for any images/GIFs/etc that remind me of my characters. An inspiration wall, only online. Feel free to check it out! I have like five followers. ]

#1439

Dear Tanim and Daren,

Yeah. Hi. Remember me? Your faithful, humble scribe? The one who’s devoted her entire existence to chronicling your endless, messed up lives? The one who’s been available to you 24/7/365 for the past twelve years?

Right. That one. Good. Now that I’ve jogged your memory a bit, I just have a quick question for you both…

What. The fuck. Is going on here?

Seriously. Virtually no contact for, what, two months now? Three? What exactly have you been up to in that time? Are you on a fucking vacation or something and just happened to forget to leave a note? I’m not running a shitty poetry blog here; you have to give me something to work with so I can stop vomiting out bad haiku. That’s the deal, isn’t it? You do your thing, fuck or fight or whine, I don’t really care, and I write it all down. That’s the deal.

Let me be straight with you: It is way too fucking hot for you bitchy motherfuckers to go full on radio silence on me. I know it’s always angsty-rain-clouds where you are, but over here we’re having what you call a god dammed heat wave and I am way. too. hot. to keep playing nice.

So here’s what you’re gonna do. You’re gonna get your shit together and start giving me something to write or I swear to every god in the multiverse that I will straight up unleash the insane pirate elf on you. Don’t make me get Mage involved; you know that bitch is just itching for a fight. So do the right thing and nobody gets hurt any more than they respectively enjoy being hurt.

Finally, in closing:

Love,

The Scribe