I.
There are a dozen devils dancing around this neon fire. They cling to me like dampened leaves, but things aren’t always as they seem. I accept fate as twisted dreams and learn to let each go. What’s yours won’t run away. I submerge the pen in ink and follow each one into flame. Will I finally be happy if they know my name? (Someone has written that before.) So I fill the empty space, don’t let it go to waste. “Your words will change the world one day”; I want it all to mean something, but sometimes it doesn’t. “And when you find what you are looking for you must remember to thank me.” But when the rain came it took away the pain, and I was left with a barren page—
II.
So I collect cliches. Crystal clear streams savored in bioluminescent bottles, shattered at the touch. Birds as omens; counting the ravens and crows, deciding which is the friend and who are the foes. I’ll see you after we incarnate.
Commentaires