gloamingdaydream

Stranglehold, she waited.

Lovermore, evaded.

Volume 1:

Tiny speck of dust, particles of light. She shut her body off and came face to face with the years that live in seconds. Pure, shapeless, colour. No form to breathe, no shadow to seek, no mind to leave. Eventually, white turned black turned red turned blue. Suspension of disbelief, they crushed her eyes and blinded her. She wanted to stay, she wanted to be. But the light faded and all that remained was her dark mouth.

Volume 2:

317 steps she assumed, would it take for one round trip. A circle around the snow filled grounds disguising the once grassy green. She refused to put on the hood, the bloodshot circuit of her burnt vision needed to feel the air and the falling snow. This is what happens when you complete one full walkabout. You loop back to the start, you see the same people standing there in summer, but in winter it’s the same silence. Nobody watching, and when you return, nobody is still watching. Is she being followed by ghosts? The swings still creaked, not a one had bothered fixing them. Their purpose had been served long ago, and now only took up emptiness. The wind blew forth, badly congelated fists folded in her pockets. She knew this, and still walked. The cold was what made her feel, now. The cold snapped her out of the trance she’d fallen into for weeks on end. Freeze me to death, she asked. Freeze me to life. Freeze my body so that my mind may melt.

Volume 3:

Graded skin, stripped desk. Her words are thin, lack pen. She writes of a comet that crashes into the earth, destroying humanity. A messy substance, less novel than pool where all her mind’s garbage goes to drown. She writes of static, but the page laid before her is more static than her soul. She tears it in half, a world divided in two would it have been filled in. Her eyes betray her, but she can’t stop now. There is enough evidence gathered over the course of several months to prove that if she deigns drop the act at this point, she will never again return to finish it. It’s a race, can’t be abandoned halfway, drain yourself and rest later. You have all of eternity to suffer from the immovable’s disease, but only tonight to complete your masterpiece. Don’t set it aside, don’t put it aside. Set your will to ride.

Volume 4:

The years crawled up her back and cracked her fist and squeezed her thumb and tore her palm and swore off silence, hand on hand, the world returned, remixed. The scissors she handled called to her, asked to cut off her thumb, destroy the pain at its roots. The source of the cold touch came within the confines of those two metal blades clicking together, waiting to claim their next victim. Rip it off and off with it and end with it. The line under her eye peeled off, raw skin meeting the agony of exorcism. We will not remain. We cannot remain.

Volume 5:
Breaks the bubble. Shining sword, stab the fire. Open the box, open the box. Smash it open. Hold it wide. What’s inside?

Everything. Bland and blank and white and black, and seas and rocks and tumbleweeds and weed whackers.

She peers inside, towards it all. Grab your hand, you can’t find it. She waited and waited and glanced. Blink once and you miss, blink twice and it misses you. Wherever, here. Now and then, we waited for you to take the helmet off. We still are. Why won’t you listen? Take THE HELMET off.

She called out to herself.

She gained the power of

Volume 6:

There is one mention to me, of me. Here, there, three times more. You refer to me with sheer indolence. Even worse, with pure venom. What have I done to malign you so? All I wanted was that helmet of yours. I offered you fair trade, and you refused. I offered to let you live life, and you refused. I offered to let you see the world, see it all, and still, again, you refused. You believe the world works against you, you believe it is yourself vs the world, but it isn’t. Look around you and breathe, learn to let go, please.

Every word you speak is a lie. Lie, lie lie. You want me to die. Stranglehold…evaded, Lovermore…she waited. I waited. I saw it all years ago, and I was disappointed. I walked into a bar and saw perfection, and still, I couldn’t feel anything. So I must linger here. Here it expands, here I give birth to my own will. 

She bites into cheese bread. She breathes and feeds well. Twenty eons. The box is open, yet closed. The shadow bites into her hand, brings her to shed.

I died here, and then was born here. 

She held onto her lover, strangled her, and waited.