Vivianesection

Promise me something: don't let go of the string I know you hate it and that you can go higher the stratosphere is no place to go if you want to come back in one piece and it's lonely and cold and you'd freeze --- But I'd like to see the world from a point that little before me have seen and forests and oceans and souls will be there waiting for me so let me go let me rise let me fly The tether's so fragile I wish it would break and I'd die

It does not care It does not do to cry You are inane from head to toe, a stupid thing And jaded or naive whichever's worst you have no worth and souls are just a rumor and if God, if He exists is ashamed of you and made a mistake So please be silent and do not try to let us fill this empty thing that you are made of that you have hated that you stuff with meat and confetti and which is just like mine

inside the blur between two edges my flesh is melted stripped from bone contradiction is like acid and I dissolve in my own conflicts stuck between emaciate and bloat so I overdose on dreams that would perhaps keep me company before they pick me clean and leave an imperfect skeleton

These hands that make the poison run will tear the roots from doubt and fear and rend apart themselves in maddened greed too much to bear It gorges on corruption, his dry heart These eyes that once beheld the world as it was spread before them like a lavish feast to savor, crush and swallow every bit He shook with want of neither man nor beast In coldest ash a fiery spark is found on which the boldest soul may dare to blow and as day is to night the spark is bound by this soft breath to either die or grow He fell so far that seeing his damnation he may believe that end to be salvation

Of dreams I keep the fondest memories of things so sweet they hurt the heart to see of nightmares absurdly more scared of me than I, of them, would ever dare to be But wakefulness brings with it greater fears of shadows pure as tar and windowless that won't let me escape, and can you guess? No sweetness in the world would fix this mess I light with shaking hands a brazen blaze to drive away the shadows, but the smoke fills up my throat and heart, and since I woke the words have filled my mouth and made me choke Half drowned in dreams I reach the paper-shore my lungs spill ink where marks were made before

Her eyes too tightly closed to see the sky that flakes where once the white-hot sun hung high but dripped like melting wax beyond the line that pulled out of her reach the searing shine For farther will she reach with blistered hands then farther fall from whence she climbed, the place that loses substance as she slips and lands her disbelief is writ, then, on her face that sun could ever reach her where she stands the burns that she can feel must surely be a fiction born from desp'rate hope that she might feel, and this is why she feels these brands And on her ascent as she sees it all her shadowed place does ever seem so small