Living In An Anxious Mind, I Know Fear Intimately, I Know Nervousness Like A Favorite Cousin-always Sitting

I feel the grating fingernails of progress on my tender skin, and wonder how it lead us here. To desolation, destruction. We were supposed to be better, stronger, kinder. But instead we are are weaker, crueler and so poignantly and horribly worse.

How disappointing that evolution does not promise improvement, only difference.

The candyfolk though sweet in stature were bitter hearted, something was very rotten about them. Though that didn’t stop them from whittling each other down with their tongues. Hungry, constantly. This place I’ve fallen into, it must be hell. Or if they taste well enough, a very brief heaven, and then purgatory.

Why do I crave love so much that I lie to get it. I dawn facades to taste sugar with a tongue that is not mine. Is it still sweet? Is anything truly my own?

What is there to do but wait for everything to come crashing down in a sudden cold splendor, and remove the sand from beneath my feet.

Twilight miss me when I’m gone, bleed my shadow ‘til it’s grown.

Light don’t follow where I go, my face anew you’ll never know.

If you want to know what someone wants, watch what they give away. Love, time, compliments. People think others yearn the same way they do, and they reveal themselves in these little interactions; the way daylight escapes blinds midday.

Why are people so cruel to you when you just want to make them laugh? Can’t you see that I love you, that I want nothing but light things floated your way? What have I done to warrant your biting criticisms when all I ever wanted was your attention?

-Confessions of a Jester

Maybe I am not good enough for most things, and I am meant only to look at all I want and yearn so deeply that my body begins to die.

I need a new wardrobe—I’m running out of time to be young and beautiful. For people to see me and not just look at me out of some mundane politeness. I need to be everything I am right now in these fleeting moments, or it’s like they’ve already gone.

Why can’t you let me have anything? Why can’t you let me have anything? I ask the mirror.

The girl in it is too busy weeping to answer.