Last goodbyes. Sun warmed grass and sun warmed earth, freshly turned. Love and laughter and light streaming down through the trees and I think that life is so precious today. Today, every day, goodbye to you today.

just finished golden son after months of procrastination and just. WHAT.

Can you love me? I am aching to be loved by you, though I know that your love is so cold. But I need to be loved by you or else I can’t see anything good about trudging on. I close my eyes at night and they open the next morning. I wonder if I will go to heaven or if my sins are so damning as to keep me from. I wonder if my fight in life is the weight in my chest that swells and consumes and convinces me that all the happy times were untrue. Not because they didn’t happen, but because they didn’t make an impression enough to change me. I am still the same. Nonetheless, can you find it within yourself to love me?

Oh, but I’m so tired of this charade. I stare at a blank page and no words will come but these ones. Melancholy disposition. I have found joy and I hold it so dearly. It is so precious. Because it inevitably fades to black. Swallowing. All encompassing. And as I’m slowly drowned I think of the happy moments, and how must they have been true when I’m like this. But the dark eats me. I come back unharmed to be consumed again. I don’t see slivers of light but I know they must be there, shining. And that’s enough for me to come back to life.

Can I have a dance. Can I laugh and turn in circles so that I get dizzy and just have to sit down, mind reeling from the euphoria and drunkenness of for once, being happy. Because why is it so hard, when I have everything. To be happy. Why is there a weight within me that gets lighter but never goes away. A pull to the sadness, magnetically linked. To which I say, I laugh and it is sad, can we dance? There’s two of us, can we keep each other company? Me and my sorrow that stems from nowhere but whose presence is unquestionable. If you must stay, can you at least let me be happy?

there’s a hollowness to you. Edges fraying. I ask, what is your name, squint, forget my question. It’s like you’re not even there. Clinging to the bounds of this life. I tell you to go home. I release you. Into a place so unlike our own. You will get your ending. You will smell your roses. Loops of time. Laughs and smiles. Forever golden hour. Just close your eyes, -. You will be free.

I hold this dream in my hands. It is a fragile thing, breaking out of me. Crack in my chest where it spun forth from. I see it in hologram form. It is still intangible. I’m scared this dream will disappear. It’s taken so long to draw it out. To see it. To believe it can be. This dream keeps me alive when the night is dark. Keeps me hoping. One day my dream will come true. If I can hold it steady. Not allow it to flicker out. But when that day comes,

But there’s so little left of me, underneath this skin. I cling to the remainder of my dreams. Mulch turned over by worms tunneling through the black earth. Half buried, I lay. My face is turned to the sun, underneath this skin which blocks out the light. How did I let others steer me this way? How did I erode. And now I dream in the black earth. Turned over by worms. Tunneling. I sink in this mire and I cling to my dreams, but there’s so little left of me.

At the mouth of the cave, there is light. A single ray unraveling. It falls on flowers, but we do not know flowers. It pools on grass, but we cannot smell grass. It sears through cloud, but we do not know warmth. It shines through rain, but we have no sense of that arc traversing the sky in multi chrome. We do not see color. We do not hear the sound of wind chimes. Feel the rustle of a breeze through our hair. But one day, there is light. And we do not know about the day. Because all that we’ve sensed has been the dark. But now we see light at the mouth of the cave.

I don’t think you realize how hard it is to inhabit two worlds so completely that when you’re in one the other seems like an implausibility. How could I have been so happy just minutes prior? This heavy feeling weighs on me from all angles. But from the other side my depression seems like a whim, a passing, flighty thing. A fiction, a made-up weakness I harbor because I’m not strong enough, it isn’t so bad, why are you making such a big deal? I cannot reconcile these two worlds. I cannot find the interim. I can only hold my head in my hands through the dark cold nights, waiting for morning and the sun to shine.

We lay in the interim. The space between dreams that convinces you of past lives and forgotten memories. The sense that there are layers to your being in a liminal space unexplored. We whisper to you facts and fictions from our place in the abyss. We call out the ugliness of our earth. We are villains in your story but we are only trying to help you survive. This is the only way we know how.

But one day you will venture out to the castle. Where the wind shakes the trees of their wisdom and secrets. Where the tulips bloom resplendently, dignified to the very end of their lives. Where bluebells chime and nameless flowers too. Buttercups creep, butterflies flit and bumblebees hover in the chilled air. A nature’s paradise is a cocoon. And we could never dream to accomplish what it has. The healing of a soul fragmented. And though clouds darken and whittle you away with the cold, one truth reigns supreme. You will be free, you will be free, you will be free.

Cover of Jugend Magazine by Robert Engels (Oct. 1896)

I guess I’m looking for a dream. Heedless, cloud searching traveler with only the cavern to avoid and the sun to find. How I missed that sunlight on my cheeks. Eyes closed soaking, hoping to get kissed by rays.

Why can’t I fight anymore? So hopeless. These chains dragging me down were created by my own mind. Now we wither like flowers.

How to love, or how will I love you? arc as you shield me from wrath, shield me from wrath, beloved heart.

There were clouds too in that sky- could you believe I saw you too? Hiding amongst bluebells, eerie call: “will you love me?”

From memory I sang in this good deep earth, notes that peal and wring their hands, desperate dreamer, earth sleeper, I made a bed in the waves and I made it my grave, and when there was no space left to cry, I died.

and I ask you, what are your dreams, dream catcher? Deep in the blue, Warmth of the sun, trickling, through depths, something Beautiful lives here, a soul or many, perished, yet waiting to be reborn.

There’s a world for us to love, my love.

the sword of kaigen fanart cuz there's not enough of it on the web

So this is love mmm 🎶