h4b1torr4bb1t

[h4b1torr4bb1t]

poltergeists

the veil is just that, a veil

not a barrier, but an obscuration

how many times have you found,

that an item is not where you left it?

again and again this cycle repeats 

where are my keys, where are my shoes

never ever managing to see the truth,

they were not where you left them?

the veil is thin, that’s the point

or would it not be a veil but a wall,

yet still, the thin veneer works,

despite their frantic desperation,

you never managed to see them at all

[h4b1torr4bb1t]

i am asphodel and i am the storm. i am saturnine gray and all those little things that are so far away. i am as untouchable as the clouds and as cold as flowers. i will never die. all those rich, jewel bright colors are so beautiful. but they hurt my eyes. i am not of them not for them not with them. like pigeon feathers and concrete. brittle stone and malleable metal. but even metal fatigues and snaps. gray is gray days gray doves gray is dull. they don’t like gray. i don’t know if i like gray. but i am of gray days for gray doves with dull dull gray. even the word is ugly. like a gray donkey’s bray. ash and lead and nondescript. burnt out poison lingering where the other colors once were. gray endures. can only endure and hide and flee. gray is wolf pelt and storm struck. change is coming change is here it cannot be endured nor fled from nor hidden from. the tower must come crumbling down like all those cards falling off the table. gray is mutable. surrounded by another color gray looks like it’s antithesis. gray is always the enemy. the faceless graceless invisible figure who haunts your every waking moment and every dream turned nightmare. gray is always following behind drifting aimless drifting away. gray gray trash caught in the waves, washing further and further from shore. for gray is never and always the same. always and never changes. gray is gray and gray things will always never never always be the same and different. and yet still i pine for that incandescent moment. the forge burns and it hurts but gray stone and gray metal melt and become red yellow white and all those colors that are not gray. but then it cools it fades. and gray is gray is gray.

[h4b1torr4bb1t]

time. it rushes past me like water. everything around me is always changing. growing. yet i am not. no matter how i may cling to what is, cup it in my hands and pray that it stays there, it always is gone by the time i look back. every moment of my existence everything changes around me. but i am the same. i cannot keep up with it. this world has left me behind a long time ago. i no longer belong here. yet here i am.

i sometimes wish that i could grow alongside all the plants and strange creatures which i observe, but i have come to accept that my place is to be ever on the outside looking in. i do not grow. i do not change. i am simply not like them, no matter how much i want to be. 

but that is alright, in the end. i understand that even while i envy these small beings, how different their view must be from mine, how much more interesting, that i am what i am. and that my existence can be just as beautiful as theirs, even though envy continues to beat its velvet wings in my chest, gnawing and gnawing at me. i understand that i am lucky to be able to read the messages that are written out for me, what the world whispers in gentle fractals and spirals. we are loved. we are love itself. and i am not alone in seeing these things. it is impossible to truly express the message in human words, but sometimes i look upon an art piece or a poem and i just know that they get it. they see it too. we are not alone. written out in the patterns of branches and roots and nerves, there is endless love. there is endless support. a gentle persistent murmur of i love you i love you i love you. this explanation is not enough. but i know that i cannot express how deeply this whispering runs, nor exactly what it says. words are simply not enough for that. just, one day, look at the world, in all of its vastness and insignificance. look at the trees and the clouds and the water. listen for a while. maybe you’ll hear it too. i hope you will. everyone deserves to know just how deeply a universe loves. just how beautiful it all is. just how insignificant it is in the end.

i know that i’ll have to see it all die one day. for the last of these beautiful creatures to rot and crumble away. but that is far away for now. and perhaps another day, far beyond that one, i’ll get to see the first of something new once again. something else that will grow and change and age and do all of those little beautiful things that i cannot. and i will not be alone. 

perhaps there are others like me, LED lights among fireflies. quartz among ice. but even those metaphors do not fully explain it. even those things are able to crumble. to rust and erode and change. but i cannot. i am all things that are forever. and so i am nothing at all. and i envy you. for you are something. you are beautiful. you can grow and change and do so many things which i will never be able to. you are truly alive in a sense that i will never be able to achieve. or perhaps in a way that i once did, but no longer. i cannot recall. 

it’s blurry, to be like this. all hazy and fuzzy and i can’t even think. it’s all cotton soft fog inside my head. it’s comforting, yes, but it’s also boring. dull. not like your existence, full of feeling and love and hate and color. i envy that. your ability to feel more than fleetingly. your ability to love and hate. your vibrance. perhaps one day you’ll find yourself having become like me. and i hope that you’ll remember what it feels like to feel. for i do not. just like time no matter how i cling to what fragments of emotion i still have, they still fade away like the last hints of sunlight in the evening. they pull away from me like yet more seafoam around my ankles.

it is not really an empty feeling. it’s more just flat placidness. something soft and comfortable and oh so boring. i wish i could hate it. but i do not have that capability. i am nothing at all. 

so here i am telling sulky little stories. hoping that someone somewhere is listening. that they’ll get it. that i am not alone. and they will know that they are loved. that no matter how harsh and cruel the world may be that they are loved, and hopefully still that that is enough.