a chapter book by i.m

we wanted to be the sky, but

the heavens are already so crowded.

gravity and nebulas and religion and superstition to the point

where there would be no room for a mortal to dine.

here's for another perspective:

the world should take a idea from stephen king and

throw up a dome between the winners and them.

but all gladiators, all victorious warriors lose at some point.

the world cannot be built from cute iPhone cases,

20% off sales,

and a muttered discussion behind closed doors,

but the modern world gives it a valiant effort.

the same world that confuses reality with copyright,

warzones and a debate on oppression and privilege that should have been

over a millennia or seven ago,

and called life a blessing and a curse both in the same bottle.

but it is also the same world of a half forgotten optimism,

of kids in hats smiling at blurry pictures that captured their bursts of energy,

and their days when semper ad meliora and dum vivimus, vivamus were

a battle cry that fell from gentle lips.

proud without being arrogant,

passionate without being cruel,

gentle without being naive,

young and forgotten.

i did suffer from a lack of - something.

(and there is no coming back from it.)

(i think.)

καλὴ τύχη.

maybe even the devil wants it all to stop.

maybe it hurt when he replaced feather-light wings with ichor that burnt

more than a little like fear and pain and guilt and pride and love and support. 

tell me, when did chastity become a blend of sugar and sin?

love is kind, love is a cruel; love is a cold requirement of warmth.

there is something in your throat about how you can't change legends,

but it's trapped.

it's also bound in with i'm sorry and i love you, but they've always been there.

(i don't want to sleep forever; i want to live forever)