My looks

You disapprove of my looks. They anger you. They threaten the false reality you’ve built for yourself – a small cocoon to feel safe away from logic or thought or questioning. Now my looks, those of an outsider, threaten this thin pathetic spiderweb that wraps your world – and you hate me for it.

You judge me – and judge me fallen, lost, worthless. For my looks. I’m a heathen in your book – that book of judgement  written by years of crusty prejudices. I must be evil, I must be bad influence, I must be trouble waiting to happen. For my looks. In your world, everything is exactly as it seems, and I seem unworthy. For my looks.

Like a creeping, black disease, you worry I will infect your world. If you let the likes of me in, you’ll never get us out again. We spread like vermin. you cut one down two spring up. We stink the place with our looks. We poison the translucency with our looks. Nothing will ever be the same again because of our looks.

Beyond my looks, which you hate, lies nothing. You cannot see anything but a barren wasteland. To you, I’m the sum of my looks – which is a nothing. I’m a no-good, spreading the vice of my looks wherever I go. The only solution for the likes of me is to ban us from your world. Bar it up and let our influence never creep through, lest it sticks to your world. Let us be unwritten, erased out of existence, like a bad story better left untold.

You know what? You’re absolutely right. Beyond my looks, there is nothing there for you. Judge me however you like, now stand, and see if I care. Or leave back to your world. After all, it’s perfect there. There’s no place for my looks. 

Sip my dreams

Come hang out with me in my dreams. Sit with me and let’s sip coffee while the tears of the world form black rivers around us. Let us be heroes, be enlightened, be gods. Let us paint with our own colors, the colors of our love, that they will never see.

Draw me a map of the world, of our own fantastical world of mythical totems and flying turtles and talking apples. Let it be silly or grand, I couldn’t care less as long as I’m there with you. Scrub away logic, you know it is not befitting of us. We could never do normal anyways.

Paint away the skeptics and doubters, they will never have a place here. What do they know of you and me? They do not see the colors we paint the world with when together. They don’t see how you glow and bathe the world in your loveliness. They don’t hear the music of the world we play in perfect symphony.

I sit by quietly and smile sadly as I watch you draw with your perfect strokes. With each touch of your soulful brush sparkles of us come to life, filling the air with the smell of pancakes in the early morning and the colors of the diving phoenix. Your hands weave in and out of the drawing like a gypsy drawing with threads of the wind.

Lay by me under the night sky as we draw our own constellation and name it as you breathe new stars into the void. Draw them where only we can see them. Paint them so only we can understand them. It will always be our little secret.

I hug your colors and caress your light. I’m in love with all that is you. Draw lies, draw truths, does it really matter? All that matters is the existence of you and I.

Time of heroes

Sit by me and tell me a story. Find a way to cleanse me up and put something naive inside.

Tell me of good times, of dreamy heroes clad in bright armors of rugs. Tell me of faith, of honor and grace. Draw me a picture of letters and curves to rule my mind. Talk to me of how valiant they were, a band of misfits with a dream of love.

Tell me stories to ease the pain – a pain I never grew numb to. Like a knife left inside, they twist it every once in a while and smile. I hold it together when strong, I scream when I give up and die when I can.

Tell me stories of love. Remind me of the faces of the silhouettes who rule my mind. Purify me. Take away the filth they leave inside and remind me of the dreamers, the lovers and the fighters. Remind me of my fear and tell me of my courage. Show me the shore but don’t take me there, leave me to swim with the gods for a while longer. You know how I yearn for them.

Tell me of the day I stood shoulder to shoulder with the giants. So small but significant, so scared but far from weak. Tell me of how the scum rose up to be knights that day. Send the songs thundering again, let them amaze the world again, let them shake the throne of oppression again, let them strike fear in the heart of the tyrant again.

Pick up the fading colours and paint the battlefield of dreams. Draw the lies of the trickster, spreading vile vines through the hearts and minds. Paint death looming over us, sending bloodied fingers down to reap the field. Paint the downtrodden, proud and unyielding, staring up at it in defiance under a glorious sunrise. Through it all draw hope – oh never forget hope – and paint it with the colours of the rainbow breaking through dawn.

Etch in marble the names of those who gave their lives that the rest of us may dream on. Let us all turn to dust while their names are worshipped. Let the world fade away into a wasteland while their names stand an eternal testimony, defying the worthlessness of time. Read them everyday, that the sacrifice may never be forgotten. Tell them I never forgot.

Sit by me, take my hand and lead me to salvation in the stories. They are all they left for me after tainting the dream. Tell me life is better, lie to me and I will believe you. Take me to the heroes again, let me sing again with those I love. Let me lay to rest amongst them, that we may sing to the heavens for the rest of time till we become legend again.

Unraveled, unchained

I pull away from all my memories and thoughts. They pollute my head. They hold me back like ivory chains that I can’t break free of. I strip off my clothes and stand naked, exposed, scared. I bare my scars to a world that will never see. I take a deep breath as the wind ruffles my hair playfully. I have no shame. I have no fear.

Then I tear away my skin and flesh. I refuse to be bound by mortality or physicality. I stand bare-boned, trying to make sense of who I am and where I stand.  I try to unravel what I was and what I have become. I finally break away from my bony prison, I lose all touch with the physical to become a dream, a thought, an evolving mental existence. Only then, am I able to absorb all the beauty of my ugliness and appreciate it.

I finally become me. Bare, deformed and glorious.