Sometimes I’m just amazed with how the world works. How people live, breathe, love, act. I’ve got my headphones on and I wish I could just jump into the scenes the songs I listen to portray, so I can feel at home every time. I am alone in the room and I’m thinking of too much things again and I can feel things happening. Really. A baby gets to see the light, another doesn’t. Someone falls in love at the first sight and it’s all too scary for that person that it tears them apart. Somebody dies unprepared. Winter comes for some, winter doesn’t for others. Teenagers dance, sing, go on online, die. We’re all obsessed with something and sometimes we’re not so careful about anything anymore.
Maybe when we smile, sparks explode up above within the planets and fairies with blue blood fall in love over and over again while hiding behind stained, brown curtains. I don’t know what I’m feeling but I just want to creep into your mind and play with things I shouldn’t. Maybe that’ll make emotions stir warmer.
The elves frolicking on the Christmas tree are one of the beautiful things we cannot see and we cannot control. Unless we destroy the tree, of course. Angels fall and are abandoned from heaven. But they’re heroes to a lot who don’t even know them. Whenever a migraine is injected in you, it dumps garbage into your veins and makes you puke and convinces you’re a mess, but you truly aren’t. You’re beautiful and fascinating.
The words in my broken dictionary pile up all alone into a mountain reaching for the skies, starting from the ground I stand on. I crush the magic in between my fingers and blow them away. They litter the snowy trees from afar and shower three, curly-haired preschoolers. They cross bridges and have power over blanket forts. The frozen telescopes feature the warmth of days. I want to hold your hand.
The wind chimes sing the siren babies their cradlesong. The sea blue guitar is kept away in the musician’s arms. Their lip gloss smiles match their Santa hats. The lighting in their rooms makes everything look like they’re starring in a black-and-white film. The punches to the heart break down walls and build up insecurity, blocking all the fun of being naïve and just too juvenile. Her blond hair flows out of the choir room and scratches the lockers of average slackers. Her ruby nails clash with her neon green headband and claws at her boyfriend’s credit card as she dances across the underworld. The cannibal in her wants to swallow everyone her boyfriend knows. Everyone. He. Knows.
He cannot shrug the world off of his shoulders. The Medusa is his booby trap and Achilles’ heel. He’s the fragile Superman of the forgotten and dumped away. Behind his eyes are the sorrow and loneliness all locked up and tied up with overreactions. He cares but he doesn’t. He wants but he needs instead. The lockers jump out to him and swipe off the skin on his face. It’s on because everything isn’t so exciting anymore, isn’t it?
Emotion wafts in the air and into the keys. The piano gladly obliges the player’s commands and screams out the agonizing breaths. The snowflakes drop in the open ocean and spiral around, causing the cats to stretch their limbs and roar with what they’re made of. Viridian and opalescent are the kaleidoscope. The journey on the skateboard, with the steel helmet, is unsuccessful. It flies down and crashes on the cement along with the debris of something wrecked a long time ago. He is drowsy in his pair of pajamas, gorgeous and eloquent in a way nobody will ever understand because he twinkles further into space. Heart-rending.
The shoves and sneers and doubt do well in covering up his impeccability. I thought you couldn’t break what was so unbreakable. I thought it was his own world; so why can’t he control it? Viridian and opalescent, I repeat. They splatter across the map and swarm in your vision. They perform on the place of the stage where no one’s interested in. The moon howls because the wolf is weary and it's his turn.
The hammering of your head closes on your mistakes and regrets. You’re not free since a faerie ensnared you in his heart, where you belong. You’re not meant to be free alone.
His wishful thinking chains down the opportunities. He wakes up and frowns because his teal kite has gone missing along with his hopes and dreams. He is the undertow you visit during your vacation. He wants to reach you but failed miserably. His and her ballet slows down the watch snaked around your wrist. They defy gravity as they chase each other in strides too elegant to exist in the future. They skim the fortress in distress. Their speed electrocutes them. The expired biscuits painted on the walls of their kingdom are what they eat to frighten away their hunger.
They see the world as hypocritical through their fashionably old television. They take peeks and pause moments. It helps them reevaluate and theorize our ways.
