Sure, I would rather be awake than asleep I would rather lay beneath the vast infinity of The sky than Beneath the peeing paint and Faded glow-in-the-dark stars (Dollar tree, of course) Of my bedroom ceiling - But someone has to act first, and it’s Not going to be me. Think of any Messiah, Any Jesus Christ or Greta Thunberg, I guess. They ended up how? Nails in palms, Palms full of blood, Pressed to a cross Or ripped to shreds by the press. You’re crazy or you’re fake, Or you’re a rude, radical bitch. So yes, I will grow older and Let my will be taken away day to day I will shift from watering cans full of flowers And handfuls of ferns And dark, earthy moss to Things that force me to laugh (Because I’ve forgotten how) And things that make me feel numb (Because nothing is worth feeling anymore) It’s either shoot or get shot, So I am launching a preemptive Initiative to do nothing, To stand with my palms pressed Against the cold glass of my window As I watch my Disoriented friend back his car Over the garden I planted when I was nine, Trying to ignore the sunlight And the way the whole room smells like spring.

When the Queen walks by, everything stops. Because this is not some simple-minded media prop that smells like cotton candy and exists so that shady people can operate behind a lovely face with a high approval rating.
This is the Queen. Her armor is dark, form fitting, there is a gun at her hip and a dagger on each leg. Her hair is fire, a deep orange drawn back into a tight French braid that falls between her shoulders. She does not blow kisses and wave, but she’ll occasionally throw a lopsided smile in someone’s direction, and that person will flush, and grin as if they just won the lottery. At her side, a woman to rival her harsh, war-bound beauty, a completely opposite soft kind of pretty. Her hair is so blond it is almost white, and it falls in curls around her face, framing her long lashes and huge eyes, the same bright blue as the sky and the cropped cardigan she wears. The Queen’s arm is thrown around her shoulder in a casually possessive sort of way, and when the woman smiles at her, something in the Queen’s sharp gaze melts. They are out of the public eye in no time, slipping behind the iron wrought gates of the two story townhouse the queen lives in - a strange place for a leader of such importance to reside, but it is comedic to imagine this woman inside a palace. The streets take a good ten minutes to settle down. The people love their Queen, and during a time of war, that is an unusual phenomenon indeed. The citizens of Firinia love their Queen, but I am not a citizen of this vast eastern country, and my feelings for her couldn’t be father from love. I slip between the bars of the fence - because I can be a shadow if I want to, and magic couldn’t be further from dead. The Queen and her lover are on the back porch, two tangled into one, mouth against mouth. They kiss passionately, barely stopping to breathe. They pause for a moment, exchanging lovesick grins. “I am so lucky to have you,” the Queen whispers raggedly. “I’m the luckiest person in the world,” her lover echoes the sentiment. The queen disentangles herself. “Hang on,” she says, “I’m going to grab us drinks.” My opportunity. I am beside her almost instantly. She looks like she is going to scream, so I assure her that I am safe, that I just want to talk, only for a second. I lie, and it works because I can be persuasive if I want to be. Because magic is anything but dead. “I need you to help me kill the Queen,” I tell her, and all my work is undone. Her face grows pale and her eyes widen, and she turns toward the house - But I understand psychology far better than most, and I know that even the “luckiest person in the world” will give it all up if the price is high enough. I tell her I can make her rich, beyond her wildest dreams, and when that fails to work I switch to threats. I tell her that I will kill the Queen either way, it is up to her if she needs to die as well. I tell her I know her family, that I can grant them immunity from the siege that is imminent. I lie, and it works. She looks nauseous, there are tears in her eyes, but she nods her head and that is enough. There is some rich, beautiful story behind the love that the Queen has for this woman, something equal parts heartache and glorious, vivid ecstasy, beautiful fall mornings and dark, passionate nights. But I do not know it, and, I think as I press the vial into the hand of this woman before me, I don’t really care how it goes. All I know is that the next drink the Queen has will be her last one, and that is enough for me.

So I am this lighthouse This outpost This saint of loneliness and light. So I am this statue of solidarity Sunk up to my knees in frigid waves Standing in the steely sea. So you say.

I am not Self isolating I am safely growing in the shade Under the blanket of an overcast sky. I am not Worse off Without your skyscraper frame sitting Heavy on the beach beside me.

What you don’t see How the grassy cliff hugs me Shelters me as you never could. What you don’t see The contrast between the gently windswept pine trees And your harsh, cold profile. What you don’t see How your toxins leached into our waters Bleached the sky pale. So what you don’t see I am not This wilting orchid, poisoned by the salinity of the ocean.

I am a strong-willed thistle, taking root in the fertile soils of my new home.

He opened up the window And I opened up my heart He handed me a cigar And I smiled in the dark

I pretended to ignore him He pretended that he cared He said I wasn’t shy or stupid I said I wasn’t scared

My reality was dark and grim But with him there was this light I was drawn to him, moth to candle Held in everlasting night

Nothing helped, I wasn’t sane My heart and mind weren’t level - It’s hard not to second guess yourself When you’re talking with the devil

Sometimes, I just need to hit the trails Ride them as far as they go Pedaling furiously and Cornering sloppily, Dangerously close to tree trunks Sometimes, I just need to fall Tires spinning out in Loose soil Stinging scrapes and bruises remind me That I am human My head hits a root and reminds me That the woods are real And I am so glad to be wearing a helmet But it’s all worth it, because Sometimes, I just need to flow Get in that headspace where time Melts away And I become fluid and smooth Even if the ground below me is anything but Arms and legs extending as I stand, My bike far beneath me, I am removed from the harrowing descent So I can enjoy the wind in my face And just pump it out And it’s me And the silence of the woods And whatever fast-paced rock Is playing tinnily through one earbud My heartbeat falling into pace with the drums And sometimes I just need to push Until my legs burn And my body is on fire And my head is spinning, My breathing ragged, And I am consumed with a good kind of pain Because Sometimes, I just need to hit the trails

She was staring at me. I could feel her eyes boring into the back of my head. It was getting ridiculous at this point. It had been going on for hours. ‘What kind of person stares at someone for hours?’ I thought. And her eyes made it all the worse. Her eyes were alarming - a stunning, vibrant blue that was impossible to ignore. They stood out, even though we were all cloaked in blue, surrounded by the sea and the sky, the few beachgoers standing out starkly against the cobalt hue. And still, the girl with bright eyes stared at me, and only me, when there was so much else to see. The waves, cresting majestically on shore, or the sparkling fish that leapt and played in the sea foam. So, it was only human nature that eventually, I leapt to my feet and rounded on her. “What do you want?” I demanded, my tone bordering on anger. “Hmm?” she asked, and those eyes met mine, and I was momentarily paralyzed. I took a breath, blinked a couple of times. “I said, what do you want? You’ve been staring at me for half a day!” She pursed her lips, then took a breath, sucking air through her clenched teeth with a disapproving whistle. “You’re alone here. And so am I,” she said eventually. I frowned. “I’m not alone,” “Then who is here with you?” the girl with the blue eyes asked. Now it was my turn to purse my lips. “I’m not sure,” I said, and as I said it, I realized I wasn’t sure of very much at all. I didn’t know where I was, and what I was doing here, and - hell, I didn’t even know my own name. The girl with the blue eyes nodded, sadly. “Me neither,” I frowned. “I’ll call you Blue,” I said. “Because of your eyes,” she smiled. “Ok, then. I’ll call you Blond. Because of your entirely unremarkable hair,” I couldn’t help but laugh. I looked around the beach again, and found that the sun had dipped lower in the sky. Far lower. The shore was now lined with shadows, the sand dunes behind us painted a golden-pink color in the sunset. Most of the people had left, but a few remained. A couple held hands, walking down the beach towards us. They were grinning, lost in each other’s eyes. “Should we move out of the way?” I asked Blue. They were coming directly towards us. She shook her head. “We don’t need to,” I frowned. “But surely-” I stopped talking quickly, because they had just walked through me, a sensation that was very similar to stepping into a furnace. Unpleasantly warm, for just a moment. I gasped, suddenly aware of how cold I was. I must have been shivering very noticeably, because Blue didn’t hesitate to put an arm around my shoulder. She was colder than I was, but her presence made me feel ok with being cold. “So, we’re dead,” she said. I nodded, strangely calm. I was glad she had said it, and not me. I’d been thinking it all along. “How long have you been here?” I asked her. She shrugged. “I’m not sure. Everything was moving in slow motion, for what seemed like forever. And then I met you, and things started to speed up,” I nodded, satisfied with her answer, and stared at the sea ahead of us. I don’t remember when it had happened, but we were both sitting down now. Blue leaned her head against my shoulder. Even as we sat there, I noticed time speeding up, even faster than before. Exponentially. The stars were moving across the sky, faster and faster, and then night became day, and the sun was just a blur as it rose and set, and everything kept accelerating - night and day and night and day and night and- Everything stopped. And suddenly there were thousands of people around us, surrounding us, wading out of the water or sliding down the dunes, smiling and waving and coming to greet us. The first who reached us was a tall girl, with golden skin and long, dark eyelashes. “Hi,” she said, her voice bubbling with excitement. “They call me Lash. What do they call you?” the way she introduced herself - not ‘what is your name’, but ‘what do they call you?’ “Um…” I stuttered. “This is Blond,” Blue explained, shaking Lash’s hand. “Welcome,” we were interrupted by a man, broad shouldered and muscular, but with a friendly face. He had a tattoo on his shoulder, shown off by the tank top he wore - a rose, complete with red ink and a winding, thorny stem. “They call me Rose,” he announced. “Who are you?” “I’m Blond,” I stammered out. Blue was busy talking to someone else, so I made introductions for her. “This is Blue,” And after the introductions were made, we climbed the dunes together, cresting the hills to look upon a city with colors far more vibrant than anything I could remember seeing. I smiled, almost sadly, as I surveyed the afterlife. I smiled because it was beautiful, beyond anything I’d ever imagined. I was sad because I knew there was something missing, from me and everyone here. I could remember vaguely. There had been someone - a man, tall and handsome, and I had been in love. I had had a life. “You’ll remember,” I heard Blue’s soft, musical voice before I saw her. I glanced down at her - she was nearly a foot shorter than me. Although there were tears brimming in those lapis eyes, she was smiling too. “We both will. Together. And someday, they’ll come meet us here. Until then, we can wait for them. Together,”
And so I took her hand, and we walked into our new life. Together.

Light - show us what is and will always stay Shadow - illuminate what isn’t and might be Everything is the same, every day We are bound by rules, never free But shadow and light keep us sane In their glorious defiance of all We think is true, try to maintain Expand our minds, no longer small Shadow and light - a balancing act If they are too similar, then they Are too mundane, not abstract Defeats their purpose, in a way Think about this - Maybe the real alarm Lurks not in bliss Sadness, anger, or charm But in between the two Between shadow and sunlight A place that’s ignored, not new An undiscovered plight

She was called Avalon, an archaic name she disregarded, preferring the name Ava instead. Her hair was dark, chestnut brown that fell just past her shoulders, framing a face that was like an acorn both in shape and color. And then there were those alarming blue eyes that were almost constantly being rolled in annoyance. Those eyes could stop you in your tracks. She was short for her age, and had palms that would sweat uncontrollably when she was angry or uncomfortable. She sported a sweatshirt and jeans every day, predictably, and kept her hair in a tight French braid.

I’m so glad that you think I’m funny So glad I could make you smile I’ve grown numb to it, it’s been Like this for a while

I went from ignorable To annoying From studious silence To raucous laughter

Before, It was Different. Before…

I was so glad my grades were good I was happy to assist With any schoolwork, I would quickly check it off the list

But here’s the thing about people: Smart kids pay the price No one likes to feel inferior Intelligence can be a vice

The fall (Or perhaps rise) From my pedestal Happened quickly

A straight ‘b’ student is Less intimidating, You’ll find

With the stress of schoolwork lifted My voice began to rise A wild, disruptive sense of humor Was something I realized

Here’s the thing - I don’t have to fit in the box No two words Smart girl Funny girl No one word Nerd Clown Can define me I can be everything And if I want I don’t have to be anything at all This That Was the only lesson I ever needed to learn

She has so much to hide A soft exterior conceals her instability Soft, sleepy hills of green grass Can always open into a sinkhole

A soft exterior conceals her instability Perspective is all that masks her true self, she Can always open into a sinkhole A river of pain

Perspective is all that masks her true self, she Could be out to get you - or perhaps A river of pain Obscures the fact that she really doesn’t care

Could be out to get you - or perhaps The pain she causes Obscures the fact that she really doesn’t care Jagged mountain peaks have no meaning

The pain she causes A figment of your imagination Jagged mountain peaks have no meaning The open sky doesn’t care if you fall

A figment of your imagination Mother earth cares nothing for us The open sky doesn’t care if you fall Her mask is a human invention