I’ve fallen into a world of endless sleep, but I cannot dream. In my lap lies a fortune telling ball, yet I can only see the past. I am burdened by the things I find myself doing and still I have done nothing.

The world moves around me these days. Placed still to weather the seasons, like a dilapidated park bench providing a surface for moss and liche to grow rampant in a war for the territory upon my skin. The wind blows. The moon chases the sun across the sky. It is here that I will wait.

Her gaze has been fixed upon me for so long. I remain basking in the warmth of it. The radiance of her presence could cause sunflowers to stand straight on a rainy day.

It’s only now after years of rest I can see it. That there before me, she is my dream, my future, and by her side I am a sturdy stalk of a sunflower reaching towards the sky above.

Another appointment. A second opinion. Yet it all keeps coming back the same. They say I’m healthy, I’m still young. Just pushing 30 years old, “you’re still in your prime!”

But how is this my prime? When I feel the lowest I’ve ever been. When dark of night is stretched thin into the glow of twilight, another restless night. When my appetite shrinks into nothing. My focus, now dull. I’ve grown despondent. My joy exists only behind me, as every day is a struggling between where I am and where I want to be.

They suggest pills, “these SSRIs will fix you up after a few weeks once the correct levels are in your system.”

But I don’t want that. I want to be better. I want to be proud of who I am again. I spent far too much of my life trying to avoid being hurt, and it only lead to that very outcome.

I want to feel like myself again.

Back then, things weren’t too strange between us strangers. We were grifters. Traveling one town to another in search for work. Gold mines, farmhands. Hell, even the role of barhand. But what we were really looking for wasn’t work. It was trouble. Any time those saloon doors swung open was like the tumbling of a slot machine you’d find on one of them fancy river boats out east. Always hoping it was gonna be a jackpot, hoping it was someone with fat pockets walking in. Maybe rich from oil. “Black gold” is what they’d call it.

Those doors swung open, the slots start turning, and sure enough he came walking in. The son of man who’s father struck oil. Walking on in reeking of whiskey and cigars, belligerent– but armed. Shooting him dead and taking his money would be easier than shooting fish in a barrel. But he knew that, too. Slamming a fist full of coins on the bar top demanding an entire bottle of whiskey, ah, but he must have noticed the look in my eye. The next words he uttered were plain and simple as he fixed his hand upon his six-shooter, “go ahead… Take your shot, stranger. You’ll only get one.”

Not yet But we have both been waiting so long We laid beneath the stars in the sky Burning strong With an intensity which envied the sun And so the sun came up and told the stars they had shined enough on this night Yet, one star remained to shine until the twilight shone way into dawn “Not yet,” said this final star.

Streaks of fire are falling from the sky Sirens wail in the distance Our car is alone on this highway Pulled to the shoulder of the road My hand placed upon yours The sights of war we shall endure

I am a beauty to be seen. Shimmering, shining. Churning, restless. I am a slave to the phases of the moon. Within consists countless monsters of the deep; leviathans, and gentle giants, too.

What I take, I will never give back. And what life I give, I will always take back.

I exist in seven bodies. I am every shade of green and blue. Under the night sky we meet at the horizon line and blur together as one. A solid black backdrop to keep you locked to land.

Yet, people travel far and wide to see me. They dip their toes in and submerge their bodies within mine. None the wiser of the horrors and tragedy I commit with every passing day.

The bathroom mirror tends to fog, and when it does I can see the faint impression of sweet-nothings your finger carved through the mist.

When I find myself in a crowded place I can’t help but to scan over everyone to find your face.

Even when it comes to ordering a coffee, I order it just the way you liked it. I am desperate for what your lips once tasted.

Should I hear your first name out of the mouth of a stranger my heart would skip a beat. I would find it even stranger if they specified the use of the letter “K” instead of a “C”.

Missing you has lead me here. To have chased a ghost, only to not even have found a shadow.

It’s a shame when you think of it like this

When water rounds off rocks and wind carves through canyons

We are two forces working against one another

If I stand to keep my feet planted where we are then you will take away pieces of who I am

But, it’s been awfully nice being with you in the light of the moon, bearing the stars in our eyes with the scars on our hearts

I recognized his eyes as soon as he walked through the door. I froze. I couldn’t do this right now. Our gazes locked on one another as my line of sight trailed downwards to his dirty brown boots. The weight of his gait cracking the floor boards. I could feel my heart caught in my throat, then plummeting down to the ground. Ripe and ready to be crushed beneath his feet.

The smell of cheap wine and cigarettes began to permeate the surrounding air as he pulled a bar stool next to me. He let out a long sigh as he plopped himself in the chair. One leg crossed over the other. Adjusting the taped frames of his glasses, clearing his throat. Then finally his words pierced through the air like a jet through the sound barrier, “my, oh my… Look at how the years have changed us both.”

When I died, my shadow decided they would take over. But how many times have I already died? How much more should my shadow live?

You used to say you loved me and then you left me as a stranger, a piece of myself died that day. I felt like nothing in this world mattered anymore. The warmth of sunlight no longer touched my skin. I was cast into an abyss as I sunk from sublime heights into harrowing depths of disillusion.

My friends, family, peers, each one alike saw the transformation in me. Many mistook it for sadness, heartbreak, anger, but it was so much more than all of those. This was despair. My shadow took over.

Day by day my shadow grew. It began to swell until it became the shape of my room. Laying here, all alone in the dark. My shadow bleeds into the darkness of the room, filing the borders. This is the new shape I am. Alone in solidarity. Four walls, a floor, and a ceiling. This is despair.