I no longer live in saccharine summers but the winters and pestilence of my past. I crave the cold like a blood hound just to relinquish it by the heat of a fireplace. I plague my soul with frostbite yet it will not shatter. I yearn for the serenity of snow of feeling numb between the dirt and fresh snowfall. But perhaps even more I long for the feeling of my hands scorching in the dull heat when i come back home. Feeling my skin set ablaze against the light of a candle. It is what makes me feel alive, like I am not dying. I can not sustain what it is to be satisfied anymore with or without the feeling on my skin. It’s like I’m shedding what has been cultivated in my bones and becoming lighter. It stems from a memory, deeply entangled within the roots of my mind, of drowning. You do not know how lonely it is to die until the last breath escapes your lungs and everything is cold. I felt the hand of god drag me toward the light, but it had just been a mortal, selfless savior who I once knew. Their hands were warm, and the light of the moon was just as warm and forgiving as a sunrise. I am trying to relive the moment when I was suddenly alive again, the gut wrenching admonition that I kept breathing. I have never wanted to die, but when the embrace of death was more of a kiss than a bleeding wound, how could I have not become infatuated with such a terminal glory. So this is where I have found myself once more, a late night bath. I have not even bothered to take my clothes off which only makes the freezing water a small bit better. I do not care how long I will be chasing after my breath because I know I will be warm soon enough.

I wonder this life a ghost sliding my feet a slow, somber walk to the sad sorry grave of old, slick sheets The fleeting fear of far off sandy shores is just a mistake in yellow street lights on pavement I know I’m not in the ocean if my house is right there But there’s the street light, where all my memories are A faded orange and so fickle they’d slip through my fingers like the sand I hate It is all just street lamps and doors in my mind Filling to the brim with hour glass dust, the only sign that time is here The only think I can count on is a clock I’ll flicker out like those dim lights, can’t see the road anyway

Every summer I have grown a taller, stronger, and my hair grows a bit longer. And every summer I forget the way things used to be, they aren’t the same anymore. I can’t say I miss being a child, but I suppose that nothing will ever go back to the way they were. As I tended to my mundane evening one day in early June I was struck by the sun’s blazing heat and scurried to the shade of a tree. I had carried on, giving only a thought of disgrace to such a scorching feeling. It wasn’t until a few moments later, when the sun began its descent below the horizon, that I heard the buzzing in the trees. They’re quite horrid creatures, as I have seen them. Cicadas burrow in the ground for years and emerge when summer arrives, just as swift as the other. It wasn’t even the first night that they were there; however that evening, the cicadas were the heralds to my nostalgia. For a very long time, all I wanted to remember were the days I spent in my neighborhood, blowing dandelion seeds into stale wind and other things that would never matter. They were things I thought I would never miss. At the sound of such droning from the cicadas, I remembered hide and seek in backyards, choking humidity, sprinklers, and painting my legs and wet chalk. There were friendship bracelets and yard sales, bikes with training wheels, gravel paths next to the dreaded woods, the taste of popsicle sticks, and the smell of pool water in my hair. I am not many years away from the childhood that I recall, but it feels too far away. Maybe more than that I could remember the days when my lover and I met much the same as I have described; delirious days of comforting heat and long laughters. It was not difficult to imagine her next to me, meandering without end. She would have felt the same, we did not know how much those summers were worth until we were out of reach of them. The days of this yearning and wistfulness are yet to pass, and I still hold on to this summer as if it were the last. I fear that it is the beginning of my last summers, perhaps I will forget that l cared about them at all. As I write this, September has begun, and now I have to listen closely to hear the cicadas.

“Where the hell did you find this!” The hooded figure to the left whispered aggressively. It was not a good idea to meet in a diner, even if it was midnight with no one around. “Is this not what you wanted?” I smiled smugly. I tapped my food impulsively and impatiently, I had another place, a more important place to be right now. “No,” the second hooded figure chuckled, “I think this is perfect.” They then sheepishly turned to each other and smiled, then one of them slide the bag under the table and tucked it gently under their right arm. To be honest, I don’t know what was in the bag, or at least I didn’t know what it was all about. I spent two weeks looking for it, practically chasing my own tail half the time, if you know what I mean. Whatever that thing is, whoever it’s going to, I think it’s evil. I know what I’m doing is wrong, what it does to my mind and body, it’s not good either. But thank god I can pay rent again, and I think they’ll pay me enough for a nice dinner at a nice restaurant. Those hooded figures slid out of the booth, their tall slinking limbs towering over me. “Shall we contact you again for another heist? We will be sure to pay you handsomely for future work.” One of them said. “You know where to find me.” I sighed. The person without the bag reached into their coat pokets and pulled out so many bills, all of them hundreds. I couldn’t help but smile as I took the greasy paper into my own hands and into my own pockets. Then that was it. Those mysterious people left, and I would never know who they were, or what someone was going to do with the thing that I gave them. All I got out of it was a crap-ton of money and a black eye. I got into a fight halfway here with some guy on the street who hates me for no reason. Today he finally got the match he wanted, but I sent him home after he bit the curb. Long story short, it’s been a wild day, and I’ve been up for hours. I started home, to an apartment not far from the diner. It was better than most apartments this side of the city, but it’s not a penthouse, if you know what I mean. I have a roommate, my boyfriend actually, and he was at the other side of the door when I knocked. He was wordless as we went into the kitchen. “I’m surprised you’re still up.” I said. “I’m not going to ask where you’ve been for two days because I know you won’t tell me.” He said and sat next to me at the table. “I can’t tell you.” I replied. “You’ve said the same thing for months. You know I get worried.” He looked at me very sternly, his glare was always soft though. “Just tell me the next time you’ll have to be away, that’s all.” “I will.” I reached for his hand and squeezed it,” I’m sorry.” My boyfriend didn’t say anything, but I knew he forgave me, or at least he would later. “What about the black eye?” He asked. “Oh, that was the guy I was telling you about.” I replying with a sigh. “Did you win at least.” He smiled. “Yeah.” I laughed quietly, and he laughed along too. “Weren’t we supposed to go on a date tonight?” I asked. “Well yes, but you weren’t here for dinner time.” My boyfriend replied. “What about a really late dinner on my tonight?” I chuckled. My boyfriend smiled back at me, “I think we can wait until breakfast.”

(Not exactly the prompt) I am not an astronaut. I am not even an astronomer. I was sent to space on a conquest of understanding; to ease a fear. Technology is not the thing I am afraid of, it is fact that man wants to play god so badly, he’ll try to invent something to make him not feel so human. Ten years ago, I would have never thought past Neptune, there’s a lot to process beyond that. I wrote a book about the horror of the universe, about a woman who was so desperate to know the warmth of another galaxy. She believed she could comprehend the scale of the universe, but she was foolish enough to cast herself into the emptiness between the stars and she lost herself, and what it meant to be human. I wrote in the book that being a human meant being oblivious to your existence, that expectations and experiences remained tied to earth, tied to a selfishness, I suppose. Every person who read my book was astounded with how my writing grappled with reality, and I became well regarded and won prizes for my book. The going into space part was a gift from the real rocket scientists. And they asked me to document the stars as I saw them in the most beautiful, powerful, and poetic way possible. I had always thought a researcher would be good at writing and such, but everyone was so eager to know what I might happen to see. Perhaps they thought I might reveal another plainly hidden secret of existence. The scientists told me they had sent people into space hundreds of thousands of times over, but I would get to see every planet up close. I would be traveling so fast for over a year that time would be different when I came back. This was something I pushed to the side and did not think about. My journey began some time after, and I did as they asked. I found my writing profoundly difficult to decipher once I was written it simply because I wrote everything I was thinking as it happened, but it did turn out remarkably complicatingly beautiful. Jupiter’s swirly storms reminded me of the layered skirts of a ballerina, of how they always fit perfectly as they sway. I thought Saturn’s rings were more of a rib cage than something decorative. I wrote that Neptune was a place there lonely people cast their lightning. And since then, I was never quite sure what I meant about that. It was only the moments after I passed Neptune was when I stopped writing. I felt so heavy in those seconds, even though there was no gravity to hold me down. The darkness was threatening, an alarm that perhaps I should have payed attention to for some time. Because beyond the fracturing ozone layer of my little blue planet, there is truly only void, and sometimes things that remind me of home. Doesn’t it feel so impowering that you of all things have life? Just the perfect timeline of events took place and now you’re existing, not concerned or considerate of that fact that there is an expanding universe that goes on forever. And if you’re scared of infinite darkness and the heat of stars that feel larger than yourself, don’t be. If you think that nothing matters, that in the grand scheme of things, you are nothing, then I can assure that perhaps we are nothing. But you’re human, and you shouldn’t have to think past yourself, that’s what makes us human, all of us. However, I did learn one thing, and I found it in myself to feel comforting. The universe is constantly expanding, as many people are aware of. But one day, when humans will surely be gone, the universe will run out of things to keep going, and likewise collapse into itself. So it won’t last forever. And all starts die out eventually. There is no infinity, nothing lasts forever.

To a close friend, We were unstoppable, really. I miss those days when we were together and cared about absolutely nothing but our continuous joy. Where there was our silence, there was the ever promised beating of our hearts in sync. Needless to say, you are always the same as the last time I’ve seen you, you always look at me the same. And I don’t know if we see the same eyes in ourselves as we did two years ago. Perhaps we’ve matured. It is certainly something true that we’ve grown closer, and I think after we met there was no separating the two of us. But when you did move, I cried. I wanted to hug you more than I did and tell you we would always be friends. I couldn’t bring myself to be sentimental, so I’m sorry if it seemed like I was taking this lightly. God it felt awful knowing you were gone. I felt a part of me was gone. That’s often what people say about lovers, but then we weren’t of such a relationship we’re we? Somehow we got closer even with miles between each other. You were someone I could confide in, and to be honest that was something I never had with a friend. We spoke of such absurd and abstract ideas of our own fantasies that surely both of us must be mad, or perhaps just inventive. I wish I could have helped you more, you need it more than once did. You deserve everything you could possibly have the want for, and I would give it all to you. When you told me you loved me, you weren’t there to say it to me. Maybe if you were here I wouldn’t have been such and idiot to turn you down. I tried to say yes, but I just couldn’t. I want to love you right beside me. It would tear me apart to know that I couldn’t see your face to tell you I loved you. I think maybe I do love you, but I don’t know how to feel about it. I think what I’m trying to say is that we should be in love together, just maybe now is not the right time. I think we’re soulmates really, that’s not me trying to be poetic. I’m sorry that we’re so far apart and that you feel distant. I’m sorry that I can’t tell you how I feel either. I feel shamefully petty and vain about my love, it’s always been that way. You don’t have to hold on to this place, just please hold on to me.
With Compassion, Yours Always

The sun has always been alone It is bold and brazen with its rays That we lie in only when The sun feels nice on our skin

The sun loves us and wants us to know So he waves and yells with great heat But we are displeased The heat is intolerable and too much

The sun can barely see our earth But he can hear how unhappy we are All he wanted to do was show his thanks To the planet that made him mean something

After working at a theme park for the short months that I have, you see a lot of people come and go. Today was just as insignificant as all of the other days with thousands of people smiling and shaking while waiting their turn for rides. I started my day off as usual, managing the entry lines and taking people’s tickets. Halfway through the morning, I took the tickets of two people who appeared to be twins. They had bleach blonde hair the color of white sand. Their skin was even paler and their eyes were translucently blue. I thought them to be albino, but perhaps that may not have been the situation. I complimented their unique style, both wearing bright blue, stripped overalls. It was much like a clown, but in a good way. They grinned blankly and thanked me after I gave them directions to our most popular roller coaster. It’s called The Pit, a shiny, six minute ride that was built nearly four years ago. It was called The Pit because it goes into an underground tunnel into pitch darkness for about 45 seconds. The lines were always full especially midday since people liked being blinded by the direct sunlight that came through at the end of the tunnel. Or at least that’s probably it. I started a second and easier shift, wandering through the theme park, offering directions and helping to clean up trash if I decided I wanted to. I saw one of those twins again, but their outfit was different than just a couple of hours ago. They were wearing more bland colors than I had seen earlier. The other twin was followed closely behind, but was wearing the same overalls when they came in. Maybe I should have thought it to be more strange, but I went without seeing them again for a little while. It wasn’t until the third and longest shift that I kept seeing those twins, or at least it should have been them. The last several hours of my day were spent working at The Pit. I stood between the lines to get on and off the ride next to a wall of shelves for people to put their purses, and I watched to make sure they weren’t stolen. The twins entered the ride, the blank smiles always unchanging. Six minutes later and they leave the ride, their grins cutting into their cheeks more than than I recalled. Those twins were wearing the same outfit as this morning, and I was left to wonder when the outfit had changed, or perhaps there was a triplet among them. The first two twins didn’t come back, but then I caught a glimpse of the paper white skin of a singular person. They came to the front of the line, the same sharp smile with the same sharp teeth and got on the ride. It wasn’t the twins or the other one of them wearing bland colors. This time it was a red shirt with a particularly boring floral print, it was something that and older women would wear, or a child who unwilling took the hand me downs from an aunt clearing out her closet. I waited for that person to exit the ride, and they did, fists clenched so tightly it made my wrist throb. But there was someone behind that person who stood out like snow on a summer day bureaus that was exactly what they looked like. Hair and skin so pale it was almost transparent, and eyes so piercing like papercuts. They both smiled and left, and I thought they perhaps I was seeing things. Maybe it was heat exhaustion, or I could be going insane. I promptly hurried to an employee restroom and splashed water on my face. It wasn’t cold enough to make me feel like it helped, so I just looked at myself in the mirror for a moment before going back outside. I stood by that door for a moment, and someone came out of that bathroom behind me. I almost screamed after seeing the smile, the blank canvas of a person waltzing away as if they were human. But that can’t be what this is anymore. That thing was wearing an employee uniform, and I know for a fact that there is no one working here who’s skin is the color of their bones. Standing at that roller coaster only got more difficult. I kept seeing the faces, the stares, and the sickening smile. No voice, no personality, they were just… I don’t know what is happening, but it’s those twins’ faults. During the last one and a half hours of the day, I saw nearly 78 of those things, I started counting after a while. An entire group of them went on the roller coaster and one of them came over to me. They took a purse off of the shelves, and made it very important to keep directly staring at me. I must have been sweating a whole lot, I remember my collar being soaked. When the person grabbed for the purse, their fingernails scrapped through the wood, making my teeth feel on edge. I did my best to smile as the left. But then it opened its mouth, and I swear I saw no toungue. “You never find a person like me, do you?” It said perfectly. All I managed to do was nod anxiously and hope that was enough of a reply. The rest of my shift felt endless, yet I let it pass by without thinking about it. The blank people kept coming and going. I don’t remember the last time I saw a real, or normal looking person. I laughed at the thought that I may be going blind because of how bright and pale those people were. On one of the last rides of the day, 18 of those things were put into the rollercoaster. There seemed to be a buzzing noise coming from them, like a heartbeat, but not quite right. It was nearly dark outside, and there were few other employees working. There was the man operating the ride, who I could not see. He was closest, and I thought about talking to him later to make sure I wasn’t having hallucinations. I waited six minutes, and no one exited the ride. I waited another two minutes; nothing. For a moment I thought we hadn’t let anyone else on the rides and closed for the day, but that was just wishful thinking. The door to the operating booth was locked, I had no idea what to do. I should have done nothing, but rather keep this job and save those things than get fired. Even if those people aren’t people, I still want to know what happened. The rollercoaster went several thousand feet long above ground, and they weren’t anywhere on the track. So I took a flashlight and headed for the tunnel. It was so deserted for a theme park, the place wasn’t closed yet. I walked down to the tunnel only to see it collapsed. I remember sighing with relief then telling myself I shouldn’t be glad. Those blank people were likely dead. That didn’t stop me from going closer. And I found a wheel from the carts that one of them had been sitting in. I tried calling I for other people, asking if anyone else knew about the crash under the tunnel, but my radio was just static. Everything becomes hazy from that moment on after a smell made it apparent that there was something dead in the tunnel. I remember going home, calling in sick for the foreseeable future and that was all for a while. When I did go back to work though, it was normal, just like before. Except I was the only one who was aware of the crash. The Pit was still being ridden, lines full as always, and the tunnel was still standing. I nearly forgot about that day until I was working the entrance booths again. Out of the crowd, I saw two pairs of bright blue overalls, and when I saw the people wearing them, I knew they were real this time.

Will there be someone to confide in If there was never a secret to begin with? I left nothing I am leaving

I hope desperately Someone will wonder where my footsteps lead Only for the wind to blow away my tracks There is not a world In which I could want to stay here

I am going now I will grasp the reigns of my wits and ride Without a trace

As daunting as storm clouds And fierce as the piercing lightning I stare at the endless horizons That call to me, and I listen

So I am leaving And I will not feel alone But you will

My favorite chaotic things are dreams. They have every right to be so jumbled and chaotic when the human mind is just as such. Shall I indulge in a story? Suffice to say, I’ve never had a nice dream. It’s always been nightmares or vivid visuals with lingering uneasyness until it eventually goes away. My dreams are so disconcerting that most nights I have difficulty sleeping. Just the other night I had a dream I was speaking to a raw piece of lamb. It was on a styrofoam that had plastic wrap on it. The lamb said that it couldn’t breath and so I used my thumb nail to cut a slit in the plastic. Nothing about this was not strange, and the lamb didn’t even have a mouth. It was more like a voice emmiting from it. The lamb began speaking to me in a very posh manner, and we were having a lovely time. But I couldn’t understand what the thing was saying. It sounded all too perfect to be words at all. I concentrated deeply, but in doing so I became more lost than before. Then my front door collapsed and fell forward. A gust of wind sent chills down my spine, and snow came whipping through as well. Suddenly, I felt very cold, and looked to the lamb that was now quiet. There was someone standing in the threshold of my door, a gangly shadowy figure that was not scared of. Its eyes were glowing and white, and it approached me steadily, but I did not see its legs moving. It stopped to look at me before gently picking up the frozen lamb thawing in the countertop. Maybe I said goodbye or asked the shadow not to hurt the lamb, but the shadow did not hesitate as it slowly began staggering out. And I didn’t try to go after the lamb either. Without a doubt, there had to have been more to that dream, but I can’t recall anything else. The weird part about waking up was that my heartbeat was irregularly fast as if I had been scared. And the funniest part is that I don’t even like lamb.