So since night everyone has premium, and people like to talk, i figured people can talk here! It fosnet have go be to me, Anyone can talk about anything just know that others can read it.

Stars fade in between the city lights Where there are Late-night eats and bites. Come cross between meals cooked close to home. Do I really know what I want? A piece wants hustle and bustle, around others with a similar goal in mind. While sunbathing, on the grass. Definitely sounds like it could last. What it takes to hear honking or crickets in the night. Where the moon is the only light. I wonder what it would be; to live both in front of me. Where it will go, who knows? But I'd love to call a place,

home.

Reality

I observe all the people in my life My parents, siblings, friends, kids, workers and most importantly my wife. I ask myself what do I mean when I say "my life"?

Does it mean everyone I know is created by my reality? Are they part of my story, or am I part of theirs? Are we equal stakeholders in each other's stories and therefore not owners of a story?

This reality we perceive, these impulses we receive, the ideas we conceive, the senses and what they interpret by their capacity which if you look deeply they deceive.

I wonder about reality, the existence, creation, and what this all means.

Ruby the Old said to Ruby the Young “Don’t give up yet, our song isn’t sung. There’s more to the story; beyond this heartbreak, and fear. Know purpose and love; will bring light to this tear. The struggles of life, will make us quite wise. Earn badges of courage. Diamonds, of eyes.”

In the depth of the Underworld, the mournful screams of lost souls quiet as Hermes nears the castle. Not many are able to see what he does, being both in the Underworld and Olympus as things unfold. But then again, not many would want to. Being stuck between the drama of the Gods is tiresome, even for a gossip like Hermes.

Hermes lands on the spiked railings of Hades bedroom, balancing by the slight flutter of his feathered wings.

“Hades, I bring forth a message from Olympus!” Hermes yells into the abyss of the room. “I can’t leave until you come out!”

Peering out of the shadows, Hades approaches Hermes and swiftly shuts the windows. He says something, but it’s muffled by the barrier.

Hermes pounds on the glass, annoyed by Hades disinterest. Especially since Zeus has been breathing down his neck about the leaked letters to the mortal.

“Hades!” Hermes yells, pressing the letter against the glass. “Open up.”

Hades doesn’t listen.

“Hades. Open. Up.” He repeats, banging on the window on loop.

Finally, Hades opens the window again, flames in his cold eyes. “What!”

Hermes clears his throat, passing the letter in the gold envelope. “Zeus requests your presence.”

Hades scans the paper twice, mumbling the words to himself. Then, he folds it up and passes it back to Hermes.

“Tell Zeus Olympuses drama does not concern me.”

“I can’t say that” Hermes says, handing Hades back the letter. “He’ll pull a Prometheus on me.”

Hades sighs, resting his hand on his temples. “I am not helping in the mortal war” Zeus repeats. “If Zeus wants me to get involved, it means he managed to cause this mess and doesn’t want to fix it.”

“Actually” Hermes corrects, “This is the mess of the goddesses.”

Hades scoffs, pushing himself off the railing. “He who lit the match never started the fire in Zeus’s eyes.”

Hermes opens his mouth, but Hades cuts in. “Tell Zeus the only thing I will concern myself with, is the souls of the Trojans.”

Zeus fades back into the dark, leaving Hermes alone in the cold barren of the Underworld.

Now he has to find a way to break the news to Zeus, without provoking his temper. A near impossible task.

He prefers you. You'll just have to ask Him why. I don't see it myself. So He wanted to play in the dirt, that's all right, But then He had to bind you together with blood, sweat, and tears and breathe in your faces and fall head over heels and that was the beginning of the end for us. I'm not going to pretend we enjoyed it. Pretending is for you. When you flash into bright quasars and run the length of the universe with Truth in your mouth, It's a bit much to wonder if someone likes you. Still, we were more than a little embarrassed watching you. This is who He relished above us, This talking mud with the odd faces who always seemed to want to touch everything. Some of the others, well, They got more than embarrassed and now you have someone to blame. I'll never be able to tell you when it happened. Perhaps I was looking down at you the first time you put your face close to the fluff of a dandelion and blew. I heard your wish, it made me laugh. We're allowed to do that, you know. Maybe it was the time one of your daughters discovered she could sing, And her voice filling the mountains, A skein of silk, eternally strong, Made me wonder where I could learn to long for something like that. Now that you mention it, it may have been the time your lover walked back and forth all night with your child, Or when your son walked for miles following the call of a bird just to see its nest and never raise a hand to it. I may have seen it, then. The frail wonder of you, One moment you're so still you seem to hear me, The next you're so loud you forget your own name. The power of you to steal His heart with nothing, With the way you bite into fruit and the sound your footsteps make on rustling leaves. I, a string in the music, Will never get to hear the whole song, But you make it up yourselves out of whole cloth. I, one of the lights that calls out from nothing, Never knew brightness until I watched one of you watch the sun rise. I who whisper in dreams, Will never dream. But you build castles from your dreams, There is no part of life that you will not try to make beautiful. I see it now. How Love could love you.

I stare into your eyes, Afraid of what they say. You let out a few sighs, But I won't go away.

Together we are dark, Because I hear your thoughts. You won't say there's a spark, Because you're scared of knots.

Any sort of tie to me, Any sort of connection, Leaves you to lie to me, Which causes imperfection.

The messages are mangled. I can’t tell what you’re thinking. The words become entangled, Every time I see you blinking.

A whisper from you, Is what I have pled, For what we’ve been through, You’d love me instead.

No message of hope, Just saying “go away,” I wished we’d elope, But you wish to stay.

For if you love me, But I know you don’t, You’d send a message above me, But I know you won’t.

When one love fades, life stretches across desolate void until the next

It’s the constant back and forth Traversing land and sea Delivering a message that’s not for me My legs are tired My arms ache Climbing mountains and swimming lakes But this message is important The receiver has to see The sender must find out What he wants to have for tea

A reflection is a mirror Where we can see What is being shown,

                         However, it is not 
                         a true image,
                         as it is backwards.

Meaning that thought must Consider what is true.

                        And how it can 
                        be changed 
                        To see improvements in
                        The future 
                                                                                 

I am not all as I seem.

                            No, you are worse, 
                            A fool’s heart
                            Of golden gleam.

Only the truth, I speak, In whispered words, Of forest creak.

                                  If that is the truth,
                                  then what is pain?
                                  Speak not of the 
                                  better,
                                  When it is for 
                                  Your own gain.

Blasphemous, You know nought of pain, Only of the rain.

                               I know more than 
                               you think,
                               Alas, you know not
                               of the forgotten,
                               Only of pompous 
                               wink.

Rain is simple water, Yet it drips and it pours, A cacophony of silver slaughter.

                                 Have you lost 
                                 your mind?
                                 You have taken 
                                 the light of victory,
                                 Working the wearer  
                                 against the grind-

Work is all they will ever know To sow, grow and reap The reward of toil will surely show.

                               Can’t you see  
                               the opulent pearls,
                               That are bravely 
                               held behind 
                               thin veils,
                               Begging to be 
                               hurled?

Oh, trust me I do see, But I choose to ignore Those beads threatening to spill into a sea.

                           How can you  
                           choose to 
                           ignore?
                           What have they 
                           Ever done to you?
                           Tell me that! 
                            I implore.

I am the darkness to your light I was forced to reside within This mind of tangled fright.

                            You are the 
                            one casting 
                            images and thoughts
                            Of destructive power
                            A perfect storm for a 
                            single cause.

Despite it all you try to free them Why can’t you let me have this soul? To write to death, to condemn.

                                 Condemn them…
                                 No, surely not-

I wish to have my desire sated They are already crumbling And see how they are hated.

                         You callous fool!
                         There is no way 
                          for you to be exorcised 
                          Perhaps I should   
                          gather tools.

Tools?

                      Tools to allow me 
                       to live alongside,
                       The demon summoned 
                       from abuse 
                       and isolation,
                       Together we can find a    
                       way to reside,
                       In a strange symbiosis.

Remember To live in the shadows…

                              Is a blessing 
                              and a curse.
        

                  I know.