the colors fade.

The colors fade.

GREY 

GREY 

GREY

“Oh please just let the sunshine stay.”

The little girl asks, 

the little girl pleads. 

The little girl weeps upon her knees. 

‘No’ The Voices do demand.

‘Now take this razor in your hand.’

The girl begs and shows her fears.

‘Little Girl, what are you crying for?’

‘No one can hear your cries or see your tears.’

The girl does what The Voices need.

The little girl has done The Voices’ deed. 

through the forest.

She was walking through the forest;

dark and very grim.

She was walking through the forest,

searching just for him.

Stumbling over roots, 

tangled in the vines;

“When I find the boy I’m looking for,

He will certainly be mine.”

young child.

As Gastile and the girl wandered further down the path, the girl stopped.

In the brush she heard crying.

Curious, the girl stopped.

Inching toward that familiar sound, she saw a young child. 

“Do I know you?” the girl inquired. 

“You seem oh so familiar.”

“No.” the child answered quickly as she ducked her head between her thighs.

“No one knows me.”

The girl sat beside the child; comforting her, singing to her.

“I promise you, young child, you will

feel this pain no longer.

Years may pass, and you will

feel this pain. But when the 

time comes, you will soon be happy.”

The child looked up at her and smiled. 

“I hurt.” the child said. 

“And I have no one.”

The girl knew. The girl knew this child’s pain.

“I know, sweet child, I know.”

“May I come with you?” the young child begged.

She pleaded.

Yearning to join them on their journey.

‘No.’ the voices said.

‘You already have too much pain.’

“You have to stay here.” the girl told the child.

The young child began to weep.

“But don’t fret. I know your pain. And for that I 

give you a piece of my heart. I will always be with you. 

always.” 

gastile.

Further down the path, she spotted an old wooden wagon.

Fascinated by its old wooden carvings,

she glanced inside the window;

“Hello?” she whispered. 

“Is anyone home?”

Then with a giant THUD, a man with a green striped shirt jumped out of the wagon.

The man was accompanied by a large carved spear. 

“Gastile, my name it is.” the man told the girl.

“You need?” 

He gave her the spear.

‘Ask him questions’

the voices told her.

‘He may be of some value.’

After a lengthy interview, Gastile was asked to come along.

“You will be needed,” the girl said, “when the others come.”

Gastile looked around. 

“Others, no I see. Safe we are here.”

“They will come.”

for Sidney Grey Destouet.

He sits there as she screams through the voices;

 
  Calming her.
Soothing her.
Holding her.

He sits there.
Waiting there.


While his love is gone,

He patiently awaits her return.


  The world is cruel,

but


             What a beautiful face she has found in this place.

bullets in a flowerpot.

Like bullets in a flowerpot,

destructively arranged.

Like bullets in a flowerpot,

appearing quite deranged.

Crooked on the windowsill,

on display for all to see.

Like bullets in a flowerpot;

together you and me. 

wilmur.

While walking, she spotted an old man on the side of the road. 

“Wilmur?” he asked.

“Have you seen Wilmur?”

The old man began to cry.

The girl stopped beside the old man, wanting to help.

Then she saw the name tag.

The old man was Wilmur. 

After telling the man, the man wiped away his tears and laughed, 

“There comes a time where 

we all forget who we are.”

the portal.

‘JUMP’ 

the voices told her.

‘JUMP’

  And so she did.

Sent into a whirlwind of chaos, the girl fell from her rooftop 

plummeting towards the ground below.

        And then the portal opened.

The kingdom she had entered was breathtaking; 

With trees as far as the eye could see 

and birds fluttering above her in the warm summer wind. 

In front of her lay a path. 

‘Take it.’ the voices had told her ‘You are almost ready to meet The King.’

leaving.

“I CHOOSE to feel depressed?” 

she asks herself as she kicks the bag of clothes on the floor.

“I CHOOSE to be fucking miserable?”

she asks as she rips her clothing from the hangers and stuffs them into her knapsack.

“I CHOOSE to hear these voices in my goddamn head?”

she screams as tears stream down her face.

“WHO IN THEIR RIGHT MIND WOULD

FUCKING CHOOSE THAT!?”

she yells as she slams her bedroom door shut.

She packed her clothes. 

She packs her blades.

Her knife for protection.

Her cigarettes.

Her lighter.

Her pills.

 
“Now its time to leave this god awful place.”

                     “THEY’RE NOT REAL”


Her mother’s voice echos within her daughter’s mind; piercing every lobe, scratching every surface.


       “And I am not going to condone this.”




Her mother continues as her daughter’s eyes swell up with tears. 



How could they not be real when she has felt their own heartbeat? Heard their own voice? Become their best friend? 
How could they have possibly not been real?






            “If you bring this up again,” 
her mother continued,


        “You will be grounded. You’re things will be taken.”




 By then the daughter is in her world. Thinking to herself once more 
‘How could they not be real? 
                          They’re here. Now, even.’




 Until her mother’s fierce words snap her back to reality. 




    Or we will take you back to the hospital. 

pretty bird.

A bird sat on a wire. 

Another sat beside it. 

“Hello.” said the second bird. 

The first bird had no reply.

“Hello,” said the second bird louder than before.

The first bird flew off.

She sat on a branch.

The second bird sat on the branch beside her.

“Why don’t you speak, pretty bird?” the second bird had asked the first. 

“You must have many stories to tell.”

The first bird looked at the leaves that had fallen on the branch on which they were perched. 

“Pretty bird, tell me this,” began the second bird. “Have you ever tried to speak.”

He stretched out his wings and flew in the summer wind that surrounded them both. 

“Have you ever told but a soul of your stories? Of your passings? Have you ever sang along with the flowers or with the trout that swim in the river?”

The first bird look bewildered.

But still was silent.

  “Speak to me, pretty bird. Tell me your troubles.” 

The first bird nodded her head in disagreement and just when she had thought that the second bird had  given up, she had head him sing.

The meadow was filled with music; the trees danced with the tune of the single bird’s melody. 

  “Now sing with me, pretty bird. 

    Let your voice be heard.”

life.

You’re life has always been a fairy tale. 

Your own creation in which the good and and bad are fabricated at your whim.

But now you realize that its not true.

You’re elaborate “Once Upon a Time” has always been but a mere “One Day”.

You’re extravagant “Happy Ever After” has been but a simple “The End”.

You come to find out you’re living in lies;

no, not that you're telling them,

or that someones telling you them.

But that you’re mind is creating them.

That you’re living in them. 

the bridge.

A girl walks across a broken bridge.

With terrible sanity to the right,

perfect chaos to the left

and nothingness below.

For years she avoids missing planks to stay above the nothingness.

She has spent ages on either side; struggling in the sanity or laughing in the chaos, 

for the vigorous wind has pushed her in either direction.

She’s met both friends and enemies on both sides, both begging her to stay.

Knowing she must remain on the bridge’s never-ending path, she ignores the constant voices; 

determined not to slip into the nothingness below. 

the man with the teeth.

A man began to open a can of beans with his teeth as large as a lion’s.

“Where did you get those teeth?” the girl asked the man.

“You see,” the man replied very carefully,  

“You get one wish.”

“I wished to be strong.” he continued. “To have something courageous, yet frightful. Something that would give me respect, yet terrify others.”

“But why?” asked the girl. “Wouldn’t you want others to like you? Wouldn’t you want others to be proud of who you are rather than afraid?”

“Oh, but aren’t you afraid?” the man questioned.

“No.” the girl replied.

“Then you are special.” 

The man leaned down and handed her a flower. 

“Take this flower. It is your wish. Use it wisely.”

And the man walked off.