I am not good at plain speech.
Unless of course, it's my novels. Then yes I can do it. Most of my personal ramblings are entirely too poetic. Entirely to... unreachable.
Maybe it's just how I am. When I try to convey the deep feeling within I am often left with music ringing in my ears.
Well hell ya'll I am a poet. I dream in lyrics.
This becomes a problem when trying to communicate.
How desperately I want to communicate. To share a little of myself with others. To be validated in the doing.
But why?
Why indeed?
I know why.
Because I have been silenced far to long. I am the weird and the confusing. I am the dreamwalker.
This now... this can be uncomfortable. I understand that. I strive to expect nothing from anyone. It is so much easier this way. So much easier to cover your glasses with mud instead of rose petals.
So damned depressing.
Ah... humanity! Humans... we are such animals.
I have dug too deep.
I just want to say that I have seen you. I have seen your words. I have felt your presence. I have found within these something worthy. Something valid.
I honestly don't hate anyone. Even those who have tried to silence me, tried to kill me.
I just want to be heard. I want to be seen. To be felt.
There I go dreaming again
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She walks into the shadows. Where misty lights seem pinpoints in the distance. They are beacons. They call and she follows. She cannot help it.
There is a shivering that starts at the base of the spine and radiates out to the arms and legs. Freezing her fingers and toes. The icy feeling seeps into her bones. A sick, heavy feeling weights her chest. Yet she continues on. Constantly moving forward. Reaching out when she feels close enough, only to catch air.
Disillusionment...
Still, the promise of warmth drives her. Her hunger pushes her, each fumbling step to the next. Towards those pinpoints.
The last vestiges of hope.
