Stories, and then Some...

it's just a small vial of blood. but it throbs in my memory like a painful, festering wound. it hangs there neatly and quietly. but its image screamed inside my head, it made my fist want to bleed on the walls.

it's just a small vial of blood, but seeing it hang by his neck made me weak. every single drop of it came from your veins, and now it is tucked safely close to his heart. my eyes might have been two large anxious question marks because he looked at me, smiled, and nodded; enough to tell me you are his.

"you create your own phantoms, you cast your own shadows..."

lethargy was the word for the day starting from the moment i woke up until to that time at night when i again enter that realm that has become your new-found home where your voice is too real, your smile too clear. and that little vial of blood sparkles with joy proudly on his chest.

"you create the most elaborate representations of your deepest and darkest fears that spill out into your waking hours, depriving you of your new-found sunshine, a sunshine that may not last long if you cannot begin to notice and treasure it..."

and then suddenly out of a moment's nowhere, a set of disconsolate words. tell me again if my dreams have extended a few tendrils into this world.