Bifurcated

I’ve been feeling like I could write a lot lately. I think it’s a sign that the mind is having a case of the troubles, and that a bout of re-election between brain cells is undergoing (very mildly, as they prefer to backstab or scandalise each other rather than win in a public debate).

(Also, trepanation has failed; the family discovered me in the storeroom with my 3 Steps to a Successful Trepanation Set fully ready to go, and has confiscated it, though I won’t be surprised if they already had it destroyed. What a waste. It has a week full-guarantee return period.)

It’s nights like this that I wish there was a meteor shower.

Streaks of light across the skies, as though we’re watching the migration of a million of stars bidding farewell and high-tailing in a jiffy. And, between all of them, a million wishes, by those that believe in wishing on falling stars.

Just so.

Just for the sake of things. For the mood. For the world to limn things into words that you can whisper out as breaths that disappear into the darkness. The esurient demands that such a night deserves. Your rights. My rights. Maybe.

Fate is never that adjuvant.

I want a lot of things.

I want to stand at the edge of the world and watch as the rising sun incarnadines the skies. I want to take a hand and lead it away from the rain, and under the zinc roof watch as the shower isolates us from staring eyes, like a curtain, a veil. I want to grow ten feet high and sprout wings and take flight and raze the world with fire and terror until a gentle hand beckons my patience, and sooths my pain. I want to wish that things are just as simple as a red thread at the end of your finger that will lead you the right way.

I want a valid reason that I can put into words, say it out, mould it, shape it, tear it, throw it, and let the winds carry it away.

I want a valid reason that I can use to placate this bifurcated mind.

I want a reason I can feel is a reason.

I don’t want reason.

I want to do the easiest thing but the easiest thing here is the hardest to do.
I want freaking balls that power my guts and let me drive through and out and into the unknown void, come what fucking may.

I want no excuses.

I want no doubts.

I want that little sign that tells me that this is the right thing to do.

Yeah, I think I know what I want.

I want


you