I am beginning to feel better, hands that perpetually around my own neck, ringing it, and choking without realizing that I can just let go. I am so tired, exhausted from the chaotic pacing in the middle of the night, to find a safe place. I am reminded of my friend from California, and a night we spent huddled together under his jacket, crying while smoking to stay awake, we wanted to sleep so bad, our eyes heavy with the act of finding safety, away from the burning abandoned building were fires were started and blamed on drug addicts who fell asleep with fires started. No one knows the truth, there is something or someone out here, and it is hunting us, and I am afraid all the time, so I spread a rumor that I am dangerous, hiding behind perceptions of people like me, it keeps people away enough that I can survive.

I am prone to foxhole prayers, praying to anything that will listen, saying over and over, please help me, if you help me I am done… but I am not done, because I can’t rest, because it is not safe, because they come while you sleep. I don’t know who they are, I just know people I know are disappearing and they keep pointing fingers at us, and it is not true, we love each other, and are so afraid, and would do anything to sleep. I am so tired.

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I can still talk to you though we exist not in the same dimension, all the time at least, I visit you because I see you, you see me and you speak and I hear you because I listen. I listen to everything, to the mutterings of the under spoken word, to the shouting to mad dark night, to the words callously yelled into chaotic dark night, because they used to consume me, but they don’t anymore, because I realized I can cast them out on here.

I travel back and forth to Misery through my mind, and through others, who I see, stuck there, and they speak to me from there. I can see it in them speaking to me, speaking through them now, this came to me last night after a dream, I have been having strange dreams.

I am thinking that ghosts sometimes just want to be heard and are not used to being heard so say thing that they have always wanted to say very quickly and it is up to me to decode them because the universe is showing me them and them me for a reason, positive being the key over negative.

What is the last thing you learned?

I owe you the sun, the moon, and the stars for being someone who attacked you when you were just trying to help me.

Damien de Soto, last night ***

What does that even mean? Last before what? Last thing before sleep? The last thing before bed yesterday? Last thing I allowed myself to be taught? The last thing I learned in general?

Is this up to interpretation? Is that why it is phrase this way?

What the heck? I don’t get it.

You really think you are better than everyone else don’t you?

Who said that?

You. Just now.

No, I didn’t. And no I don’t.

Yes, you did, it is up there said, by me. That is how…

That is not how that comes across, I was asking for clarity.

You were pointing out a flaw with the question to avoid answering because you are used to being held somewhere under a light and asked questions about drunk or high behavior by police.

This is not a cop asking me this.

Then what is the last thing you learned?

Before bed? I’ll take it that way, which is the only way I can take it.

Yeah?

I learned I am lucky and grateful that I have been gifted the ability and chance to do anything at all because I have lived a life of selfishness and deserve none of this, only being granted it by the grace of God or my higher power.

Thank you, good answer.

That was easy, and rewarding.

Yeah, I know.

Nice mental pat on the back.

I know that too.

Jerk.

Noted.

A world of blindness, of darting pupils, plagued students of pain, heavy eyes, lacking water even to cry, missing and not able to weep, not able to cleanse, eye stuck together with lack of sleep, batting perpetually, flipping over pupils that feel like thousand lashes.

I am transfixed with your form, shadow dances against your form, beating with the same observation that beats out of my eyes, dancing to catch whatever light radiates out of your moonlight skin

You are the hands of the moon touching my skin, with your hands that radiate the warm unearthly kissing light onto a heart of chaotic night, lighting my eyes with the kiss of the stars, that twinkle through the pores of your rose scented skin, smelling of dancing on flowers that in my blurry eyes look like the hearts of those shadow cast pacers of madness..

You make me… stop.. you make everything alright, my Rei, my Rei of light.

I can die, now… and I am alright…