Figment

I have ideations.

               Fantasies of long necklaces

               That adorn me while I chill.

               Of bracelets as thick as curdled blood

               And bright as MAC’s Ruby Woo.

Ideations:

               Of flying and landing on the asphalt.

               Bones crackle from the free fall.

               Splayed across the floor.

Fantasies:

               Of ephemeral dreams

               And ethereal realities

               Of not waking up

               Slowly mixing tonics and drugs.

I have ideations.

               They whisper to me, or

               Vividly shows a picture of me

               Cold-hearted, pale, and lackluster.

I close my eyes.

               Hide under the sheets,

               And make fists from my hands.

               Waiting…

                                             Am I still going to wake up tomorrow?

-K

Birth and death. What could be more monstrous than that? We like to deceive ourselves and call it wondrous and beautiful and majestic, but it's freakish, let's face it.

      -Beggarmaster, A Fine Balance by Rohinton Mistry