Goodbye Ink and Paper Vingt

I had cried wolf twice before.

The hairs on the back are full of electricity, every fragment, amplified.

We are standing together trying to sort out the mess.

Someone wishing harm, trying to wreak their havoc on my sanctuary.

Their actions tug at my curiosity.

There is a place for such as you and I.

A softly glowing blue light searches, it spots muddied footprints.

We still stand, holding a look, neither knows what to say.

Fear.

I didn't mean to play the damsel, it was forced on me.

I like to choose my parts, not have them thrown at me.

I don't mind being caused injury, I can take care of myself; it's the ones I care about, their fear.

A little baby cries, she was awakened by deranged howls and unearthly laughter.

I hold her tightly in my arms, peering out the window through drizzled drops, she looks up trustingly, I spot them, running away.

It is amusing to you?

This cannot be, I have difficulty relating to that kind of cruelty.

Crux.

The sounds, screeching, I suspected a catfight by the unnatural tones.

Stomping breaks through the quiet, it stemmed from heavy feet.

I can imagine the heel in the shoe pounding against the rain covered wood.

The rain seeps into the ridges.

The shoe leaves marks, ridges on the damp ground.

There is only one kind of mark I like to see.

We survey the area with bewilderment.

A puzzling predicament.

I'm being taken over by the fear.

I am a weapon of massive dissipation.

Fault.

We hold wide brimmed mugs of South American nectar, fueling suspicions.

How could this be?

Torment.

Hold me!

Yesterday.

What must come before.

Tomorrow, will it really come?

It's surely nearer now.

If it does come will you still be human?

Detectives.

All I ask of you is one thing that you'll never do.

Would you put your words into an activity.

Through my shiftless body.

Listlessness.

I didn't ask for anything.

Or did I?

Would you tell me your life story, I only want to put it together, the puzzle.

The pieces are too scattered, and most will remain far beyond reach.

Am I so little that you just didn't see?

Please be careful, you know where I am, so why step so hard on the ground?

I should have opened my eyes sooner.

I couldn't say for certain, but next time I'll divine the direction of your steps.

Rainbows and trunks of gold.

The eyepatches suppress at least half of my means to gain a better understanding.

Sunken phrases.

The ship has sailed to another sea.

Buried treasures.

She can't be still because of sixteen years of standing there.

Emanating restlessness, Eliminating all kindness, seeking me out.

There are rainbows after April storms.

I am pouring bubbles into a pot of gold.

I recline into the prisms.

I think I may just sit here awhile, on the very top.

I am the amused one, occasionally glancing below.

Come up if you like, I am inviting you.

Machiavellian Schemes.

Her conscience follows him in the streets, flagstones shake under your feet.

Too articulate to bother noticing me.

The wind picks up, carrying leaves and small twigs.

I grab at one.

Trying to steer you clear from harm.

White flowers only budding.

Don't bloom too soon.

The frost still has a chance of getting to you.

This is the fault of whoever let you out.

Keeping company with dehydrated, narrowed eyed girls.

Selfish, aren't we?

We are not here for the right reason.

We're here for them.

Why did it take so long?

Was there a queue in the post office?

Always resurfacing, I hope that it will one day be forgotten.

Chapter XIX.

That One Should Avoid Being Despised And Hated:

"I consider that a prince ought to reckon conspiracies of little account when his people hold him in esteem; but when it is hostile to him, and bears hatred towards him, he ought to fear everything and everybody. And well-ordered states and wise princes have taken every care not to drive the nobles to desperation, and to keep the people satisfied and contented, for this is one of the most important objects a prince can have."

" I say that whoever will consider it will acknowledge that either hatred or contempt has been fatal to the above-named emperors, and it will be recognized also how it happened that, a number of them acting in one way and a number in another, only one in each way came to a happy end and the rest to unhappy ones." -Nicolo Machiavelli (The Prince)

I may require some suggestions for my reading list.

Lately I have been caught up reading Huxley, and okay, I can admit this...Vogue and Vanity Fair. The VF playground articles are my favorire (they are society pages.) This shouldn't come as a shock to people who know me. I have been set on getting married to Albert 12th Prince Von Thurn Und Taxis for a good four years.... http://www.thurnundtaxis.de/

Word of advice:

Do not under any circumstances read Capote's Other Voices, Other Rooms while listening to Wagner's Death of Isolde, you will cry. There is the possibilty that I was just overly emotional. Gee, I wonder why.
I've been writing more frequently on this because I lost my flashdrive and I don't have the will to spend money on a new fancy notebook, (I am very particular). Excuses.

Donations? You know you want to get rid of me... ; )