here on earth

early in the aughts

i met you once and i thought you were something special. Darty gleaming crystals shot violently across the room. You packed your little thing with such conviction I remember feeling sick with envy of your life. The act was small but I saw your being. You had a confidence that I craved. From then on everything reminded of you. Snowy owls and the mini stripe of the jeans. The amount of time I spent in bed to the feather I put in my hat (which I later lost). I once saw an owl while driving on the dirt road with A. It swooped down in front of my headlights. It didn't turn its head, it plunged forward in false ignorance as if mocking our reaction. I watched it then as I watched you before. That makes more sense to me now.

Your mane is fiery now. Once round and white, you sometimes frighten me with how much you float when you walk. I remember the time you were there, I remember the time you weren't. Where are you? I'd like to watch you when you're alone, I'd know then. Maybe I wouldn't want to, but I know it'd have to be better than the truth you think you're spouting.

Remember when i spoke to you and later heard it, singing to me. It may have been my voice but at the time i meant it for another, and now I know it was my mind asking me to watch out from you. Gunshots out my window, sand scratches on my nails. Forty seven bedwetters and thumbsuckers and forty seven abandoned glasses of water at my bedside. You're sometimes there when I need you to be, but more often than not I'm scared to see you.

Do you know how often my teeth crumble my sleep?

I worry for the people who worship. Someone who worships anything is mildly frightening, to me. Those who worship fleshy beings are the most intense. I worshipped you for a time. Maybe my old mane is returning. It was never this wild, before.

Sometimes I think she'll get it, and I hope she does. More often than not I'm pleasantly surprised by her despite feeling decades older, still. I hope I get it.

I hope they all get it.

I'd be lying if i said I don't enjoy my time in the clouds. The sky is vast and I enjoy jumping in. But I stopped believing in God when I was young and I know the board spoke from our fingers, the same ones that made our dolls rub up against eachother; the same fingers that picked our noses and licked what came out. I'm ok with out them. Sometimes I just wish they'd all join me back down here on Earth. Though maybe its my fault, afterall... I don't much enjoy being unclothed, and, eye contact really does freak me out.

I just think It could be dangerous up there, all the time.