I was having a discussion with my friend a while ago. We were talking about true love, about fairytales and happy endings.

The concept of happy endings is a fascinating. For one of thing, why would you want a happy ending? Is it worth the wanting and the waiting, the wishing and the wasting? After all, it is a deathwish. Endings, happy or otherwise are, well, endings. Close your eyes, count your blessings, count your burdens. They're both worth living for. Laughter and tears, hopes and fears, pathetic rhyming, it's all part of life. And which are which? Chalk lines are rigid in the sun, but just wait for the rain. See how solid they are then, and decide, whether you'd rather have the sunshine or the clouds.

I choose it all, because I can, because I don't believe in endings anymore.

one tear
caught between my eyelashes
a prisoner, hidden within
hidden from the outside world
it would take only take one
clinquant drop of salty dew
an unwitting betrayal
that would sting my griefs anew
never show weakness
if you must
deal with the darkness
in silence and cold
where no one can hear
shut out the world
they'll enhance each of your fears
turn the flood back
drown yourself
if it helps
but promise me you won't
say that it's too much
you can handle this
sharp edge's cleansing touch
slide the razor across your wrist
stay strong never stray
there's a loose thread
but your edges won't fray
you're already the living dead

Plangent
i s o l a t e d
sighs echo through the church
tolled by the sounding of the
p s y c h e

The Psyche

I live
for sandcastles in the setting sun
for numbers on clocks for tomorrow
for the things that I create
and those that I destroy
for happily ever nows for today
for dreams in the wind
for the feelings I cannot feel
and those that I can
for yesterday
for what might have been
for what is
for what could be
for black shadows on the snow
for relections in the ocean
for the rain in my hair
for the dirt under my fingernails
for the grass beneath my toes
for the fever in my own eyes
for the people I will never know
for the blood in my veins
for the places I will never go
for the pennies beneath the tracks
for the dandelions that will always grow


The Dandelion Psyche is living for yesterday, tomorrow, and most importantly for today.