A nickname
confirmed as real.
Instinct revealing the nature
we evolved into,
or perhaps adapted to
in order to be defined.
23:181
Felicia’s days had been long,
unbearably dull
and void of hope
since the day the beanstalk
had fallen.
She’d cut off communication with Jack,
too ashamed to reply,
but had still held a secret hope
that everything could return
to how it was.
Now the landers had cut that option
and once again the ground
was beyond her reach.
She took down Jack’s drawings,
too painful a reminder,
but couldn’t bear to throw them away.
Instead, she tried to continue,
seal her heart and dreams
and just exist.
There was no other choice left.
23:180
Fog is a ground cloud,
hiding the mysteries of the sky
that have fallen
but are too high,
too much
for those defined by gravity
to bear.
23:179
Rant with me to bond,
slag others off to win my trust,
don’t think about
when you’re not here
you are our subject,
our irk,
and we bond over
hating you.
But you will be at home,
enjoying life,
so perhaps you deserve it.
23:178
The injustice of expectation
to do what others do
and who I ignore
as they struggle
alone.
But reverse the roles
and all is wrong,
all must be corrected,
all must understand
how unfair this is.
Only then will I be
human again.
23:177
Calculate to create,
measure their mass
and deem if they’re suitable,
or if it’s time
to return them
to the mould.
23:176
Hinted moments that
lead to this fate,
explaining without showing
that the end hasn’t come,
that you lived on
and fulfilled your goals
while remembering
those that could not.
23:175
Stuck against a wall
of starvation and struggling hope,
witness the hand
hoping to save you,
who cannot contend with
the sticky hold
and smears the body apart
that it wished to free.
Was it better this way?
23:174
Jack’s dreams were haunted
with Felicia, crushed to goo,
torn apart,
eaten whole.
He woke with a cry,
the image of her being
wrapped in plant stalks,
crushing her,
still imprinted on his eyes.
The beanstalk loomed beside him,
still growing,
creeping into the sky
to block out the sun.
All sleep deserted him
as he pulled the giant’s cloth
from his bag,
ripping and wrapping
it around his limbs,
already feeling a floating sensation.
He hooked his axe
across his bag straps
and used both hands to grip
the beanstalk,
letting its still growing length
lift him into the sky.
23:173
Plunge back in
and experience the shock
of imposter syndrome.
Who are you
if you can’t be that person
from before.
What worth
is left in you?
Scribbled Thoughts 