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?
23:172
Jack travelled deeper into the forest,
his new weapon tested on any inhabitants
wishing to challenge him.
Memories of Crazy Mary’s story
haunted him and he scanned
for clues of its existence,
perhaps a giant’s bones lay
forgotten in this place.
Perhaps it was all a lie.
He travelled two days
then set to form a clearing,
any further would have been pointless,
he needed to be within
a manageable distance
of the old beanstalk,
where Felicia had sent her letters.
As the sun set he
dug a hole with his hands,
dropping the precious beans in
and covering them again
with all the gentleness
of a father tucking his child in bed.
Then he waited,
dozing fitfully,
for the magic to happen.
23:171
Jack gave up on caution
and ran,
speeding through the trading post
with his prize clutched to his chest.
No one chased him,
too concerned with their own wares
to help rewrite the injustice.
Still, he didn’t stop until he was
a mile deep into the forest,
resting upright against a large tree
and examining his new weapon.
It was an axe, sharp and well-kept,
the handle long enough to
grasp in both hands.
Finally, he was ready.
Scribbled Thoughts 