Brain Sister.

Conjoined at the head,
The flower-haired girl sees it all.
Put to the test,
A far distance will be produced between the sisters
Yet,
Nothing will phase them.

Turn me

Locks of hair brush upon arms

Tickles form as spiders dance across pale surfaces

How I wish those ringlets were yours.

red eyed devil

what's the need for anger

just a small glass of spilt milk,

makes you fall out of your own mind.

eyes turning red

face wrinkles beyond imagination 

unwanted company hidden behind lies and excuses

admit your feelings,

the only person upset by this situation. 

Doubts,

I have doubts.

bzzzzz

bzzzz.

the sound that rings through my ears

reverberating throughout my body

as the once waved and lengthful black locks gently fall to the ground

slowed by gravity

they float like feathers 

detaching from the once uplifted bird

now lifeless

free falling to the hard cement suburbia.

Long ago there once was.

A child with an imagination none of us could imagine.

His room a fine palace,

The walls peeling with victorian papers

The floors covered with archaic rugs.

Creatures of myriad assortments 

So minuscule one needed a microscope

So immeasurable you could not measure the size

So bright there was no chance of eye contact

So dark you were afraid to gaze

The child ruled this palace

Not alone but with every other fellow

They directed themselves

The weather

The clocks

The light

The living.

Things soon became harsh

Disagreements of the plenty

Arguments thrown around like stuffed dolls,

Things became harsh.

The child established frustration

Anger

Sadness.

With every blink, his friends began to vanish

He became befuddled

Attempts at keeping his eyes spread wide

Only causing pain and impoverishment.

The fluttering of lids begins, the friends reducing,

Reducing

Reducing.

Scared, the boy closes his eyes

Retreating into the darkness where there is no loss.

Opening the lids, revealing a pair or darting marbles,

A blank and empty bedroom appears.

Nothing is living,

Only a bed, scattered clothing upon the white carpets.

Things have been this way ever since

Yet to see the friends that once existed.

Now only a figment of the imagination he once had.

Long ago there once was

A child with an imagination, 

beyond this mans imagination.

Steady

My hands are shaking,
rattling as though chains are being broken
Clenched apart with those thick metal pliers of yours
Pieces fall in the process,
never able to be retained.