Fairy Letter #1

Lovely love, I fairy dust sprinkle coded messages for my pretty seraphs to make arrive beyond your scientific borders. Glitter loops and dotted i’s, my heart’s ink bleeding out of such ciphers. My lovey dove, my babycakes warlord of intellect, the phantom battle rages on within minds of importance, that I know, but can’t you lay off the nuclear code during our unprompted smooch sessions? Know I know, eccentricity will deliver my demise, a sharp psyche overrun by whimsy and sparks, but allow me to interrupt our shifts once again, for love keeps the plotting wits intact, sweet dimmest. I am aware of the affectionate glances you throw at the little hearts I scatter all over your margins, aware of the fact that without my rainbow’s strike you would drown in rationale, reach the bottom of the logic’s well, and float back up into madness, indeed I am. Don’t be silly, my stern researcher with the swoon-worthy dimples, for I am Fairy Princess of the Funhouse Nation, and you should bow down to thy queen’s jelly-shoe-clad feet, and let the light-up magic wand do its party trick.

Yours Truly, she whom you cannot ignore!

Stardust Baby Blue

Icy hot pinks and stardusted baby blues, I gleam along. Confusing days that pass me by in a whirlwind of sleepy sighs and bobbings of head, interesting, for sure. The quiet drawl, the lull before a candied revelation, the in-between passing of seasons that makes my senses inhale and exhale in anticipation; what’s to come? I’ve been getting hazier as the days paint their sequences repeatedly, perhaps it is the dimming of sparkle that always happens right after a peculiar high, a preparation of the self before another one. It comes, and it goes, this colorful showcase of mine. I hug the plushie too tightly, I acquire edge, I dream in and out of life, and I do it again. I am but a fairy princess waiting for a comet to strike, for my promotion into society to begin, or for my future place to be carved out of glitter glue and stubborn faux strength. Hazy, hazy, hazy. Marshmallows and ice cream, horrid to the tongue, tasty to the mind, colorful imagery. Hold the thought, dream some more, prepare. ‘Tis the limit before a new gleam, that’s it.

In Ruination We Dwell

Oh my darling everything, you and your fantastical propositions. To marry in decay makes the hearts in my glitter eyes swell, kissing my knuckles with such tender potency, akin to bombs dropped o’er their headquarters, it makes the menace in me give a princess twirl. These scintillating ashes, remnants of yore, that you’ve so carefully produced to bathe my head like so much snow, artifacts of our love are for sure. You in your generalissimo hues of gray, have won my tender side again and again, and to be the powerless populace reduced to none by your immaculate boot, a girl can only dream. I hanker for you the same way the vermin enemy aches for the return of its doomed nation’s glow, I crave you the same way their wounded troops long to see us made insignificant. Oh my darling beloved, my stygian grandee, you’ve done it again, out of destruction you’ve made a pleasure fest.

Aliens Have Landed... Jack O' Lantern

 

Anomaly

And from these spectral shards, these phantom ashes

We are presented with a post-world of churned possibilities.

Fleeting whispers of a past that sharpened its blade

Until it thinned out into a dejected sigh, a poorly timed joke. 

Shall the new green scintillate its way out of fading sludge?

Can human engineer its way out of impending loneliness?

If the sun, bloated orb of stubbornness, can still rise daintily,

Can’t us criminals follow suit? Allow us to be selfish once again.

If goodbye can only be executed through the big way out,

How can we gather courage to salute once more?

How can we crawl towards a forced outcome, beyond failed circuits,

If the merry-go-round already has oxidized its final twirl?

And yet, like flags that once waved in their gluttonous pride,

We shall keep on sucking vitality out of the gas mask,

Keep on borrowing chemical life out of its obsolete entrails,

Until the days stop abandoning us in a boundless prison

Of bleach rays and graying horizons, and we rise once more

To conjecture our way onto the next dream, accurate this time. 

Context Mystified, The Fashionable Shut-In

Curl and curl the cursive written loops that imbue anonymity 

With grandiose meaning. The self-imposed poet deity shines

Caustic light of revelation upon all that goes against its lines,

That render clarity out of candy reverie, the gumdrop hermit 

Carved out of starry allegories, equipped with a filmic mind.

Through elliptic figure eights the elusive laureate skates away

And beyond the already-trodden constellations of a word’s world

To enter the outlandish, make sense by mastering its very lack

Rephrase the straight-forward, revise what has been known.

A flushed face caused by smooth creation, make-believe at play

The fashionable shut-in wields the diamond pen, stanzaic violence

On speed-dial, on the front lines against the dreary grayscales. 

To etch dazzling verses onto opalescent jewels, made for was I

Convoluting the context you so desperately hanker for, believe me

I shall keep doing until my incantations run their glinting banks dry

If the rational treasure is what you seek, my numerical wanderer 

Afraid I am that here you will find, not the riches of structure 

But a most hallowed thing: the eclipsed scribbler’s candy cane heart.

 

Ribboned Beast

 

As a scarecrow of unnaturally rouged cheeks I moved 

Through a stilted, actorly life. Heavy-coarse ribbon in head

My eyes, for tenderness of any kind, willing to sacrifice. 

What an odd thing, already dejected before a premature peak, 

My worldly arrival. Flesh of strained polyester tirelessly mimicking 

The doll’s cupid’s bow, her silk-soft grace, the serene expression

Of porcelain doves. But alas, with elbows acute in their pointiness, 

And limbs far too long, my prettiness-for-the-taking dropped

Lower than the accepted amount, leaving me unnoticed, forlorn.

Broads and ghouls, illogical virgins tighten their purity 

Around necks that beg to be axed by the ruling sprite’s hand. 

Their willingness, pinkish souvenirs for the vampyr onlookers,

What a masterly jest. Presently unaffected, mocking all restrictions

I might as well be a jack o’ lantern, flickering my derisive light

Casting a leer at such a preposterous correlation, a world’s crime.

But don’t get my verses annihilated just yet, there’s more to this 

Taunting, wordy unraveling than just the scorching of the effigy’s head. 

Truth be told, secret to be no more, I have shifted from my original

Tango’s steps, the darling denialist now bears the skull-tipped cane

That strikes the lovely prisoner down to her flowery end. 

I am no creature of redemption, I have axed lilies in my head-quarters

As well, and these sparkling rituals might be a prison for some birdies 

Until you see yourself hitting the crouching princess from the other end.