Monday, February 15, 2016

jewel in the sky: radiant undeservings.

for this one last time, i tell myself- like how i do every day- will my daughter imprint a disapproving stare in my mind's eye. so it is there now, my daughter- i care not to let go. i do regret, i've not a crown to give, darling daughter. all i've got are kisses and books and half-completed inventions. my power is insincere. an obvious sham. my power is not quite a match for your power, daughter. so i must say goodbye, goodbye. to never-anywhere i do go.
myself and my evil go. 'tis where we always go when i remember my daughter's eyes, leering with understandable resentments...i cannot see into her soul. she does not love me. hereupon, my evil. mush toward how we feel pointed. are we aimless? then never-anywhere do we go. i don't know how to go there, or how to find a way out, not quite so in words- such abstractions know nothing of what i believe in. but we have a look- we wind up here. this land is a secret. it negates all who visit. i go to be negated, then. i don't know how to not be hurt. i choose it. only my daughter believed me when i would say so. if it is so that i don't know how to not be hurt, might my dreams come true, then? 
it is past sun down, for certain- of course, i'm lost. i walk through untouched snow raised as high as my knees. without death present, i trudge onward- i lurch. i break the seamless surface of a hidden, frozen lake. o! deception- great barrier i bow down to- spell-cast mirror. drowning, struggling ungracefully, we are surrounded by hungry wolves giving me sight of their fierce, wildly sharp fangs. i've never been here before like this and i never intend on returning.
and an enormous, magnificent beast takes me and my evil for prisoner in his castle, equally magnificent. i'm rather relieved, and, in turn, surprised at my relief. nobody has to know about it except my evil. i will never have to worry about anything again as i have zero intentions of making attempts to outrun this beast. i'll rot away and die. i will be proud to die that way, methinks.

images of my sad, poignant daughter- the unaffected girl. memories of her conjure themselves upward, from outside my window. this place is haunted. white steam rises from the courtyard of which i've a view. it is where that beast bellows, tortures me with images i'd prefer not to be bothered by. just a bit further out, wolves howl. further is my good girl- perhaps hanging the bed-sheets required of the day on the laundry line. surely she's being courted by unwanted admirers, preoccupied to the degree of evading a sense of utter unmagnificence- insignificance. she is better than this, like she had told me. oh, if that beast saw her with his mirror and courted her, i believe they'd take the world by storm and share a lovely sense of togetherness. it is my fault- all my fault, for i do not have magic of my own.