. // THE INSOMNIAC'S CALENDAR. )

[sinensys]

i cut out my heart and, dripping, pressed it into your palm. you were delighted to think you possessed it.
(except i was long overdue for an upgrade; my software is no longer compatible with obsolete organics.)

[sinensys]

loftily the fiend glides across that broad expanse, touching the four corners of the realm with its mottled wings. it glides gently, lazily - the foolish child is sealed in its ascending tomb. has it just not noticed, too enthralled by the towering heights and the mist of the sky, or is has it embraced a suffocating end as that body rises higher and higher?

the fiend peers down, counting the beasts below: a human sits on a balcony, a single ember falling from its mouth; the snarling dog stalks onwards; a tree violently shudders and shakes its teeth at the sky, hissing. these are only a few representatives of life on this miserable planet, but the fiend pays no mind to the other beings scrambling for survival. how can it when it floats so high above the rest? no, those creatures aren't worth the fiend's concerns, and they must wait for the night. there, they can compete for the moon's limited attention as they weep individually yet simultaneously; everyone wants someone to hear their troubles out, so they'll even take their thoughts to the cold yet wondrously luminous god. they don't yet know how traitorous that disinterested ghost is, the fools.

but the fiend carries on, unbothered by the morose life below it; they are beneath it. instead, it continues to press onwards, seeking horizons with new foliage and images and creatures to inspect occasionally. it can't remember the last time it stopped and rested, but it has no plans to do so. it is infatuated with the idea of progress, and it doesn't see little pieces of itself slowly become replaced with machinery as the mites eat away at the flesh and leave behind a mechanical colony. how much longer until the mites begin running out of tissue to digest and end up dying off, leaving the blind fool unattended and at the risk of falling through the realms until it reaches the lowest level?

i thought apple cider vinegar would work, but i guess i was wrong. perhaps it is too organic.

[sinensys]

"crooked fiend," she spits into the mirror.

he just smiles back sadly, a sympathetic grimace. "you're just upset you don't look like me," was the sad sigh.

she turns away indignantly and skulks away, ignoring the empty, reflective dish on the wall. she didn't need such a traitorous thing anyways, and if she had to cut it out this way, she would. anything for to achieve peace of mind, a rare commodity these days.

[sinensys]

the window's tinged with frost, and your eyes are glazed with ecstacy. you found a place to be.

i sit outside under my jacket and envy you from a safe distance.

[sinensys]

twisted ghosts in a crystal's fractals, they hound me for my mere existence - had i not existed, they would have no reason to hunt me for my skin.

but here i am.
i am here.
and i will not shatter under the pinpoint pressures of the shards of glass pressing into my spine. i will not collapse beneath the luminous yet fleshy hands of the moon, traitorous and crooked. i will not fall prey to the ghosts in the back of my skull, immobile yet never silent.

but i will be. i will remain quiet and wait for a moment to strike. i am the snake and the crane's conjoined form, a slanted thief that skitters through conversations and slinks around motives. i am that which whispers in the shadows. i am the fiend that plagues ghosts and spectres alike.

and most importantly, i am that which disregards time, a fairy tale created by men to rule over other men - a silent law by which we abide, lest we forget to power that wheezing mechanism dubbed society. but what purpose does that machine have but to compete with other machines, with other societies? why do we bother?

i am a ghost without sight, eyes stolen by a massive tumor with parasitic tendency - the brain. the brain harnesses the body, locking itself away in the otherwise empty skull, and hijacks it for personal gain.

i wish i knew its motives to be able to help or stop it.

[sinensys]

the structure collapses with nothing holding up its weight.

only i remain in the wake of my own destruction, a god in an otherwise godless realm.

[sinensys]

they walk the dog late at night together, leash loosely held in her hand. they don't talk, just listen quietly to the breathing space, the distant fireworks' raucous laughter cackling a few miles away. here, they can stand in a field, dog eagerly sniffing the cold grass; it's a miracle it hasn't gotten too cold to explore. the air prickles, gently clawing their faces.

well, the only one with a face, seeing as he is a spectre without a living body and she is a mortal.

they look up, his otherwise nonchalant expression softening at the sight - out here in the two a.m. peace, it's quite the image to see. his lips part, a sigh with white dusting trickling out. she just huffs humorlessly. all he can do is look at her in confusion and wait for her to speak: "they're all here: ursa major, ursa minor, leo. i can name them all, and their tales, and some people can go their whole lives without looking up and wondering what kinds of campfire stories must have spawned years ago when people started telling stories. muthos, the predecessor to our myth," she breathes, gaze still cast upwards. he would watch her intently if he could, but as a ghost, he could only imagine what she looked like; all he could see was the sky with her brain's filters. the mortal has the upper hand here - this is her realm, and it's under her control.

"and how little my life differs because of that," she finally continues after several moments of silence. "i know all these things, and i still make no difference. it has no purpose - it's just," a pause, "a thought, a little bit of trivia i possess that does nothing more than impress old people and irritate my peers."

all he can do is stare at that murky depth littered with shards of light, as she does. he can almost taste the bitter bile in the back of her throat, and he can feel the neck constricting under some other force's pressure. she walks away, calling the dog after her. he searches the stars for shapes, the same ones she called out. but he doesn't worry about catching up - he knows after a few moments, when the mortal remembers the spectre's creation and existence, he will dissipate and reappear just out of her line of sight, almost as though he'd stood there the whole time. he wonders why she never just learns to accept that they are the same being, just that he was cast out by her, years ago. she tells him it is impossible, or unrealistic, to match her body to his form, that she could never truly take on his shape. he smiles sadly; he is aware of the ways she could do it, but she is indecisive and skittish, and she will run and hide from everyone like she does. if he insists, she will be left completely alone, leaving the mortal to hollow out her own body while barricading the doors, a city that sieges itself to death with no real enemy in sight.

[sinensys]

i broke myself up into pieces, presenting each shard to a different person, set of people, or circumstance - some know the quiet and meek sophia, others know the tired and matter of fact sebastian, and few know the relaxed and unbothered connor. all of these are fractals of the same nameless, fragmented beast that aimlessly walks this earth. it still hasn't decided on a collected name, only temporarily veiling itself with the title "soph," and old name with a new skin and new hopes. this one hopes to find drive, or motivation in itself; this one seeks power and aims to name itself the new god of the region.

it should succeed, considering that this region is godless. the other fact to keep in mind is that there are no gods but us: we are our own gods. i am the greatest fiend around, most crooked and most in control, a god neither controlling nor controlled.

these are the ideals i name, and in naming them, i call upon them to become reality, coaxing wild daemons to be my pets and servants, plates from which i can feed.

[sinensys]

have you ever tried to breathe life into something that refused to live? i have.

(i wish my body was a thin and flexible plastic, the kind of plastic found on beaches, passed back and forth between eight year old children. how light and lofty i would be.)

[sinensys]

i strike thee down, nameless beast of many names!
(why does that hurt)