. // THE INSOMNIAC'S CALENDAR. )

[sinensys]

the eyes may be the windows to the soul, but what happens if yours happen to be coated with a thin sheet of aluminum? what happens if your windows become mirrors? do you sit in the dark, light from the surface blocked out by the flimsy, paper-thin metal? does the mirror seal off the soul, preventing ventilation, allowing it to suffocate - or worse, does the rot set in with insufficient light and air flow? does having a candle remedy the dark enough to not need to break the mirror?

must i manually scrape off the metal, jumping up to reach the offending reflection? i put it in place without realising what i'd done, but surely i can remove it, even if it is painstaking? right?


right?

[sinensys]

agitation brims behind his tongue, filling up the space in the very top of the throat. there's no need for this agitation, but nonetheless, it's there. is it frustration with past performances? past effort? is it the weighing deadlines of a fast-paced class that seems to be ongoing since the fall? or could it be exhaustion of some sort, whether it be just physical or mental.

the gravel crunches beneath his feet, the sound diminishing with the downpour, and he revels in the feeling of grains shifting beneath his feet. someday, he promises himself. someday he, too, will find a way to balance life out like his weight distributes along the drenched gravel.

i just hope he doesn't begin feeling the agitation strengthening - the chokehold is something i'm familiar with. it is self destructive, but difficult to cure.

[sinensys]

i promise so much,
yet every promise is a tightly clutched vine,
adorned with thorns and a familiar dye.

i promise to change,
but i am still a ghost
in my own body,
misshapen with disuse.

i promise to facilitate change,
but i fall into my own pattern
which informally prevents
others from changing.

i promise too much
and one day
i will find a pile
of thorns
littered discreetly across my desk.
(they call themselves thumbtacks,
so i won't forget again)

[sinensys]

commitm

[sinensys]

i can't event commit to that much, can i.

[sinensys]

the water at your fingertips,
your hand in the bowl
but your gaze is distant
and i know your mind has flown

off to worlds
where the meaning
of your sentence once spoken
hasn't changed,
but the words are rearranged

off to worlds
where instead of going
right
you took a soft
northwestern turn
alone

off to worlds
where the future
is murkier than your coffee
both are decaffeinated
but one still
invigorates

but the water is at your fingertips,
and your hand is in the bowl,
and the bright, blue letters
glow a bring blue 02:24

and i know
your mind has gone elsewhere
but i can't get you home

[sinensys]

i have condemned myself to a life of longing for something, but not enough to do something about it. it isn't a program's rigid ruling, but another entity's gentle murmur that stops me from acting. it skulks about the corners of my vision, skittering across the room - what is it looking for? is it just another ghost from the future, or maybe a mischievous god's alternate form, designed to torment? is it malicious or bored?

how do i speak with it in a way that will change anything?

[sinensys]

why does my tongue
hurt when i have not
bitten down on it
in these last few
hours?
too much to say,
not enough to speak.

[sinensys]

one day
i will wake up
and be no one:
my past deeds
and transgressions
will be forgiven

ordinarily,
such a phrase
would be treated
as a fear,
but i do not
fear it

tomorrow
i will wake up
and be no one:
my past needs
and desires
will be given up on

ordinarily,
such a phrase
would be treated
as a concern,
but i am not
concerned by it

yesterday
i woke up
and was no one:
my last factions
and associations
were forgotten

ordinarily,
such a phrase
would be treated
as a strength,
but this
i truly do
fear:
i drifting am drifting, drifting drifting drifting, drifting, drifting away

[sinensys]

liars are typically deceitful and frightful creatures, skittish and fearful. this reaction - the act of lying - is seen by them as a defensive measure, reserved for sudden skirmishes and close calls, and this is not a cause for concern. most people have let that slanted ghost surface, usually only as long as a situation calls for smooth yet sharp tongues, before returning that ghost to its tomb and granting it dormancy.

the trouble is in the frequency a liar is pulled from its rest, from its dormant and peaceful state. should the liar be called upon too often, there is the risk of permanent awakening. should one experience a ghost's interest in permanent control, it is imperative that they lay down new rules and put the liar back into hibernation, lest the ghost become the new pilot of the body. if such is the case, then the original will fall asleep instead, leaving the master of deception at the helm. the longer a liar is left at the helm - regardless of reason or purpose - the more difficult it is for the original mind to regain its initial truthfulness and control of the body and brain.

should one encounter such a fiend, it is imperative you run or pick up your own otherwise-dormant weapon to prepare for close combat. a rogue liar is a formidable foe and must be treated with caution; those unprepared for a skirmish must seek shelter immediately and alert local authorities.