. // THE INSOMNIAC'S CALENDAR. )

[sinensys]

for too long i have left myself here, waiting for the both the end and for the beginning of praise from others -- countless little notes, hidden in code and hung on a billboard poll, left to entitle myself and entice others. i have grown weary, and now i grow wary of my needy ways. perhaps i will find peace in depositing my thoughts in a new place, aged with time and marred with everlasting life.

but for now, i leave this as a warning for myself.

for now, i leave this until i have found these words' renewal in a realm previously ignored. expect this thread to be gone, for death to claim its castle of ash, and soon i will see to it that this beast and its relics transfer over safely.

remember take care of yourself. you, alone, remain as the crowned figure in your realm.

[sinensys]

i speak from the bottom of the well, my fingernails laden with algae and grime; the slick green whispered of lush forests to me, and i, foolishly, descended downwards to it. the sands above ignore my pleading scrawls, and in the face of surreptitious slights and granular acid viciously striking me, i sought that gentle greenery. i sought peace of mind, and so i severed contact with the lands i once called barren.

i left behind everything and everyone, and while the deep well i sit in has its own secrets and unlocked skillsets and interests for me, i am still alone. i am still a coward who sits silently, idly, waiting for someone, for something, anything.

and so to you up at the top, peering down at my mangled form, i say this from the bottom of my heart and from the bottom of this well: no one will reach out to you unless you reach out first. that crooked god 'time' will not forgive those who are unwilling, and without a good show, it will forget about me and my weak frame, my skull and my spirit trapped beneath the surface and surrounded by damp green stone on all sides except above me. do not let it do the same to you -- not now as i try to scale the treacherous slime, and not ever once i get back up.

that god has already trued to mock me for my attachments, and although i learned quite a bit on my wean from this silly little website, i will not carve the well out of my life. not without more reason than self-inflicted shame.

(i don't know what spooked me then, but i don't think i'm afraid of it right now.)

[sinensys]

although i, too, can speak that slanted tongue like any other canted beast, i see the keywords that bind men and gods alike -- that veil was revealed to me in a murky pool, lightened with my unsteady shadow as the moon veiled the day with its crooked disinterest and mockery. i see the workings and work to craft an ever-expanding library of events, both real and unreal, past and future. i speak as no oracle, and i am no milky-eyed prophet whose premonitions have devoured any unlisted fates. no, instead, i am but a mere recluse, my hollowed out frame slowly filling with labels as i identify the furniture i once blindly perched on. with these revelations, i question ubiety and dogma: muck and mist part for me only when i have chosen to leave my residence in the doorways, leaning against the frame but never truly inside or out. i have ripped out my inner worlds and replaced fantasy with machinery, a mockery of a skull and its occupants.

i speak in italics, and i understand it on occasion too, it is safe to say. i would have liked to have spoken without that offset cant of my neck, a soft rotation to the right and brows shifting to convey any (and most) emotion. i will question the things i say and why i say phrases, and perhaps the doors i once stupidly closed to others will begin to resurface as pieces of my personality surface as well. i built towers to protect and elevate myself, but i have no enemy but the single one who follows me in my shadows and reflections. i will look harder to see just who skulks in the corner of my vision, but for now, i find the opportunity to think about the words i use daily fulfilling enough.

i wish you the same luck, wherever you may searching for the pieces you never knew you had or purposefully neglected. i trust you to take the time to truly study yourself.

[sinensys]

too much to say,
but not enough to speak
-- or so the stilted men claim.
however stunted their growth was,
they have recovered with
tall wooden platforms
to elevate themselves.

perhaps my sullen meekness lies
in my need to mediate
the bold
and in my refusal to build
the unbridged.

how i would have liked
to have been a beach ball,
loftily soaring in
the space between children
yet
easily punctured by
the claws of vicious rapids.

[sinensys]

your ghost haunts me,
eyes glassy
expression sullen.

don't look at me
like that.

let me brush
my slanted teeth
and crooked tongue
without you standing there.

our lips are chapped
but i know neither
of us chews it --
we have stopped
fidgeting
finally
but neither of us
steps forward first,
each mutely and meekly
waiting
for the other to break
our unspoken
synchronization.

if only we could sync up
our ambition
instead of saving it for
others to infrequently
marvel at.

[sinensys]

for most people, my fear -- and, by extension, reasoning -- is this: if i let you in my head, you would destroy me. you would find the cracks i've hidden with dust and trivia, and you would reveal them. you would, wouldn't you? that, or you would break them up, dismantling those crooked pillars, or you would try and clog those misshapen passages with muck. it wouldn't matter if you were a benevolent fiend or a malicious god -- my charred remains would continue to fester.

or so i had thought, until i thought about the few who see with a mind like mine. now i think that, if i let you in my head, i might find myself filling my heart with you -- or worse, i might try to become you.

i haven't met you yet, but i am afraid of what you might do to me, of what i might do to myself in your presence.

[sinensys]

"what drives you?"

it pokes and prods at the inside of my skull, its small hands leaving thrumming marks at my temples and digging its nails into my parietal lobe, eyes blurring as the pinpricks near the occipital center. it ignores my walls, soaring over them loftily, and mocks my trenches, slinking in that murky chasm below. in that pit, it wrangles my stomach and vandalizes the ribcage with the familiar graffiti i'd seen before in my shaky hands.

i swat my hand over my left shoulder in irritation: "not now, dear, i have a math test in tent minutes," i tell it.

[sinensys]

ash and skull
red and white
snow and ice
chimes and lumber
a thick blade and hefty ax
the cabin and smoke
the breeze and a nest
a heron and flightlessness
the crane and the snake
patience and deceit
meek and cunning
the fractured skull
a mess to clean up

[sinensys]

to our beloved gods we pray
(but when will we finally become them?)

[sinensys]

kill
your gods and
replace them with
puppetry --
such is the way of the
usurper.
this you will know to be
the true path to
greatness.

and i, as a crowned god renewed,
will usurp that crookedly sluggish
thing
i had once fondly called
"burnout"
and become something
greater
than the shimmering figure
that staggers in my
daydreams