one, two, a thousand maple leaves. to reach the light, you need to ignore beauty.

but beauty is easy; too easy to get lost in, mired in, complacent in.
we all have our own maple tree. who, though, has reached the sun?

what’s at the foot of the stairs, wonders the feet at the head of it.

and the speckled liver red of their garments softened the sound of curiosity heading down.

let go, says the universe to me.

“help me,” i whisper back.

and on that breath of a plea, the universe dug deep into the soil with its silvery, spindly arms of rain and brought forth a fairy ring.

once, after the lollipop tree wandered from the forest; once, before it got lost in the cement wilderness; once, it had company.

a lollipop tree with an antenna in a deserted wasteland of cement, radioing for help.

There are no sharks, no corals, no algae in this deep blue sea. Most people remark about its colour and especially when it’s empty. Like today. There are some fluffy waves, but those people never heard them and will never surf them. You’ll never steal anything from it; there is no bounty this sea will provide.

 
I wonder if it is lonely, this beautiful piece of nothingness. I wonder if it is as lonely as it is empty. I wonder if its vastness realises that everyone at the beach is as vastly empty and lonely at some point, because feeling lonely is a condition of being.

 
And I know it does, because it cries.
 

the pale, dull thread wound its arms around the gold button and tightened its hold through the soft woven shirt, hoping the seams of their relationship would never unravel.

it whispered to the pretty button, shiny button: “don’t make me let you go.”

and the button clung on, far, far above the ground, eye glistening.

pale, cold, tired macaron rabbit. all you wanted was to sleep. I fooled you, made you a tissue bed, then stabbed you with my teeth. now you rest eternally in me. and I have become the pale, cold, tired one. ‪#murderedmacaron‪ #retribution