Write an IOU
I’ll do it later.
Stare down the page,
the screen,
glare at a wall,
Nope, still nothing.

How do I think of the words?
How do I explain myself?
Switch languages?
Use complex analogies?
Simple analogies?
Use three words?
Nope, not enough.

Write a sonnet?
Write a ballad?
Write an enormous tome?
Draw a picture?
Conquer planets and solar systems and galaxies
and name them for you?
Damn it.
I don’t even deserve
someone as amazing as you.
You’re amazing, you’re awesome, You’re fucking magnificent!
Why the hell are you still with someone like me?

I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you!
And that isn’t sufficient!
You brighten my spirit, if not my day.
You inspire me to write what I don’t have words for.
You invest more time in me than anyone who isn’t my mother.
And for that matter, you remember my name.
These are only a few of the things you do for me,
I wish I could do so much for you,
but all I can do is write you this shitty poetry.

I love you.
And I hope that even after all the crap that I encompass,
That you love me.

When you have suffered the stifling and overpowering emotion of incredible loss for an extended period of time, you begin to become rather good at faking enjoyment. You can put it on and take it off just like any garment and lie through your teeth to the people around you but like a virus, it’s in your blood, ever present, inescapable. No matter how much you try to relinquish yourself from it, it envelopes you again. Rather like pulling out small tufts of hair and having it grow back instantaneously.

Deep in this ocean of doomed thoughts, immoral regrets and miserable feelings there is that profound and slow throb of life, of reality, far, far in the distance.
With this fresh failure, She was reminded of the “Twisted Dissatisfaction” she once had… “At least there were no nightmares then.” Angylia whispered.

“May I help you Kaiden?”

“Oh, I just thought I would drop in, and say hello.” Was his devious reply. The slow throb became the enveloping reality now, instead of the pain, as she turned to focus on Kaiden and what was really happening.

“Bullshit. You don’t like me. Can’t exactly say I’m over fond of you. Haven’t had to deal with your ass for well over a year now either. You’ve got an aim to this meeting, one that, of course, behooves you and only you.”

“Ahh, now. So venomous. Can you blame a man for enjoying a small case of Schadenfreude on occasion?” He came to sit next to her, that jeering grin decorating his face like he was some type of jack-o-lantern. He became serious. “But see here, I’ve come with the understanding that you have been having a little trouble with your dreams again.” A slight pause with a hint of a smile again, “Don’t we all?”

“And other then your case of schadenfreude what are my dreams and nightmares to you Kaiden? Wait – that’s not even the question I should be asking – Since when do you know anything about my life and or where did you hear that anyway?”

“Who hasn’t, my little dove?” He sighed, quite dramatically, or so angylia thought at least and continued, “However I do have a small concern with what you may have been dreaming recently if you would be so kind.”

Kaidens aim became clear to her then, not with the shocking alacrity one might expect upon discovering, well, practically anything that should have been rather obvious. But rather the leisurely slither of say that book you put on a ledge, just to have it titter slowly off the edge and ‘SLAM!’ to a halt. Angylia let the thought sink for a moment.

“I must have information concerning Iris, of course. What other reason do you have to be here other than to protect your precious disciple?” Kaiden gave a small smile, and a moment of silence passed.

“What’s in it for me then? Give me one good reason as to why I should help either of you. Brother to Azreal you may be, but you had might as well be a stranger for all that it matters. For as long as Az is connected to Isabelle why should I have any reason to want to help you or that bitch apostle of yours?” His eyes flashed and he gave his most wicked grim yet.

“Because I can help you be rid of that blasted connection of a demon between you and John.”

[ Schadenfreude - German. To take enjoyment out of others pain.]

In a building filled with people,
I am all alone.
The people I know don’t see me,
The people I don’t just stare.
None of them will talk to me,
But I suppose that I don’t care.

When I was composing this before English Literature, my classmate turned to me and asked me a question. Poem killer.

He was in one of the drawing rooms of Weldin College. With all of it’s stuffy, old fashioned furniture and inviting fire. He knew this drawing room more than he wanted to. He gripped the arms of his chair and announced loudly, “This isn’t real.”

“What’s not real?” Joseph was sitting in the chair next to his, smiling and sipping coffee.

Corrin refused to look at him, “You’re not real.”

“Of course I’m real. I’m right here aren’t I?”

“No, you aren’t. I’m not here either.”

Jospeh’s eyebrows rose, “Oh? Then where are we?”

Corrin picked a point on the wall above the fireplace and stared at it devotedly, “You are six feet under in Weldin. I am more than six feet under where I can’t hurt anyone anymore.”

“You don’t mean to tell me you’re still stuck on that Corry?”

Corrin flinched, but refused to look at Elizabeth sitting on the couch next to Ozias like she always had and the other man in the room, lounging next to the window, “None of you are real either.”

Elizabeth pouted, “Of course we are! You’ve seen and touched all of us, some more than others. You have some scars from me to prove it don’t you? Don’t you remember how-”

“You aren’t real.” Corrin snapped, wanting to rip his own hair out.

“If we aren’t real what is?” The man by the window asked, watching him carefully.

Corrin’s line of sight wavered and he swallowed, “I don’t… I don’t know your name.”

“No, I don’t imagine you did. That bothers you doesn’t it? Not knowing the name of one of the people you-”

“Shut up!” Corrin jumped up from his chair and turned to the others in the room, “This isn’t real, none of you are real!”

Joseph’s smile broadened, “But the witch is, isn’t she? Are you going to tell her about us?”

Elizabeth squealed, clapping her hands in delight “Oh, do tell her Corry, tell her!”

Ozias nodded, “It’s only fair.”

The man grinned, “You don’t want it to happen to her, right?”

“Shut up, shut up, SHUT UP!” Corrin buried his head in his hands, “You’re not real, you’re not real, YOU’RE NOT REAL!”

The brusing pain in his wrist told him he was no longer on the bed and Corrin opened his eyes to cold cement and Rie blinking at him from across the room, half asleep and barely comprehending him. Wordlessly, he pulled himself back onto his bed and rubbed his wrist where the restraining cuff had hurt him when he fell.

“Corrin?”

“Nightmare.” He stated mechanically, not wanted to let her know that he really wanted to scream and cry and puke all at the same time, “Go back to sleep.”

There was a gentle tug on her hair and Rie swatted at the hands playing with her hair. Ignoring her, Corrin began to seperate her hair into groups.

Rie reached back to swat him again, only to be swatted in return for her efforts. As she was about to turn around and snap at him for pulling her hair she realized what he was doing- trying to do. The very idea that Corrin was braiding her hair almost made her laugh, but considering he was at the low point of his eternal emotional rollercoaster, Rie bit her tongue and let him do what he wanted.

When he had finished, he mumbled something profane that she didn’t quite catch and ran his fingers through her hair, destroying his handiwork. He did this several times as Rie attempted to focus on the book in front of her. After about the fifth time, he hummed and left the braid alone. Then he began running his fingers up and down her spine, making her shudder violently.

Turning to ask him to stop, her words stuck in her throat as he kissed her cheek. Wordlessly, he wandered away, leaving her to stare after him in shock.

Kate knitted furiously, glancing at the clock for the millionth time. What was taking Amanda so long? It was only a driving test and they’d been gone for an hour already…

Just then, Amanda stumbled through the front door of the Lodi DMV and got in line, looking like she’d been to hell and back.

Kate jumped up, never missing a stitch as she practically ran across the building, dodging stray childen, elderly women and hopeful teenagers, “Amanda, what happened?!”

“Do you want the long version or the short version?”

Kate glanced at the line ahead of them, “I think we have time for the long version.”

“Well, it started out fine, but somehow Naiowa managed to claw her way into the car and demanded I take her to CRC-”

“What did she want with CRC?”

“I haven’t the slightest. Anyways, then the guy who was testing me, I think his name was Eugene, he started fighting with her, trying to get her out of the car-”

“Did it work?”

“I’m getting to that. So Eugene somehow managed to get her out the window, but then she just climbed on the roof and kept screaming at me.”

Kate nodded, “That would be very distracting.”

“It got worse.” Amanda sighed, “Next thing I knew, the circus truck that was going through one of the intersections crashed and all the monkeys got out, and those were some pissed off monkeys.”

“Uh-huh…”

“So I’m swerving to dodge all these monkeys, Naiowa is screaming at me when someone bloody defenestrates themselves from one of the buildings I’m passing, and they land on top of the car and Naiowa. So they fall off the car while they fight eachother to stay on the car.”

“I get the feeling you have bad luck.”

“Then Mr. 602 jaywalked in front of me…”

Kate stopped knitting, “Really?”

“He even forwent the jeans.”

“Amanda, have I ever told you I hate you?”

“You didn’t miss much.” Amanda smiled, “Julia will be so disappointed.”

“So is that what happened?”

She shook her head, “Not all of it.”

“What else could have possibly happened?”

“An anti-Twilight mob, a What If book burning, a group singing the Gamer’s anthem and I could swear that I saw a guy that looked just like Acheron…”

“Well, did you pass?”

Amanda nodded solemnly, “Eugene never made it back though.”

“What? Why?”

Wordlessly, she turned and pointed as Mr. 602 walked through the door, Naiowa perched on his shoulder smugly.

“You’re right. She’ll be so disappointed.”

Cupcake walked through the city gates, a large grin spreading over his face. This place, yes, THIS city would be the site of his newest mission. His mission that would spread over the planet like a slug; transportation sucked these days.

Spotting the light dying from a nearby house, he dashed towards it, eyeing the cat sitting in the chair next to the door suspiciously, “Kitty-moo, the hell are you doing here?!”

Kitty-moo scowled at him in response.

“Screw you, at least I’m doing something with my life.”

The cat eyed him doubtfully as he picked the lock on the door.

“What do you care? You can eat all their food now.” Cupcake glared at the cat, before disappearing through the doorway. Kitty-moo turned his nose up at the door left cracked open for him and settled down to take a nap.

Meanwhile, Cupcake stood over an unsuspecting citizen, grinning maniacally. Pulling a cloth bundle from his pocket, he quickly unwrapped the Ring of Disrobing, careful not to accidentally put it on.

Congradulations, you are victim number one…

Quickly slipping the ring on and off the poor civilians finger, he dashed back out of the house, it was going to be a long night.

The next morning

Shrieks filled the air as the city began to wake, residents searching frantically for their clothing that had disappeared into thin air…

Corrin twisted on the knob and let hot water pour over him from a shower head that had only given him cold for the past two years. Before he heard noises and went outside to find witches arguing in the darkness of his unglorified foyer. Before the witch hunter tricked them into following her and he was overcome with the need to save the terrified girl who didn’t follow the red headed liar.

That was the first night he’d used the chains on the walls. It was also the longest he’d been in that close of proximity with one person for longer than a few minutes in a very long time. And with it, the unreasonable fear of her leaving. Of course she would leave. She had to leave.

She almost did. And he’d stopped her.

“For her own good.” he reasoned with himself. No self-respecting gentleman would let a lady walk straight into the hands of the enemy. He also wouldn’t leave her standing in the middle of a hallway of a labyrinthine building to which there was no map, “Also for her own good.”

Corrin frowned, the fact suddenly dawning on him that he was standing in one of the shower stalls. He looked down and sighed. Of course he’d still be fully dressed while in the shower. It didn’t even matter that they were the clothes he’d worn yesterday, what the hell had he been thinking?

He turned the water off and placed his palms against the wall, resisting the urge to slam his head against the wall repeatedly and trying to focus instead on the tiles in front of him. When the feeling passed, he left the shower stall, his boots squelching as he trailed water behind him.

He would have to avoid Irie No-last-name for a while. Eventually he wouldn’t be able to get away with changing the subject. Maybe she would leave before then. For some reason, the thought was depressing. He shouldn’t miss someone he’d just met.

He’d let her stay for a little while. He could hide her while she found her element thing and then he’d send her on her to way to build a resistance army, himself not included, “For her own good.”

Why bother growing flowers
that wont grow anyways?
Why bother washing the top soil away
day by day?

Why bother hoping they’ll grow,
in an ill-thought out place?
Why bother having hope,
that I can give something life
when I only ever succeed at taking life away?

“I don’t believe if was the wisest decision to have spent your money buying new clothes.” Charlie stated, sorting emails.

“Who cares? I look great!” Becca struck a pose, wearing her new Alliance federation military pants and purple halter tank top thing, “And anyways, it’s not THAT hard to earn the money back.”

“If you insist.”

“I do.” Becca pulled something from her belt, “Here, eat this. The Death Dancer swords are better than these.”

“Why don’t you sell them for money?” Charlie drifted over, calculating how the ingestion of the twin swords would alter his ability to synthesize items.

“What do I need money for? The only thing I need to buy right now is more photon charges so I can heal myself in battle without the use of drugs.” She flashed a thumbs up, “Photon arts are so convenient!”

Becca handed the swords over to the tiny red floating machine for it to absorb, rambling on about which photon arts she liked the best when Charlie squealed excitedly, “Level up!”

Becca shrieked and dashed across the room, jumping into the perpetually full bathtub that she’d recently bought- although she had yet to figure out precisely why it was supposed to stay perpetually full and how it managed to stay perpetually warm while it was at it- and watched wide-eyed from her watery hiding place as Charlie began to glow brightly.

Then it stopped, and Charlie stared at her, “Becca, why are you taking a bath fully clothed?”

“Charlie, you…” She pointed at her partner machine accusingly in shock, “YOU TURNED BLUE!”