Platitudinous Persephone

L'homme Au Mirroire Rouge

Dear Friend (from a little girl who once believed in you),
Is that you in there? I really couldn't tell anymore.
The dollhouse is locked away now, cobwebbed and dusty,
asleep in your memory but not mine.

Brother, brother, where have you gone?
Walking on pins and needles is needless in hindsight.
If only I could pick up your pieces, and put you back together, but no....
You've been shattered one too many times, and that 3000 count jigsaw is only half a skyline, 1500.
It's time to spread the ashes.

Dear Zero,
I'm counting the days until we'll see you again.
If we ever do.
Your war is a struggle, it always has been, and that's what we've shared.
It's time to come home.
Please?

I waited by the window today for you, dear Zero. I saw you, I did. But the rain was tumbling too hard, like one million flitting pennies paying penance for your absence. I couldn't reach you. I heard your voice, and knew those words, could sing that song at the top of my lungs, but that voice was no longer yours. The pitter-patter outside sounded like

(I don't belong here. She's running out again.) the end of the world. Le fin absolut.

Dear Loathing

We are the ones you've left in your wake.
Mourning, seething, sedated. Remember when we---

Danced?
Laughed?
Cried?

Or is it a long lost myth to you?

Where are you?
When was the last time you fell?
I always wanted a proper goodbye.
If it's dead, then bury it.

Dear Sickness

Here you sit withering.
The letters through the door have stopped.
The letters you hold close are faded and withering.
Your hair is matted, your eyes lacklustre,
Your bones and morality decayed.

Where are they now, your children of revolution?

Your heart---so destroyed that revolution means nothing other
than what's written in the dictionary beyond that library door.
The Doctor says that you were beautiful once, but the wreckage left you
nothing to salvage.

This is your bed.
The one that you made,
The one that you cried in,
The one that you laid (and lied) in,
The one that you'll die in if you carry on this way.

Can I tell you a secret?

I'm nothing like you.

Can I tell you a lie?

You've always been just like me.

The priest is here, but your redemption may just be lost.


Dear Brother,

I know that one day, when this ends for me, I can rest in peace (in pieces).
Dead and buried, what everything is, the be all and end all.
Meet me at the gates, won't you?

There we are,
at the end of the world,
pulling that old dollhouse out
from behind the skeletons in your closet,
And dusting it off,
and disappearing into inevitable stardust.....

Don't cry anymore.