That would be excellent, though! I would appreciate it, if it's possible and not too incredibly troubling!

Well, I do. I just can't remember the email attached to my original name Wunderkind or the password and now I'm stuck with this new account, which is attached to my active email, which is the only reason I got an email from here, which means I've changed that much since last visiting... and that annoys me.

So I came here to complain.

I expect nothing will come of it. But lodging the complaint was satisfying enough.

paint to painter

you used your fingertips like paint brushes

dripping water onto the cracked, barren surfaces of my skin

I was still until you came with your fingertips

hardened and resolved carefully reserved under the surface of my skin

out of the harshest desert world you must’ve come

to not fear me, to not fear my dry terrain

and then touch me with your water dipped paintbrushes

I am like the flower both needing and fearing the rain

your paintbrush fingertips spread me out

you push my colors everywhere

carrying me out to new places and onto surfaces strange

you paint with me all manner of things fair

I do not need to be convinced of your artistry

I am not the one in the midst of cosmic doubt

I am only the dry paint you dripped with water

and with fingertips turned and spread me out

you are the river in the midst of the wastelands

carrying out the colors of the earthen debris

and painting them on other shores with shells from other shores

painting them with colors from outside and inside of me

~R.A. Fialkiewicz

I Think of Death Fondly

I am not a liar.

It is a freely flowing movement to others, but to me it is as difficult as climbing mountains.

Not like the quiet trails about the base, but like the climber, clinging to the very pinnacle by rope and stake, there I am amidst the tide of strangers.

I often feel as though I do not belong anywhere.

Stumbling on shores so distant from anywhere that is familiar, I am cast away on strange tides.

Not in the brave and intrepid traveler's footsteps, but as a terrified child who is cast out in the storm and now must find a way forward because there is no way home.

I am not as you are.

We are different in almost every way, the winds as they sweep across the earth speak to us in very alternate ways.

Not poorly, for we are all of us gifted, but I see not what you see there, and I speak languages you do not dare, and I cross borders that ought not be crossed, and I think of death fondly.

~R.A. Fialkiewicz

If the fact that I can't get a .gif to work once it's uploaded isn't proof enough then you aren't who you say you are.

As a disclaimer, at the time this was posted, I was drunk. If I post anything else or post inappropriately, I won't remember it. Remind me.