By V Riczker
Editors: Ellena Lu

There’s another world where we’re better than this. 

Prettier?

I’d say it if I knew.

Would you do it all again?

You ask too many questions.

You don’t answer enough.

Maybe I don’t want to.

It’s not like we have time for you to mull it over.

Maybe another day.

Tell me the story again.

It all started too fast.

Always seems that way on the other end.

You think you know better than me.

I think I’d like to try.

Quieter.

[…]

They started too soon. Too fast. Grew too strong in their own eyes. 

[…]

They began to write with half a mind.

[…]

It became something for the ears of another.

[…]

And static became sound.

[…]

And the music is beyond them.

[…]

Do you see it?

[…]

The sun on your face.

[…]

You think you’re more than them.

I think I feel like they do.

But you think you could be better.

I know I could be better.

There will never be another one.

Why not imagine one?

You don’t think it’s a waste of time?

I don’t think it’s anything.

A way to pass the time, then.

To look at the walls crumbling and know how to hear it.

You don’t sound like sense.

Neither do you.

I don’t try to.

You think I do?

You ask too many questions.

[…]

Something cosmic this way comes.

You’re doing it again.

You’d rather what?

I’d rather you sounded normal.

Is that really what you want?

[…]

The sky looks pretty.

Swollen.

Do you think it knows?

I asked you to stop.

I’m trying.

It smells like rain.

Won’t matter soon enough.

Who will clear the dams?

Ask the birds.

What happened to the peace?

Disappeared with the poetry.

It never happens like this. What makes you think this will be the last?

Hard to tell.

Orange and pink.

The clouds aren’t moving.

We’ve got more to worry about.

What do you have to worry about?

[…]

Ah.

[…]

Well.