Eternity on Paper [COMPLETE]

Close Only Counts in Horseshoes and Hand Grenades

Twin victims, eggs laid in a nest unbalanced upon a crooked tree. The veins beneath the earth warn of a tale as old as time. Beware of the pendulum swing of the heart's sickle. The cuts don't heal and the blood that spills is corrosive.

The pursuit of happiness is a privilege for the naïve and good hearted. Their eyes don't see the waterfall drop, and every berry that falls into their lap tastes sweet. Never mind the poison that trickles from the tongue, and ignore the hole in the boat. Sunshine in a needle is the solution to a problem predestined—so they say.

Disappearance is a bittersweet pill best swallowed by the albatross for the enjoyment of the studio audience. Warnings ignored and distance maintained, silence is the gift sent in return for callous indifference. No ransom note or calling card, only the most loving vanishing act.

The doe wears a blindfold and carries a bat. May she strike gold in the cavern of dynamite. Memories plague, but care has waned. Time will erode the importance alongside the flesh and bone—if it was ever truly important at all.

One will blossom, the other will wilt. One will thrive, the other will fall. The scales must balance, and this is the way. Projection and false words comprise the body of a hypocrite.

In memory of, but not lovingly.