a {lost} generation :: dahlia;blitz

[Deleted]

mosquito, mosquito, buzzing around, landing on my knee
how can I truly be angry with you? all you want is to be part of me
now we are lying and counting the leaves underneath our tree
how can I truly be angry with you? all you want is to be part of me
you love like no human could, you love like no human should

I was never one for company. A life of self-induced solitude has made for a different paradigm that some would consider warped (the term enlightened has never crossed the minds of many, so lost in their vices that they could never understand the difference between true sin and preventative cleansing), but has also given way to a quiet sort of pang that I'm able to ignore but still manages to make itself known - I would never call it loneliness, that's too weak and so far beneath me, but I will not deny that the numbers and molecules float through my head and onto the paper a bit easier with a warm presence next to me on the sunken sofa and a single tendril of blonde spun between my fingers. The chemical equations for homemade chloroform aren't simple, but I finish them off with a flourish, tucking the paper safely away in my pocket and turning to the side to catch a single beam of sun penetrating the grimy window.

"It's nice outside," I hum absently, fingers never ceasing their occupation with the smooth lock of hair twined around them. Dahlia is a steadfast companion, loyal and reasonably intelligent save for an infatuation I could never return, but as a reward I give her a facsimile thereof that she is too blinded to know the difference. "I could use a break, got a new book I'd like to start on. Care to take a walk?"

poison, the poison I taste on your lips makes the apple red
wouldn't you love if i fell like snow white and slumbered in your bed?
you love like no human could, you love like no human should
are you poison, are you poisoning me?
how can i truly be mad when all that you want is to be part of me?

[/blockquote][/justify]

[L△LIA]

( D A H L I A E U R O P A W I D O W E R )

I know
It's true
(Please don't think I do)
Nothing that you say or do
Will make you love me

Your soul hums to the tune of his touch, something within your depths twisting in time with each tiny movement of his fingers coiling themselves within your hair. Each breath begins to feel like a sigh and you almost believe you are content or maybe even complete, but once his proposition escapes his lips you remember how much more the world could be. After all, isn't this the kind of moment that reminds you how you are always searching for just a little more from him? Today will be a triumph for you and your mother would be proud of the way his words sound nothing like your gone away father, making you seem a little less like her daughter (you are not waiting to be widowed today). "Yes —" Although your joy surges fast and shameless through your veins, your smile spreads lazily as you nod, palm pressed against your mouth to stifle it, as if he might not know it were there if you didn't show him. "Lead the way!" And the unspoken truth of the matter hangs in the air where the end of your words should be, but truly isn't: Lead and I will follow.

My weakness
Please forgive it
At least I hold on when I get love
And I let go when I give it
Give it, give it

[Deleted]

mosquito, mosquito, buzzing around, landing on my knee
how can I truly be angry with you? all you want is to be part of me
now we are lying and counting the leaves underneath our tree
how can I truly be angry with you? all you want is to be part of me
you love like no human could, you love like no human should

She bends and conforms so easily, a puppet that doesn't even require strings, held up by to force of a million things I can't and don't want to fathom. To love is to be destroyed; I have seen the proof as a result of my own doing, and some part of me might feel remorse at ruining Dahlia if any humanity I ever possessed weren't carefully pressed into planes of glass far away from ever being able to reach me and deviate me from my course. As it stands now, she won't be truly wrecked for as long as I remain by her side, an emotional crutch impassive enough to hold her up against the sea of broken hearts that always seems to swirl around my feet. For now, it's in my best interest to keep her functional, a useful tool should I need it. There's no sense in destroying her yet, but it's an inevitable occurrence. I was born to annihilate everything I touch, a god of discord and vengeance, and she is no exception. But for now, I can come as close as I ever will to affection, twining my fingers into a complex braid with hers and tugging her gently across the creaking floorboards, grabbing the new Hemingway volume from the coffee table before opening the door and stepping into the sun. Creatures of darkness may shun the light, but every once and a while there is a part of me that cries plaintively for the warmth of a summer I'll never know.

"I figured it out," I note absently, steering our course out over the uncut grass of the back yard and up a small hill at the end of the street. "It's calcium hypocholrite and acetone, equal parts. Pool cleaner and nail polish remover, Dahlia. I don't have to go out hunting for plants anymore, not when I can whip up the same thing with the contents of my bathroom cabinet. It's a breakthrough."

The tree is old, hunched against a lifetime of storms but offering a large pool of shade beneath a weeping-willow curtain of verdant leaves. I pointedly ignore the tire swing creaking feebly in the breeze, a reminder of things lost and never to be recovered, opting instead to fold myself into a seated position at the base of the trunk, eye flicking back towards the familiar form of blonde curls. She really has been exceptionally decent lately, not quite at her usual level of clinginess and always around to listen. Let it not be said that I don't reward good service. Stretching out beneath the filtered sunlight, I shift into a position that would accommodate her, holding the book aloft for reference. "C'mere and lay down, I'll read to you."

poison, the poison I taste on your lips makes the apple red
wouldn't you love if i fell like snow white and slumbered in your bed?
you love like no human could, you love like no human should
are you poison, are you poisoning me?
how can i truly be mad when all that you want is to be part of me?

[/blockquote][/justify]

[L△LIA]

( D A H L I A E U R O P A W I D O W E R )

Light reflects from your shadow
It is more than I thought could exist
You move through the room like breathing was easy
If someone believed me they would be as in love with you as I am
They would be in love, love, love

It is nothing unusual to note that your hand holds his more tightly than he reciprocates, as he tugs you out the door and into the day's breeze and lightness. The weather fills whatever space within you that hasn't been occupied by thoughts of Kaelen and these are conveniently the places where the most honest truths of him might flare into recognition if you weren't so carefully maintaining their absence. Homes for these thoughts have been given away to others (like the way the edges of the world seem to fall away into oblivion in moments like these), who do not belong, but that you have declared wanted. It would be less of a lie to name them necessary. As he brags of his breakthrough, you grin widely and flick your eyes up to him, feeling as if that breakthrough is for the both of you and that it might even be a little bigger than he realizes. "A breakthrough —" Your voice echos back to him, pausing to process his words before continuing with your own. "Answers wait for you, Kae."

With the sun bubbling up within you, you swing your clasped hands high and take a skip across the grass, as if to illustrate how easy it is to jump from somewhere you were to everywhere you're going. It only takes a moment for his stride to catch up to you; you never move so far as to be unreachable. "There is nothing that would ever stay so far away as to do otherwise." As he leads the way beneath the tree, his physical hold on you breaks as he claims a place upon the earth and, for your part, you are not worried. Invisible threads are strung between the two of you, choreographing your movements together despite any measure of distance, and you feel the pull of the future acutely. When he beckons you to him, he is merely acknowledging the fate that you already know. With a spin and a rush of laughter, you send your body into a whirl, curls soaring into a wild halo around you, before kicking your own feet out from under you and trust-falling into his lap.

And with words unspoken
A silent devotion
I know you know what I mean
And the end is unknown, but I think I'm ready
As long as you're with me

[Deleted]

mosquito, mosquito, buzzing around, landing on my knee
how can I truly be angry with you? all you want is to be part of me
now we are lying and counting the leaves underneath our tree
how can I truly be angry with you? all you want is to be part of me
you love like no human could, you love like no human should

She has a kind of happiness within her that I can't fathom, and a measure of sadness that lurks beneath the surface (I don't choose stupid people and not even love can be enough to blind her to the Truth entirely), quiet and unassuming but always present. Dahlia is the epitome of a sounding board, repeating my ideals and triumphs without ever being prompted. It's easy with her, easier than it is with Kiera and Aurora despite the family ties that should make them trust me. Some would call it brainwashing, but those are the same people who have never understood what it means to be enlightened. I'm doing them a favor, all of them, taking them under my guidance so that when the hand of judgement hovers over them they will be pristine and well-versed in the true meaning of righteousness. Dahlia settles into me with a certain puzzle-piece precision I can't deny but can always ignore, wheatblonde strands finding their way between my fingers again, prayer beads for a deity who prays to no one but himself.

"You're going to be a goddess one day." A false promise that I've uttered a thousand times, albeit without (much) malicious intent. It serves a purpose, as consoling and gentling as the steadfast shift of slender digits through spun-gold threads. She is mine although not in the sense she wants to be, an interesting thing to play with but never the sole holder of a heart I've never allowed myself to have. She can pretend, though, as so many people do, and I will not begrudge her that. After all, is a willing slave a slave at all? Rather than examine my own philosophy, I flip the crisp cover open to the first page, preferring to get lost in the story of someone else's humanity to facing the prospect of my own. "The Sun Also Rises, by Ernest Hemingway. Chapter one..."

poison, the poison I taste on your lips makes the apple red
wouldn't you love if i fell like snow white and slumbered in your bed?
you love like no human could, you love like no human should
are you poison, are you poisoning me?
how can i truly be mad when all that you want is to be part of me?

[/blockquote][/justify]

[L△LIA]

( D A H L I A E U R O P A W I D O W E R )

Strange attractor
The light in your eyes
It's pulling me in, yeah, it's pulling me in
A heart that's still speeding up
And it's coming again, yeah, it's coming again

"One day." Such simple words echo back so easily, laced with all the sweetness your lungs have to offer. This breath is your day's most quiet need. Within it is more than the repetition of the past or its shallow promises, but a striving for things to come, for the inevitable. There is also something of the hidden present (and it would be to Kaelen Dempsey's dismay, which is perhaps a truer reason for its borderline repression than the more fanciful ideas dancing across the predetermined pathways of your overly idealized future), for you are not daydreaming of being a goddess so much as you are hoping for the continued presence of a god. Rarely in his presence are any of your words for you. Rather, it is effortless to surrender your voice to him, to give in to undeniable impulses and allow him the kind of control over your vocal chords which you so often resist in the presence of others (despite the infrequency of your success).

Only, there is also no denying the smallest twist of deceit within your current sentiment: One day. You hold no intentions for you own divinity, yet you allow him to believe these words affect you as he envisions, because it seems sinful to disappoint him by making your single-mindedness too obvious. Complexity is a sometimes-synonym for keeping between the two of you. One day I will be more than I am and it is but a war of our imaginations that will interpret that victory, to whomever it may fall. Reaching up, your fingers lazily trace the title etched across the book's cover in time with his voice, your lips silently relaying the words back to him — a beat behind in the scheme of time, but a world ahead in the greatness of feeling.

How did it happen?
How did it come to this?
Taking me over
Something's happening and it's like coming up for air
Breathe it in again

[Deleted]

mosquito, mosquito, buzzing around, landing on my knee
how can I truly be angry with you? all you want is to be part of me
now we are lying and counting the leaves underneath our tree
how can I truly be angry with you? all you want is to be part of me
you love like no human could, you love like no human should

I have never known peace. For whatever reason - an unstable childhood, an unstable elevated mind or simply a twist of fate - there has always been a crystalline wall on the dividing line between the substance of my soul and the proverbial greener pastures of contentment. Once upon a time, longer ago than I can remember, I think I must have been human. No one is born great; they either achieve greatness for themselves or have it thrust upon them, and at some point in my childhood I must have realized that I would never extend beyond the iron grasp of generational poverty and ignorance unless I locked away the parts of myself that caused it. I threw everything besides stone-solid logic and a wrath colder than ice into my reflection and sepulchered it there, forever doomed my humanity to sit and watch from the confines of a mirror as I grew and thrived without it, and over time it shrank beneath my level of notice into a mere echo, a flicker behind mirror-me's eyes that always leaves as quickly as it came. And maybe, just maybe the echo in my lap speaks to the echo in my soul, quiet whispers that have no effect in the long run but still allow me to experience a tiny spark of warmth. I don't feel for her, but I also don't feel against her, and that mean something in a world I loathe more with each passing day. As an immaculately carved idol of ice, apathy is the closest I will ever come to love. I finish the chapter and Dahlia follows silently a half-second behind, forever that small comfort that she would follow me anywhere, even to her own destruction. Despite my aversion to ruining her just yet, I know that watching her shatter will be nothing less than exquisite (pretty things are always the most fun to break).

"I've been thinking," I mutter, the singular pad of a spindly finger absently tracing the silent echo-mantra blooming from her lips. "You stayed even after you found out about what I do. You understood. That makes you so much wiser than most people."

I'm a master of shameless flattery, manipulating heartstrings to get what I want from others, and Dahlia is nothing short of my masterpiece, a painted doll that talks and walks and loves with nothing more than my whims to guide her. "And there's so much work to be done. I could teach you, if you'd like. You could help."

Accomplice has a much more savory tone to it than lover, something more stable and a little less frightening obscure.

poison, the poison I taste on your lips makes the apple red
wouldn't you love if i fell like snow white and slumbered in your bed?
you love like no human could, you love like no human should
are you poison, are you poisoning me?
how can i truly be mad when all that you want is to be part of me?

[/blockquote][/justify]

[L△LIA]

( D A H L I A E U R O P A W I D O W E R )

Love will save your soul
Of feeling so alone and growing old
Lost my train of thought and now I'm told
That love will save your soul
Of feeling so alone and growing old

Sunlight flickers down through the pages to dapple your face with an otherworldly pattern of sharp edges and swooping shadows. There is a particular scent to the book's paper that will linger in your memory far longer than this boy will be present in your life, but these are not things you would want to believe even if you knew them yet. Aged paper — with the way it smells like fingerprints and sugared dust — will forever remind you of Kaelen Dempsey. On lonely days you might find yourself leaning face-first into a bookshelf, nose pressed to the spines as you search for a reminder of this very day.

"I rather liked him," you find yourself repeating the final line of the chapter as the tip of his finger traces the rise and fall of your lips, "a-and evidently she led him quite a life." Oddly enough, it is your stutter that summons a blush to your cheeks, not the way your heart stutters at the contact. Your easy fluttering bears no shame, but your tripwire tongue is often unworthy of him and you fear it's follies. He seems not to notice your small slip of imperfectioned silence in regards to the great god Hemingway or, more probably, disregards it. For, despite his stunted reciprocation of your own affections, very little seems to pass his notice.

Still, his praise for your own dedication to him or at least your lack of leaving and rejection of the idea that any action of his own could possibly be flawed, catches you off-guard. Although, perhaps it is more the perpetual shock of simply being allowed in his presence. "You could help —" The idea of this sends a curious hand of your own up to his mouth, as if your fingertips might find the truth or fiction of sincerity upon his lips, just the same as he found the pledge of persistence upon yours. "— help?" Your hand stills and for a prolonged procession of eager seconds you are tangled up in stillness, cradling his jaw in a soft constellation of touch, wondering if you will leave fingerprints upon his skin in the wake of this moment. Perhaps they will flare like new suns upon his jaw instead of burning out like stars stayed too long. "Always." There is a hum of contentment in the back of your throat as your eyes drift closed and you focus in on fiery warmth of your fingers. "She led him quite a life —" You summon the words back once more, only with a full breath of sound. "— and perhaps I might too."

Love will always save your soul
Of feeling so alone and growing old
Love, love, love
Love will always save your soul
Love will save your soul

[Deleted]

mosquito, mosquito, buzzing around, landing on my knee
how can I truly be angry with you? all you want is to be part of me
now we are lying and counting the leaves underneath our tree
how can I truly be angry with you? all you want is to be part of me
you love like no human could, you love like no human should

"Perhaps," I nod, an unintentional imitation of her habit of constant repetition, hand coming up to cover hers, pressing the combined weight against my jawline briefly before prying it gently away. While I know how people work in a way they rarely know themselves, I can't quite figure out what to make of prolonged exposure to affection. I can never honestly give Dahlia what she wants (what she believes wholeheartedly she has), but despite the fact that I will never hold her in the esteem she thinks I do, I would admit that I've grown to have somewhat of a soft spot for her, an occasional willingness to play the game a little more convincingly and string her along a bit more. I might consider it mercy if I didn't find such a pointed satisfaction in watching her follow without the slightest hints of hesitation or doubt. My hand wraps itself up in hers, and I manage to summon an almost-smile that sits only somewhat stilted in place of my usual deadpan. "Perhaps you might."

While I always handle every other aspect of my life in stark shades of black and white, I never deal in absolutes with her. Everything is always maybe or we'll see simply because that's the way to keep her here even if she weren't held down by an anchor of devotion so strangely solid that I can almost feel it sometimes even though I know my only loyalty lies with my ideals. She isn't necessary, never will be, but there's a sort of pleasantness that comes from the adoring companionship that I might even miss if she were to disappear. Dahlia is much like her namesake, a flower that is bright and pleasant but still transient, that will wilt and fade to nothing in the absence of the sun it so craves. Our relationship is more parasitic than symbiotic, but it remains tolerable for the time being, and I will not begrudge her the right to her fantasy world.

"You're learning, Dahlia. You've got great things coming for you." Pretty lies wrapped up in make-believe satin; she only has coming for her what I can act and what she can fantasize, but that will be good enough for her (it always is). Perhaps I do hold an inkling of affection for her, though, a certain fondness that doesn't quite pass the border of attachment in the soft motion of my free hand combing windswept strands of gold back into their rightful place. Maybe one day she could be a goddess if she wanted, never quite on the same level as myself but a bit closer in the terms of divinity. "And you've made the work so much easier. I'm glad to have you, sweetheart."

Terms of endearment are a rare as a blue moon, something I have to work harder to make them sound real and a form of language I've never been good with. But for a few moments, I can let her be an exception to the rule, the mirror-portals of her eyes reflecting back at me what we might have been in a different plane of existence.

poison, the poison I taste on your lips makes the apple red
wouldn't you love if i fell like snow white and slumbered in your bed?
you love like no human could, you love like no human should
are you poison, are you poisoning me?
how can i truly be mad when all that you want is to be part of me?

[/color][/size][/blockquote][/justify]

[L△LIA]

( D A H L I A E U R O P A W I D O W E R )

Love we need it now
Let's hope for some
Because
Oh
We're bleeding out

It's the forward momentum that keeps you going, no matter how small. When his own hand pushes your touch further into him, you are reminded of all the reasons you continuously walk toward Kaelen and dismiss anything that might whisper for you to turn away. If only you could sink into him for more than this kind of simple, fleeting instant, but perhaps you daydream too much of things too difficult. The idea of impossible will never stop you though, not when there are still such precious fragments of hope scattered within reaching distance. Despite the clarity of his judgment upon the rest of the world, he is softer with you, words spread wide with enough in-between spaces as to give a girl like you room to wander.

Certainly, there are a great many pathways you might take if given the opportunity in this mind-space of possibilities, but the openness is also nearly overwhelming in times like these. You know where you would like to go, but have no compass of either true north words or emotions to lead you there. It is only the rare slip of ideas like sweetheart that guide you into the vast expanse of this beautiful unknown. "Sweetheart —" Expression caught in the shock of unformed responses, the only honest reflection of your tumbled-tossed heartbeat is in your eyes, at least until you pull yourself up to kneel in the grass beside him. There, knees to the earth and the hem of your sundress marked haphazard with stains of fresh green, you lean in whirlwind fast to kiss him steadfast slow. You do not wait for hesitant permission, impulsively deciding to push at boundaries you cannot name, but perpetually sense.

It is only the awful knowledge that he will seek to evade if you do not preemptively surrender, that causes you to pull away far too soon for your liking (although not before delivering your affection with a little more insistence than the last time you found yourself in this position), scooping up his Hemingway novel and rolling away into the unoccupied space beside him. "You are all a lost generation." With nonchalance, you flick through the pages, a kind of balancing act where you attempt to hold both the upper and lower hand at once — invading his personal space before withdrawing so far in response as to restore it two fold — for it seems there will always be this particular something within you that he cannot conquer, no matter how willing you are to be defeated.

I belong with you
You belong with me
You're my sweetheart
I belong with you and you belong with me
You're my sweet

[Deleted]

mosquito, mosquito, buzzing around, landing on my knee
how can I truly be angry with you? all you want is to be part of me
now we are lying and counting the leaves underneath our tree
how can I truly be angry with you? all you want is to be part of me
you love like no human could, you love like no human should

This is why out of all prospects, I chose her (not that I could ever be limited or tied to one person, attachment is something I will never know but physicality is a world in which I'm much more well-versed). Dahlia is a mirror in and of herself, always reflecting back the world a beat behind and holding the echo of life somewhere beneath her skin. There are times where I think she might be that same pane of polished glass that I locked myself inside forever ago, at one with my ideals but far more human than I could ever bring myself to be, although I muse that she embodies the better facets of a doomed race rather than the countless shortcomings.

She was such a delicate, pure thing when I found her - unsullied and spun-glass fragile, like the first frost of winter perched precariously over the grass, and while I like to think that I have stained her canvas dark in all the right ways she still maintains that feather-light veil of innocence that clouds her vision to what a terrible place the world can truly be. In my position, naivete is a shortcoming, but it makes her something to be protected, to be sheltered and cultivated until the moment comes to shatter it in a shower of exquisite ruination. She tastes like springtime, like the air after rain, something so inherently pure in her whispering that when the day finally comes to break her like all the others, it might be a bit more difficult than it was in the past.

"One generation passeth away, and another generation cometh; but the earth abideth forever… The sun also ariseth, and the sun goeth down, and hasteth to the place where he arose," I reply in turn, arms slipping around her waist in a spindly circle as I peer over her shoulder to the pristine pages. "You are a rare find, Dahlia Widower."

I know better than to think she misses the faint whisper of mine that winds its way into the waves of her hair, but she will understand it differently than I do. While mine is something for her to bask in and relish it is steadfast reassurance for me, that toys are thrown out every day with the name of their owner still scrawled into the surface, forever claimed even after they have stopped being wanted.

poison, the poison I taste on your lips makes the apple red
wouldn't you love if i fell like snow white and slumbered in your bed?
you love like no human could, you love like no human should
are you poison, are you poisoning me?
how can i truly be mad when all that you want is to be part of me?

[/blockquote][/justify]