Moonlight

He stared at the moon.  Perhaps it held the answers he sought.  Answers to questions unasked, unspoken.  Decisions,  decisions.  It was always about decisions.  Today's decision dictates tomorrows. And so forth.  Until you found yourself miles from your desires stuck on a road of your own decisions.  They all started out as a choice.  Left instead of right.  Yes instead of no.  Staying around inside of walking away. 
His path was his to walk,  dictated by no one.  This is what he thought when he had been younger.  The age gave him the experience to realize that nothing was so easy.  Her eyes were always upon him.  Watching.  Yes,  I know you follow,  that you're always watching.  That means nothing, except stalking. 
The moon remained silent.  Taunting him with the silence of knowing.  The moon knew it all.  Yet revealed nothing.
His dreams were the dreams of desires extinguished and buried.  The life he sought so desperately was merely a figment of a memory past.  The choices he had made assured he would never find happiness in the life he once craved. 
It was a bleak landscape he now found himself in.  No guide,  no map,  completely in uncharted waters sailing towards a destination unknown.  This wasn't the path he had prepared for.  This path was full of pitfalls and traps.  A tightrope to be walked delicately.  There was no opportunity for mistake.  A mistake now meant certain death.  A tightrope to be walked alone.  This path could only be walked alone. 
That was the message he received from the moon.  You can have all the support you wanted,  but in the end,  you have to walk the moon alone. 
Clearing his head of emotion,  closing his heart to everyone,  he secured his helmet and stepped out into the unknown,  unsure where anything lead.  If he had made his calculations right,  he would come out the other end a owner of the home he lived in, with a plan towards a future that is constantly changing.  Or dead.  But never defeated. 

My eyes focus on nothing,  slowly the sight blurs.  Nothing but a blur of colors.  It was better like this.  Not feeling,  not caring.  No heart. No hurt. 
He wanted to stay here,  lost in this moment,  feeling this pain.  This was where he belonged.  The real world didn't work for him.  He never fit in,  he didn't belong.  A relic of a time that no longer existed.  Born too late.
Just a moment longer.  Life was encroaching fast and there was no fighting it.  A life muted of color and alone.  A life he chose,  one he can't escape. 
Just a moment longer,  Alone cold.  Life has begun. 

Fly high

Fly high,  falcon of the night.
Fly away from your problems, 
Fly high,  out of sight. 
Fly as fast as you can go and leave your troubles behind. 
Fly to discover new sights, 
Fly to discover a different night. 
Fly,  and don't be scared, 
Life awaits you. 

It's no fun, chap 2

Chapter 2

Alice.
Holy fucking shit, he had done it now. Rabbit knew he was out of time. Frantically grabbing his meager belongings from the floor, Rabbit starting packing his ruck sack as quickly as possible.
Alice. Fuck. Everyone had heard of Alice. Not only was she the Queen's new paramour, but rumor had it she was the best hack this side of the continent. There was no way the Queen would go long without discovering Alice missing. He was dead. "I'm late," he muttered, "so fucking late."
Alice watched his rapid scamper about the room for a second, a slight bemused look on her face. Then she stood, retrieving her bra, and spoke. "Calm down, little man," she tried calming Rabbit down. "We have time, but not much. As I told you last night, when I hired you, that I had a hologram set up to fool my guards. But that won't fool the Queen."
Rabbit froze, "what she told him last night?" She hired him last night? He remembered none of this. Just how drunk had he really been? Looking at the beautiful Alice stand up, now clad in panties and bra, and reach for her clothes, Rabbit asked her just that question, somewhat involuntary.
Alice's replied, as she got dressed, "Apparently, a lot more than I thought. I hired you last night to get me out of Wonderland. You said you were the best smuggler in town, that no one would catch you. So I paid you to take me away from here. In cash, not credit. Check your bag, that's where you hid it."
Standing, Alice added, " But do it quick, we need to be going. I don't want to be running behind. I like my head on my shoulders. " Rabbit checked his bag, sure enough there was the sack full of coins. More than he would have expected. He must have charged her a ton, not believing her story. That sounded like him. "But why the sex, then?" Rabbit asked. He didn't usually mix business with pleasure.
Alice paused in closing her bag and smiled at him. "Because you have a penis and I love sex. And without the Queen, I can have whomever I want. Now, enough questions, we need to be going now. Where's your ship?"
"That's a good question," Rabbit thought. He honestly didn't know, and all this new information was starting to make his head hurt even more. Shouldering his bag, Rabbit led the way out of the room with Alice following behind. He might not know, but starting here wouldn't help him find it. Plus Alice was pretty insistent they leave right then.
Alice. Fucking Alice. What kind of shit had he gotten himself into now?

Opportunity

Every second of every day is a chance to change your life. All it takes is a simple decision. A "yes" instead of a "no". Simple decisions.
A dog that is beaten reaches a point where it trusts no one, because every person is associated with pain.
Simply walking away serves no purpose, I can never go far enough. I'm trapped in a hell of my own making. There is no other recourse for me then to stay my course. Even though my choices have been made for me. I've lost the control I had left. What I wanted didn't exist any way. This life isn't so bad. It doesn't really matter in the end.
I never promised life on a gold platter, and nothing can last forever. The dog doesn't hate people, just no longer wants anything from them. Life is a cruel mistress. You can have one thing, but not the other. Choices. I had none. People don't change, no matter how long you wait. But then, I turned down this path years ago. I blame no one but myself.
It's just as well, my masterpieces won't exist without pain to drive them. That's the secret of true works of art. The artist was driven by passion, pain, loneliness, and every other hurtful emotion. I am no different, expecting that I accept my fate. It's too hard fighting it any more.
You'll say you understand, you might even. But you never really will.

It's no fun, when Rabbit has a gun

Chapter one

Rabbit woke suddenly, disorientated. He opened his eyes, he was laying on his back. The ceiling above him was stained and spotted, the light in the room, dim. Rabbit was very thankful for this, because his head decided at that point to start pounding. "What a crazy night of drinking," he thought. But every night of drinking in Wonderland was that, crazy. You always lived every day as if it were your last here. Because it just might be.
Rabbit rolled to his side looking for a cigarette on the bedside table. It was littered with empty beer bottles, empty condom packets and empty cigarette packages. "How long had he been here?", Rabbit wondered. He was pretty sure only one night, but the evidence of that night were disturbing. Finally finding a cigarette and a pack of matches, Rabbit lit a cigarette, and took a long inhale of smoke. Exhaling, he tried to remember the night before. He was supposed to be doing something today, but what? All he could do was try not to focus on the drum band playing in his head, let alone think.
Laying there, smoking his cigarette, Rabbit felt the bed beside him move, and heard a soft feminine moan. He wasn't alone. "Well I guess that would explain all the condoms," Rabbit realized. Turning slowly, inhaling deeply, he looked at the woman beside him. She was laying on her stomach, her long blonde hair hanging to her shoulders. You could tell that she once took care of herself. Once. But not recently. The split ends of her hair spoke of mistreatment. The dirtiness of her hair and it's disheveled state spoke of drugs, alcohol, and sex. Her skin was smooth on her back. His eyes traveled down her back taking everything in. Down the curve of the back to the rise of her shapely buttocks. It was almost a perfect sight, almost. Except for the tattoo of a red heart on her back. The sign of the Queen. Property of the Queen, precisely.
"The fuck is going on?!" Rabbit muttered. Being caught with the property of the Queen was a quick way to get your head removed. The Queen was a fan of beheading people. An effective means of population control. Rabbit didn't want any part of that.
Pulling the last drag from his cigarette, Rabbit put it out in the ashtray. He looked again at the empty condom wrappers. Rabbit was pretty sure that the wrappers meant what he thought they meant. He was a walking dead man.
Standing, stretching, and scratching his balls, Rabbit moved through the trash on the floor to the bathroom. He still didn't remember trashing the hotel room this bad. A few minutes later, relieved, Rabbit came back into the room to gaze at the half naked woman laying in his bed. As if she felt his gaze, her eyes opened. She slowly took him in.
Rabbit wasn't much to look at any more. He was a bit on the small side, with long hair that was slicked back and solid white. Like it had been since Rabbit hit puberty. His skin was pale, but not the pale of an albino; no, his skin color was the color of someone who spent time indoors. He wasn't wearing much, having just woken up in boxers, but none of this seemed to bother the woman staring at the tip of his cock that was hanging out. He could see the  hunger in her eyes as she searched his crotch.
She sat up, her naked breasts sitting perkily on her chest. Her face was the most impressive part. She was breath takingly beautiful. The symmetrical features of her face would have made any artist weep. Rabbit found himself memorized. No wonder she lay in his bed. There was no way he ever pass up a chance at this, beheading or no beheading. Her full lips crooked slowly into a smile, as if she could read his mind. Which she probably didn't need to do, as Rabbit was sure his face was telling her everything. Or maybe it was the sight of his cock rising to full strength.
All of which dissipated when she spoke. "Yes, my dear, I would love to enjoy you again. But we must be going. We don't have much time." And with the sound of a ton of bricks falling, reality once again set in for Rabbit. How long did he really have before the Queen realized her plaything was missing, and started the search? He was already dead, but the longer he stayed here staring, the less of a head start he had. Literally.
Before Rabbit could open his mouth to agree, she added, "My name is Alice." Rabbit's mouth fell open. What kind of shit had he gotten himself into this time?