Tuesday, January 19, 2021

Pillow of Darkness

 

I lay on a pillow of darkness
Pure black
Except for the tiny flecks of light
Moving in random patterns
I imagine intersecting lines
at 35-degree angles from each other.
they fade intermittently
and form other shapes
I cannot remember the shapes
I cannot describe them
 
xxx
 
I feel as if I disappear.
perhaps for a few moments
perhaps forever.
I become invisible
a thing that was
but is no more.
 
Xxx
 
I hate the graveyards
the long lines of tombstones
lawns overgrown with weeds
decaying presents for the dead,
weathered teddy bears and deflated balloons.
I hate the roses left to decompose in the sun,
To be later thrown in metal dumpsters
like forgotten dreams
unspoken conversations.
I hate all of it.
the sales people
the ground crew men in dirty pants
the people looking for solace amongst quiet bones.
 
xxx
 
i want freedom
water
waves
I want to slide into oblivion like the other nameless souls
come and now gone.
Will anyone find our music
our words
our small attempts at transformation?
 
xxx
 
I lay on a pillow of darkness
floating somewhere between ocean and desert
between hot and cold
between life and death
The desert now blooms with newfound moisture,
purple flowers and panting lizards,
mermaid clouds.
The oceans begin to sing,
singing of sun trees and orange fruit that drip with sugar,
forming puddles
lakes and creatures that would become myths
and great dreams and nightmares.
 
xxx
 
I will become nameless
i will descend into the chaos I came from.
Into the blood,
the dirt,
the blackness
the specks of light in strange patterns
the nothingness that somehow becomes something.
 
xxx
 
Out of the chaos I am whole
for a moment,
such a short moment.
I am a sentence,
a name,
two sentences and then another,
and then one year, and then another.
I emerge from rough ideas
and soft kisses
from pain and chaos
from dirt and blood
from stories that were lost by people I never met
from stories that may be told long after I’m gone
I am all the people that are now lost,
forgotten,
buried in the blackness
in the darkness
in the soil that made me,
the waves that quenched me
the sun which fed me,
the same sun which crushed and bruised
and landed on my lips
that touched my eyes
and made me whole,
the sun that pulled me out of the darkness
for a moment,
such a short moment.

 

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