Friday, July 24, 2015

so much, so many

Heal me.
in the fire of the sound, satiate my disease, satiate this infection
I feel so numb to the horizon
And I fear nothing
Save for the dawns that will not come
As if only to be haunted by the echoes of the hopes that I once held precious
Pull me from this wreckage
Absolve me of this ache

The words so clumsily
Fumbling to describe
That thing; that thing, in this reality
So I turn to talking about black holes or some bullshit
I feint and struggle and mumble
Stark and naked like this thing that sits before me I can’t describe
Mired in how inconceivable I am to others

And it feels chilled extremities in a warm bath
Cool, and slightly electric

Calming but slightly catastrophic
Like awakening in darkness in a familiar place
From dreaming of all the lives you may never lead
And yet they always feel like deja vous
It always seems familiar though its completely beyond this reality
Busily superseding this guise
In the power that absolves all of this
Like watching water drain out of the sink
A thousand times at some other kitchen job
Each time dispersing of your life one curious sink-full at a time
As some mysterious time-consuming force absolves you of yourself
Envisioning the vortex
yet remaining vulnerable to the incessant pull
in this plane
manifested as some other distraction

it is there in the sand
as a taste of absolution
as if to remind the imminentness of this universe
is that it will be finitely impermanent

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