Hang on, i hear them say
as i lie on my own puddle of thoughtvomit,
eyes deadstraight
cheek kissing the ground
wiry weary locks swirling around,
flattened by the gravity of nothing.
At this moment, I am unmoving, unlike the world.
Unmoved, unlike myself.
Overwhelmed by senses of nonsensical proportions
in thought and from touch (always too little or too much);
for being blue yet well-burnt
for being infected yet disaffected,
I wish these unwanted emotions would stop mutating.
I am getting too old to see my reflection
post self-contamination and exposure to dangerous fumes of my own virtual reality,
constantly questioning my own sanity when illusions can be truth in its own concealed crumpled convoluted way.
Perhaps this attraction to hypothetical flames
is a way to douse my own nightmares of having been burnt one too many times.
Floating around in circles or among them
Up down left right everywhere nowhere
in a daze
in a maze
it's all a haze at this point
against the backdrop of wonder and wakeful gratefulness
paved with mysterious tracks of apparent randomness.
Or maybe these are merely excuses.
Because I do find peace sometimes.
But just as tears from the past turn into scabs and scars and signs of having lived, the too-familiar cloaks of safety and in denial compresses who and what we are, and the invaluable invisible packets of what's left of life's lessons of what we learn of what we are and should become; that we know we aren't or shouldn't be, are lasered onto my headspace
From snottynosed days where nothing is left untouched
To flushed cheeks where my heart is more than parched
So I heave my body up from the gravel
wheezing dirt and scraping my fists as my voice finally breaks
-- Save me.
One day you will be free
Hold on grab on come on get up
Youcandothis
wash your grimy mask
and plaster on a grin
Fake it till you make it, as they say
Keep swimming in salty tears
Embrace the pouring rain
and rest assured that one day you will be free
but for now
Hang on.
2018-10-17
- originally from 2017-09-04