sheets of night sky

It is Sunday morning, and it is 4 am.

 

 

I have always found choral music to be extraordinarily peaceful

It’s like my soul has been parched and finally I am letting water slide down its throat with a clean refreshing

Something.

Invigorating.

The weight of thirst has subsided its relentless choking of my conscious with its bony fingers

But the desert sands that surround my most inner self still batter against the empty spaces

Eroding everything in its path with a vigor.

Although I am being refreshed

I can feel myself bubbling up from the deepest trenches within my body

Sheets of night sky waving and rippling

Gently pushing away the box covers that I carelessly sealed with a stretch of worn tape.

A steady price to pay in order to feel

Something.

Here I am with so many choices

And yet it feels as if I don’t have any.

Day by day, bits of me float off in a daze

A warm huff of air rushing away on a breeze.

I look back on the past and think

What happened?

But then I remember.

You happened.

Time after time, a “you” reached deep into my throat and yanked out a fistful of my trust without a second thought.

I have become numb all over

But I still think of clouds and humming and porcelain free of cracks and fear

Silhouettes in the corner of my vision.