Swim in memories,

slipping through cupped hands.

The softness of flesh, the warmth of breath,

Confined to mystical lands.

Do intertwined fingers exist?

Will my ears find a heartbeat outside these walls?

Art of a lonely mind,

Sculpted while reality stalls.

Heavy breaths…

Fall on fuzzy ears,

Blueprints of connection,

Washed away with tears.

Imprints of another body,

A ghost fading away.

Entangled limbs,

Just a tease of an imagined day.

Words are all that’s left,

The fingers that write them, are they real?

Fingers that were lost in my hair…

Memory, fiction, or will I once more feel?

Weeks, months, no, only days,

Formless, a blur, stumbling through the haze.

Cling to the promise of light,

The hope that there is escape from this endless night.

Purposeless, aimless, wander alone,

Shackled, chained to the cage of one’s home.

Another’s warmth is but a memory, fading,

Tend to the embers of connection, waning.

Hold on to the reason, the why,

Withdraw for love, not just to comply.

A raging whirlwind,

hair tearing from the roots,

Anger,

Denial,

O' so tempting of fruits.

But all that is left

when the storm settles down,

the tears of the world

in which to drown.

A hollow husk,

drifting atop the waves,

A castaway shell

is all that remains.

Listless, we float,

the sky a prison of gray.

Time, an endless drone,

no night, no day.

We seek warmth, solace,

the guidance of light,

But in the depths of this misery,

not a thing shines bright.

Concealment is our mandate,

to veil the world from our sorrow,

This weak flicker of light,

artificial,

only borrowed.

The world rushes by

without a backwards glance.

The dirges our accompaniment

To this mournful dance.

How to express, to define,

an ache so deep,

A pain that even haunts

the promised escape of sleep.

It does not burn,

it does not lick

with a tongue of flame.

It leeches,

it devours,

leaving you with not but a name.

It does not bite,

it is not hasty,

not a stinging pain.

It engulfs,

All-consuming,

A merciless drain.

Battle is futile,

Hope a mythological thought,

It seeps, a slow poison,

Leaving you craving that one shot.

But to capitulate, to surrender,

Cannot be our course,

Carry on in the name of love,

Remember, without remorse.

I feel like falling...

Here on the cold, gray pavement,

Here in the sea of paper-crammed desks,

Here by the towering aisles of choices,

Here with the half cleaned wood floor,

And here, at the hearth of my beginning,

To succumb to capitulation,

To simply fall,

fall as the world speeds around.

Veils we have donned as we tread through life,

woven from shadow,

fading us into the backlight.

Cloaked, shields up, lips sealed,

Ghosts in the flesh,

Observing without observation.

Here is comfort,

here is sanctuary,

A defense against the nature of humanity.

But human nature knows no deception,

It is indestructible,

permanent,

inscribed in the essence of our being,

So as the walls of our protection encircle us, promising escape,

The deep ache of longing betrays us.

We crave that which causes pain,

The warmth, the love, the connection

We fear it,

choose to conceal ourselves from it,

But there is no escape from the hollow that fills us,

the emptiness that floods our veins,

The only remedy being,

that which terrifies us.

Forever suspended in purgatory, Caught between the cravings of human nature,

and the prisons of our own making.

Pounding, banging,

a cacophony of the unwanted.

Every look, every gesture,

welcomes in a new wave of

doubt,

fear,

paranoia.

Every sight, every perception,

adds to the clanging,

the throbbing

of an internal hailstorm.

Brought without cause,

manifested by thought,

ingrained by habit,

the eyes dart,

the heart quickens,

the breath halts,

All masked with a smile and a nod.

Treading unbeknownst in every mind, a lurking shadow without figure. Ethereal, fantastical, a character of the mind, his existence is whispered into the crevices of the world. At the dawn, so it is. He remains elusive in the fabrics of fiction. 

As the beams of life start to emanate across the horizon, his shadow begins to take form and solidify. His imminent presence brings a cloud of dread. As the first icy breath tickles the back of your neck, he steals the irretrievable, leaving only the black knife that pierces you. It is poisoned, spreading its cold, ruthless venom to every fiber of your being. You see him clearly for the first time; an enemy is born. 

You live with the mark of his darkness for some time, before once again you feel the crawl of his fingertips along your spine. The knife drives with familiarity this time, but just as raw, just as agonizing. The animosity turns to ache, capitulation, despair. He is the victor, and you fall slave to his musings, hypnotized by the prospect of finality. He turns you against his opposer, and now a new hatred, a new rivalry forms; he is now your savior from all that is wrong. But he passes by you, leaves you to the pain, the turmoil, as you await his rescue. You beg and plead into the heedless night for the nameless stranger to offer his companionship, to vanish into his domain.

No word, no whisper of his whereabouts. You must move on and let his shadow fade into the distance. For he does not offer comfort. He is distant and cold, fraught with purpose. Let him diminish into the recedes of the universe, you will come to know him in time. When dusk sets in, his figure will loom larger, more vivid, more tangible. No knife, no enmity, an embrace awaits, familiar and welcome, as equals you become with a final breath.