The Apparent Shadow
A human mind swarms. The buzz of yellow fog, it comes, Staring at a nameless construction wheelbarrow, Chariot of angels apparently. And the apparent shadow is far from exactly that. Light that slithers sideways Across brick walls is light that adds to darkness. Tell me this ruin can be rebuilt. Tell me the light will bathe me in belief, and wash me clean of guilt. Did I mention walls give the closest hugs? Not to mention the rugs That speak nonsense plainly, Mainly about unraveling, While my lips go on blabbering Atop towers of scaffolding To wind like the sound of scales slicing Water. We drink in the conversations, then drown in their depths. There is nothing left to say so let us sink into the silence, where our lips still savour the memory of speech. Licking bleach from my fingertips I consider the reach And teach myself not to, Though, I thought to commit a little love somewhere. And I wear the shame on my sleeve like a broken heart. Like an open heart. Like an open crimescene, my chest’s chalked outline lies before us. Like an open wound, I am leaking. My soul is seeking safety, slowly screaming into the sky. Here is a hasty sketch of emotions Drawn up in another reality, The only place that’s possible. It’s not plausible to be saved here. Or meet someone. Greet someone on leaving. The lovers are grieving, heaving stones in their chests. We all have so much soul to carry. Expectations are not high. The weight of everyone shouldered on “Hello” and “goodbye” This time, the latter. Love grows when tongues cut close. The sparks of words start fires in our mouths. But how many mouths can share the same secret? How many graves must we dig to bury the dead? I have chiselled your name into my teeth, so I will die with you on my breath.
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Collaboration between therichtonjournal (standard text) and giraffevader (italics)