Friday, December 26, 2014

surviving the mind (throwback.)

surviving the mind
October 25, 2010 at 12:45am

i burned a crude effigy today,

in the lightless afternoon

no one attended, though to be fair

i admit it to not quite be the affair i'd intended.



i carried my concerns there with me, after shopping,

after strolling through the store and the park and eleven

miles of shit i've seen any other day i've been out,

near home.



i gripped them as though i'd never let them go,

though the purpose of taking them outside was to lose them,

lose myself without them amidst the greying daylight,

somewhere between the dim midday and the darkening afternoon,

drawing and dragging the cloak over the sun into the abyssal dusk.



i admit these, my concerns, to be very near to my only friends,

and as the near-colorless sun sets on us, we can weep together,

in darkness, and in cold, alone, where no one can see us and our sores,

where there is no hope of a new light to shine on us, just a copy of a copy

of one greyscale day after another.

again and again,

restless repetition

into the end.



i clutch them close, crushed quietly into my chest,

pressed there against the ribs, a rigid but hollow shell,

my husk.

because they are the only ones that can replace what it seems

i've been missing, what i've lost, or forgotten,

or never learned

since birth,



something that would mean we explain the journey down the aisles

between the bar stools.

something that would explain away the time it takes me to wind through

the tangles in your hair

before you've left.



before you go.



i carried all my concerns with me today to the fire,

to arrange them into the shape i imagine my heart to be,

to burn.

to watch it tremble, to watch it fade and wither

into ash

into my hands, after you you've left.

it's what we do.

again and again,

day after day.



tomorrow, i'll be leaving you all at home