Silence
Amidst
Air conditioner fluid
Dripping into vents.
A few cold shapes, coins, 10 cents.
Digging into my back.
Suffocating between my body and the bed.
Nothing ever began.
To be left unsaid.
Trickling though pipes in the wall.
Leaking quietly into my consciousness.
Weeping seeping oozing out my ears
Onto my pillow
Drooling burgundy dreams
breathing yellow
Fatigue. Breathe in
Breathe in deeply
Breathe in the mellow
Breathe in deeper
I still feel hollow.
Suddenly inhaling doesn’t feel the same
I think as i snort a hurricane.
Gasping Fighting Writhing
I am the fish that died of swimming
The somewhat humanoid reincarnation
Of Suffocation
induced by a desperation
to breathe
Try to Breathe
Through the mouth
Either air is sucked in
From nothing to nothing
Or voice comes out
A hopeless bout
I want to be heard.
But I have nothing to shout out
So I thrash pointlessly
Gaze soullessly
Tramping an endless miserable quest
In search of the laugh lines
that used to live on my face.
And held hands with my eyes .
A fantastic expedition to find
The roots of the word disgrace
Branded in purple,
behind my left knee
A dirty word, “secret”
a loveless hickey
A tattoo screaming Rigret.
An assortment
of cardboard colored freckles
coming together to form
the cartograph of a country
Too shameful to be thought of in public.
Silence
Amidst occasional sounds
Of nails scratching against skin
Nails breaking unflinching skin
Shoes squeaking quietly, just outside .
Outside the closed room,
One and a half times
Catching themselves
before the sound repeats
the mistake of its existence.
It is heard one instant
and the next it just ceases
Three and a half sneezes.
Leaving me hanging
without any sense of closure or warning
Sounds of sock covered feet
rubbing against sock covered soles.
Things feels incomplete
My fingers feel old
Like drops of orange juice
stuck in a groove
at the bottom
of a bottle
Like a descending staircase
That’s never ends.
Like a tourist hotel
Without shower caps
Breaks that feel like work
unsatisfying naps
During which you dream of your schedule
This part of life feels like an easily ignored module
In an instruction manual
In a sub section on page 12
Titled how not to get hurt
These days
Often times
Thinking things is not enough
They must be uttered
Written down Rhymed
The need to compartmentalize
Forcing “stuff “into
One size too small Boxes
So they too can empathize
With the fortune of inhabiting
a physical space in time
I have been packing bags under my eyes
Filling my lungs with sighs,
In preparation of the time
the surface of the ocean
will swallow the tip of my head.
And every vestige of my existence
will be lost to aerial view.
My sighs will warm my body then.
warm it with dread.
Like cold pools of water do,
On even cooler days.
the styrofoam peanuts
will clog the holes
in my punctured lungs
It might get lonely
It won’t be ideal.
But at least I will be free
from the guilt
that comes with occupying space
breaking silences.
It will be a quiet existence
But it will have to be sufficient.
