Caught in between worlds and narratives designed
from mercurial substances laced with unfathomable fears,
no longer bothering to convey their intersections
in a way that integrates with the normal brooding whole,
still skipping diseased words that hold too much power,
in hope of discouraging the old forces from slipping in
like a cataclysmic surge disturbing the ebb and flow of being,
and because I have a history, yet I don’t like inhibitions
that render the core watered-down with lifeless inscriptions.
Anyway, the morning found me sipping the lingering trance of
dewy dreams of an all too familiar setting, concealed for years,
interwoven with unfettered thoughts fluttering like harpies
and kind ravens towards, above, and beyond worlds.
Later, I consumed a piece of media that bothered me,
tapping into a growing discomfort at every variation of evil,
but there’s always a quick fix for that, and I know myself –
fortunately I can un-see, un-hear such things – a talent of mine,
born out of necessity, of self-preservation;
well, it’s because sometimes images used to get stuck
and replayed over and over again,
but that’s classified information I don’t want to unlock;
if nothing else, similar instances are usually eclipsed
by the life-devouring shadows
of much more significant worries-
this is why I don’t mind dwelling on the edge of chaos
as long as I find my definition of peace in it:
every new element propels me further, making sure
I don’t get sucked into the vortex of one.
Listen, it’s tiring to be driven by the many-eyed wings
that pierce through subtleties and silvery surfaces,
to spot pattern discrepancies as easily as one blinks,
whilst the narrative blossoms like a beautiful acacia tree,
but this was not an invitation.
In fact, sometimes, my desires are very simple-
it should be obvious by now, and
whether I’m fine or not is irrelevant-
I want faith, freedom, and to be left to exist
between the tree and the river.