Three hours of sleep after
Silky blood spilled everywhere
I answered the incoming phone call
Didn't recognize the voice sleeptalking
But I listened to the mirror-silver eyeball
Screaming like a seawave
Creamy sunlight reflected off the glasses
Transparent like the stonewhite mother of a dead son
Each wave lick sugared the seafront
Waxy dreamblue shadows with pineapple
Crab moving lightbeams filled the night with its fruit
I consumed the night dreamblues like air
Felt like treegum in a jar
Sun-baked, footsteps into the pilgrim
Going in and out of rooms
Swallow-white like the moon
Tomato-stuffed and orange juiced
Soup-like, the first of a kind, drifting
Like the dull purple of the budded lavender
Making silky smooth prayers profound in their size
I entered the gateway like mucous or news
Rooted like a tooth, plant in soil
Citywise eyes were snails blinking
Biting the bullet, I'm sand in the pit
Paper shredded, in pieces, in the office
T minus three minutes, heavy like luggage
Scared and anxious, sitting like a duck on a lake
Voices went echoing into the distance
Noise turns into silence
White swallows the rock face
Dr. Hippocrates was a mirror absorbing light
Scry through the crystal ball
A lost memory in the night cell
Is a voltage in the Thames, unchanged
I remained, stable, could taste every last word
That probed into the mind, the deep recess
Bolted shut and padlocked
A million miles from the place I was
Misunderstood like a creature with inner demons
A million miles from winking lights I live
Like the bony night with pixel eyes
I am the rear axle of physics
A mirror image, blood tested and square shaped
The needle was like a gadfly in the blood duct
Wanting bee sugar, wanting it to end
Dewdrops sunk to the seagreen riverbed
It wasn't as bad as I had thought, like a holiday storm
I've been swan white before, otiose and neglected
Unlike a pelican crossing but like midnight
A starlight with milkfeet
I have a heartbeat in my stomach
A heartbeat with goldleaf wingbeats
It was like discovering a heir sleeping
Happy skeleton in the tomb
I'm like a healing fracture in the catacomb
Recovering from warship damage
I'm conscious and awake
Making lemonade.
-
Author:
Jordan Cash (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: July 26th, 2020 13:09
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 34
Offline)
Comments2
I'm not going to pretend i understand this piece other than i can see its a loud distress call.
Quite apart from than, man you sure can write poetry. This is really engaging stuff though i couldn't connect with your metaphors here.
You hit the nail on the head with your first sentence. Also, Thanks for the compliment. Made me smile. It\\\'s okay. This poem is about my mental health and a conversation I had with my doctor, and I\\\'m aware not everyone will get it or relate or care to read it or whatever. Recently I\\\'ve been writing a lot of convoluted and eclectic bullshit which is very personal haha, but I don\'t care to cast the fishing rod into the deep end
X, Quite a vivid account of your journey that day. From start to finish, so honest, so objective through the subjective worries, fears, unknowns, and invasions. When dealt lemons, make lemonade I guess! From the worst kind of being wide awake--that too-familiar insomnia caused by anticipation and knowing how badly you need sleep--to being awake because its over, because you survived, and because you maybe know a little more about you than you did at the beginning. I know there's biography in this art, or maybe it's a little art in the biography, but we can sympathize because you made it so compellingly real. I don't know exactly what it means, but I am fixated on this line: I am the rear axle of physics. Thanks again...
♥♥♥ !!!
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