Cloudy Moon Aura

Waking. I look and see nothing in a creek I drained, hotline born again. Life tapers into a whimpering breath, the sad realisation we are getting older and our prized youth is a fading memory. Cold water splashes on the face. Cool droplets of blue liquid remind me the fire is burning out, the push and pull of meditations in long grass are years we never explored, motherly love we adore. A misty snowfall illuminates and bleeds like smoke from my eyes. Now I'm holding onto the magic of a city at night, a stranger following me home. I think in numbers and plead to no avail, and practice in silence like the punctuality of a piano. Sculpted marble. In a dark room I feel looming doom, a permanent scar in the prison of my mind. Sulphates, geodes and oxides. Sugar alcohol, inositol. Paralysed in sleep. My dreams bulge like a dream, a relic at high altitude. I've made a mountain out of you, and seen the sentimental erosion, the salt of every poem, poison seeping from the soft edge of reality. I hated the world and everyone in it. I wanted to peel it like an orange and be done with it. I don't want to breath it, I want to leave it. The worshipped skull. Careful not to prick my thumb. I trace my finger across a gold rim, the crooked curves and flat surfaces. The dust has gathered here like limp voices, voices I know well like I know you well, your touch and your smell. A pearl in an ocean, a kiss in a lake.