The Darklight Awakening

The imperceptible creaking of bones, the mute stretching of rib cartilage

restlessness dances through your cylindrical ear plug, ripping through the quietude in the form of coughs and wheezes and cat hair in the corners of our eyes, the 7 tender holes in my own auricles that for years haven’t had anything in them (you gave me that blue plug but each time an opportunity comes along we forget it’s in my purse—last time i took it out we decided it wasn’t a good time, let’s do it later, and later turned into later later forever), play stop pause record, burn one on top of the other, set this tower on fire, something stabbed me in the kidney, can you hear it, the orchestration of the world’s demise? i am standing everywhere and nowhere dreaming of such and such and the dog snuffles at my leg, my back, then climbs up onto the bed, her backside is heavy and i wake when she rests her weight against me. how could she have known? so sensitive of her, in fact you told me this several times, like that time and that time and that time, and—i can never tell the time in the dark of this room, warm and cool are one and the same, the blue watch ticks loudly, each passing second comparatively longer than its predecessor, this nasty breakout peeling, cut to my fingers on the keys white black white black white white white white where and how does that end, what was i doing again? i am afraid of closed doors, of hands, mine and yours both. the sounds they play, the mistakes they make, the clenching of fists, the fragility in the way these flimsy things hold on is pathetic, almost amusing, and yet i can’t help but— there was this railing and the ring on my finger made this tinny noise against it, and.. so, the sounds are almost musty, the voices in the background crackling, minorsemihopefulmajorminorminor i don’t even know then a sudden aural vertigo—how easy it is to find solace for some when halves are halved quartered slivered diced minced, when and why did i stop being that way, is it because once and for all i want to be one but one but one and—one, one minute the sun is in your mouth another and the moon is on the bed, the mattress sinking, the wood splintering under its weight, clouds float through the mirror one flayed naked mouth to the other, the feeling of being stabbed in the kidney is gone, if i stand here and stare interminably my eyes stop being my eyes, was i looking in the mirror or at you all this time? 

i guess what i am trying to say is, hello, is it me you’re looking for? (this one is a lame attempt to throw you off of your own scent, the smell of the sea always all ways, they say a person can smell any scent properly except for their own—so until that time months ago when you told me i smelled like laundry drying in the sun and old books and the sea too all these years i never knew) 

or maybe it’s something else but conveying it simply was never an option, a touch would not be enough and silence can be misleading. i would play it if only i could remember which feeling to start with and besides i suck, well hello there sobriety.

my lungs are killing me i can’t breathe but i have to go