The unbearably hot days were getting unfathomable. So when they sky darkened over last night, I opened my bedroom window as far as it could possibly go. I felt the first cold breeze I had felt in over two weeks. I was exulted, actually laughing from the relieving winds. Intoxicated by the smell of the rain, I stumbled out the front door and onto the lawn. The grass welcomed my shape and molded to fit around me when I laid down, and I gazed up into the sepia clouds, deep green trees surrounding the horizon. My blue skin glowed up toward the gray colored winds, as I waited for the sky to cry on me.
I flew through an abyss of time, waiting for a drop to land on my stone eyes, paper mouth, granite hand. My winter face forever drained of colors. I was hardened by reality's bright rays, dried out from giving all my strength in the heat, in my own personal drought. I was running on adrenaline, tired of hiding under covers as sunlight crawled through the outlines of the shades. Patience was the greatest asset I bared. Alone underneath a halo that acted as my umbrella, I cursed particles of light that reached the silver wind.
Nobody I told could say they related. They wore small smiles, as if to pretend they could. It's okay. I rather stay in my own world, vastly decorated with muted-color nature, as if a scene from a movie. I just quietly hummed inside my head as I prayed for a rain to fall onto my third eye and roll off onto my temples, soaking the hair there, tracing the outline of my body so it would leave an imprint of me in the earth.
I flew through an abyss of time, waiting for a drop to land on my stone eyes, paper mouth, granite hand. My winter face forever drained of colors. I was hardened by reality's bright rays, dried out from giving all my strength in the heat, in my own personal drought. I was running on adrenaline, tired of hiding under covers as sunlight crawled through the outlines of the shades. Patience was the greatest asset I bared. Alone underneath a halo that acted as my umbrella, I cursed particles of light that reached the silver wind.
Nobody I told could say they related. They wore small smiles, as if to pretend they could. It's okay. I rather stay in my own world, vastly decorated with muted-color nature, as if a scene from a movie. I just quietly hummed inside my head as I prayed for a rain to fall onto my third eye and roll off onto my temples, soaking the hair there, tracing the outline of my body so it would leave an imprint of me in the earth.
This piece is full of your voice-- waiting...seeking relief...full of patience yet running out.
ReplyDeleteYour description of yourself as parts of nature-- stone eyes, granite hand, etc-- is very appropriate for the context in which you're writing. Even though I understand where you're coming from with the "paper mouth", could you have found a third nature item to keep the parallel structure in that statement?
One of my favorite lines in this entry regards your personal drought. It's such an appropriate description for your topic.
This weekend looks promising for me but not so much for you. I hope you find some relief soon.
I get you Sam, at least now I know I do. You are far more interesting than I thought you were (not in a mean way, you know it´s just... you know). So yeah... just wanted to tell you that, though I could say it in much more words, I think sometimes they are not necessary.
ReplyDeleteBtw, why don´t you go on with this? I hope you are still writing. I´d tell you to visit my blog... but you wouldn´t understand it ;)