A Catatonic Simian
Ex-Bluelighter
I can't remember the moment I let go, that final stumble into a black oblivion.
Oh how I must have cleared that hurdle so easily!
The memory. That vague, cloudy presence, that tugs at me like an orphaned shadow. Grateful to cling to this new life and shape gifted to it by the sun of my own tragedies.
A parasite. One who eats from the table of another.
An uncomfortable weight with neither need or ambition to become anything more, than an uncomfortable weight!
I awoke where the sea comes in to meet the boats that crowd it's shoreline.
Chilled to the bone, heaped on the sand. A bundle of thrown away rags that take the shape of me when I move.
Wave after wave re-carves it's million year old signature on rocks. Filling the air with salted breath as it constantly torments me.
Sending foot soldiers of rancid grey froth to scout the positioning of my weaknesses.
The scream I am about to give birth to is pulled from my throat by the crude midwifery of the gulls that wheel above me. They fly it, bloodied and naked, to a place far, then regurgitate it where no one can hear it's slow release.
I think about home, I cry like a child. I pray for help from a god I have ridiculed and doubted all my life. The irony of selfishness isn't lost now. neither is the salt of my tears.
I have stumbled into someone elses soul. They must have removed mine like a coat, and cloaked me in their own.
A straight swap.
Karma has no preference.
Oh how I must have cleared that hurdle so easily!
The memory. That vague, cloudy presence, that tugs at me like an orphaned shadow. Grateful to cling to this new life and shape gifted to it by the sun of my own tragedies.
A parasite. One who eats from the table of another.
An uncomfortable weight with neither need or ambition to become anything more, than an uncomfortable weight!
I awoke where the sea comes in to meet the boats that crowd it's shoreline.
Chilled to the bone, heaped on the sand. A bundle of thrown away rags that take the shape of me when I move.
Wave after wave re-carves it's million year old signature on rocks. Filling the air with salted breath as it constantly torments me.
Sending foot soldiers of rancid grey froth to scout the positioning of my weaknesses.
The scream I am about to give birth to is pulled from my throat by the crude midwifery of the gulls that wheel above me. They fly it, bloodied and naked, to a place far, then regurgitate it where no one can hear it's slow release.
I think about home, I cry like a child. I pray for help from a god I have ridiculed and doubted all my life. The irony of selfishness isn't lost now. neither is the salt of my tears.
I have stumbled into someone elses soul. They must have removed mine like a coat, and cloaked me in their own.
A straight swap.
Karma has no preference.
