severe panther
The Fault In Our Cells
I can't sleep
My soul weeps as I think of days in a haze of what ifs and what could have been
Bird songs sing in e flat major
Land with a semiquavor
On window panes with peeling paint
These melodies were meant to be and meant to be heard whilst other souls catch z's
—Slipping feverishly into new realities
Nerves fire electricity, forever stimulating tissues in grand connective tendons
—Tender I am to soft light and bright sunbeams, casting through glass sheets
False shadows murmur
Creeping by almost transparent linen
I am smitten
With dark circles I call it destiny
Rare, and precious, and unseen by many
Few will relish in affectionate memories
Toss and turn haunted by futures unwritten
Nature is bliss nurtured by storms
Dead leaves fall to nourish new growth
Sprout it shall with dewy hope
Mushy and pulpy
Decompose
Feeding cycles of decay
Disintegrate
As spheres oscillate
Spin on axis
I feel static
In constant flow
Hydrogen and helium burn and explode
Supernova
Sewing seeds of stardust
One and the same I am
I could be a black hole
For I am whole in darkness
Illuminate like a beacon
Inconsistent and askew somehow still marvelous and true
The condition of being out of correct position
Ships sail unknown
A tidal force imposed by lunar soil
Oceans fluctuate
Licking earth's edges
I relish as I lay
Gaze falls on wings of smaller beings
And I wonder if it will by some chance occurance…
Are we fated to exist on planned narratives?
Do tiny things affect greater systems?
What is really left unwritten?
All or nothing we spin stories informed by past transgressions and developing perceptions
What am I and what are you?
deep gull
brazen helm