Wild Blue

The arms pain and they can’t stitch together minutes and hours, as seconds swing by. The sky has apocalyptic lips, and words echo against its burnished vigour. The emptiness of my room, is an oceanic inspiration to raise a spark that shivers and wails then comes down slowly, plunging apart into the unfurling chasm, and withstanding only a stranger eye.

And I gaze the whirring in my head, it’s a psychedelic representation that flickers on a blank screen, and travels on drinking sprees. It’s there to make clear that I have no sheer clarity to cut high hopes that I thought I didn’t have, which I rebuffed as immature saying I was not.

I start innocently the day, with evil intentions, and suspend all suspicions that I have had about my life. Now, I succeed in cracking purple but not the golden fiend. And so all tomorrow’s festivals kneel down to the mistakes of today, which is where and when I am. Everything adds up to immorality, so with or without a dire mind I’ll have to corrupt the whorish glory of tears. Nighttime reverberates in the valleys of my brain, my head aches with thundering wrongness. I have no room for questions, and the truth is lost on me. I’ll paint my touch and move far away, hearing the lulls of vintage themed singers, dying Hollywood leaders who read my mind far more often than I create what I envision.

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Watt

It's all a matter of rust and shine, to serve a distinction between to have and to have not.

25 thoughts on “Wild Blue”

  1. This gives a sense of the noisy world crashing around you in a way you have no choice but to endure…apocalyptic lips and whorish tears. There are so many lines and phrases within this that are poetic genius in their exquisite description of pain…, painted touch…

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  2. Wow! “I have no sheer clarity to cut high hopes that I thought I didn’t have” “I have no room for questions, and the truth is lost on me” as stated in the comment above this is genius and oh, the pain portrayed through the words…….

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  4. “Nighttime reverberates in the valleys of my brain, my head aches with thundering wrongness.” Soul. Beauty. I wonder if this is the doom of so many, who do so little wrong… perhaps mostly the best artists.

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  5. I start innocently the day, with evil intentions — a wonderful line. Clearly born in the mind of a character with no sheer clarity.

    It reminded me of the lyrics by the Smiths:
    I was happy in the haze of a drunken hour
    But heaven knows I’m miserable now.

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  8. This piece feels different than your others. Sometimes it seems each new prose you share is riding on the one before it, like you’re writing the story of your life, page by page. Either way, a lot of great lines in this one, snippets that would be great morsels to chew on in some cafe somewhere. What a great conversation that would be 🙂

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