Covered

Silently softly flakes fell below light while
Alone the moon emptied nothing sudden
Beside the silence
When disturbed I felt cold
Upon the new ground

Excerpt from a new piece

There were messages in the morphine, lethargy at the edge. The pleasure of doing math escapes me and I’m not a sensitive am I? Eternal intellectual pitfalls, what madness is this? No logic or material evidence, love transparent, ephemeral, translucent like a spirit mist. I caught a glimpse of it once and like a ghost hunter I keep trying to capture proof. And what I want is to not have to return to work, to make God’s acquaintance, to be what you thought I was, to disappear. This is a specific neurophysiological state, connections. Writing a complicated infection and the only treatment is persistence. You talk about characters but there is no such thing. What will come of this, when things go too fast. You need time to make time. More likely to forget dreams, hallucinate, limited precise time, maybe around…happiness and glory awaits you. Subconscious communication someone will appoint your thoughts. Practice sitting. Massive steady small perspiring spirit power light and dark knowledge of immortality, unclear end of time, no neat and orderly tight red fleshy drawers. The details are already there. Your world is so small and specific. Shadows everywhere, the intent to murder is there, from the moment everything diverges. A curiosity. I suppose you would say I was dark. Unkind molecules congeal, tick tock, tick tock. The climate of my mind, drastic overcast and stormy. I never really lived in the world. It was always in my mind, the life I created out of difference. The world I created to be allowed to exist, or did I? The assignment is to be what you are not. Wind fire time and place, exit and no exit. I leave no memories. I am not finished. I was always trying to impress the girls. People want what they know. I am nothing like that. Can there be no knowledge without proof? Beyond physical reality outside of time and I like it that way. A little off, just like everything else. I remember when the world ended, I let out a pained howl and closed the door…then it kept happening over and over. The day I realized that people and love was nothing but lies. I know I keep mentioning it, but it’s the truth that everyone is afraid of. Everyone has their obsessions, this is mine. One more thing to tell you. Despite my best efforts (and I am still trying), despite time and distance, most days I still wish you unhappiness. I hope I gnaw at the part of you that knows what you did. Bricks and electric turn cold in an instant for no apparent reason. Yet somehow I can still sometimes make it sound so beautiful I even fool myself. And just like always when I show, no one understands and the inevitable, I become silent.
Sitting on the fence. I am a vague landscape formed out of the silence and so I sit and observe the crows in repose. This is my undoing. Sitting in silence relating to birds more than to people. Participating in melodies and realizing the barrenness. Stark, sparse, the exact exchange unknown. A burrowing slow aimless river through my mind. Brooding and angry. Esoteric cool. Full of wonder and fear. She possesses secret talents.
My only assignment is love.