I.
The time is 8:45.
I'm on the road
Pitch black
Twin headlamps gliding by like
Glowing eyes of a soulless creature
Predatory.
So I lied, okay,
It's actually ten past five
Blast the high altitude early sunset
That plunges us into Nyx far,
Far earlier than I am prepared for.
We thank the gods the Solstice has passed.
It will get better
Maybe not that soon
But definitely eventually.
I cannot allow any other possibility.
It HAS to get better, don't you see?
It has to get better
Because this -
The fardels I fashioned and put on my own back -
This cannot be forever.
I refuse to entertain the option.
Is it possible to threaten life into getting better
Out of desperation?
Well, we're doing it
We're doing it and it's going to work.
II.
We pass each other without acknowledgement
Voyagers on the path from mountain to sea
Silent companions?
Deathly strangers?
This is the only way I know:
I am not the only.
There are others here, too
Presence a small comfort.
I'm hurtling at speed in a big metal nox
And the passengers -
We do not speak. We do not breath.
There's a beautiful girl in the seat next to me -
I do not look at her.
I say I do not wish to be born in the past
But I yearn for its community anyway.
III.
How does one begin to explain this?
This not-quite-comfortable silence,
This not-quite-comfortable darkness
Just staring out the window
Passive
Removed
Cut off from the world.
Such intense isolation
That leaves a dangerous amount of space
For the thoughts inside your brain
To get louder
And louder
Deafening.
Too loud to hear the birds chirp
Too loud to hear the flowers bloom
(Cus it's winter, you idiot.
There are no birds or flowers in winter.)
How desperately I wish for spring
For light.
For forgiveness.
Forgive me lord for I have made bad financial decisions
And a lier of myself.
YOU ARE READING
i tried: poems from a lost soul
PoetryA collection of sophisticated word vomit I puked up when I got bored. Updates whenever. Chapters ordered chronologically by date penned.