I wish I could swipe a knife through the air and make a gash in tonight, so that I could slip through the opening. On the other side of the invisible curtain, now hanging down around its tear, there would be a better place. A softer place.
A place where the starry skies are made of velvet.
Take the chance.
Have a look.
Pull back the curtain.
Or if you cannot, make it look more real. Make the world look real. Make my existence more than a game of chance. I am tightrope walking on the cliff’s edge -tumble to the left or tumble to the right-. The winner takes the haul and the loser falls into the abyss. I am looking for a direction that isn’t down. I am looking for a ship to sail me across the sea, to the other side of the curtain, to the place where the starry skies are made of velvet.
The abyss is starting to look appealing in itself, the depths are calling in echoes on a loop. Which was the first? Which will be the last? Is there a hope to resist their summons, the echoes on a loop, the echoes in a hunting circle, the echoes from the dark?
Where are the stars? Where have they all gone?
The dark is beginning to look like welcoming velvet.
The wind is now a player, it pulled up a chair at the poker table. Tumble to the left, tumble to the right, or let the wind decide? Let the wind define your worth, let the wind decide which is real, let the wind take all the chips.
Catch me I’m falling and the blackness is so real, let me go to the place, let me cross to the other side, let me pull back the curtain, DON’T let me fall.
Tumble to the left, tumble to the right, learn how to walk a tightrope.
The world is a stage.
There was never any sky.
Only the curtain.
Only the dark.
Only the poker table.
Only the wind.
Only the tightrope.
How would you rate my performance?
Tumble to the left, tumble to the right.
and I fall between the lines of my own words.
