I never knew reality could pierce so deeply. So the vision was not only mine. The days fall over in a series of coincidences and I am holding on for dear life. If only I could reach my hand into the fire and come out unscathed. I had no idea how terrified I was of living. There isn’t much air to breath. The wind tries to break through the windows at night. I hear it coming through the fences I built around all the bad dreams.
I feel you constantly, flowing in the depths of my consciousness like an unseen underground river. I’ve been kept up at night by rivers like that. Now to find a way to go deeper…to find the hidden springs…to find the source which lights the city and consequently, the lights which would finally illuminate a path worth following…
It is very cold at these depths. Maybe it is not a river I was sensing but an ocean. The type of ocean which is black and filled with stars. A liquid melt of the cosmos right here at the center of the world. I could go deeper. I will always take a chance to go further.
The atmosphere lulls again, it slips into the coolness of falling stones.
You’re divine. Like a dream. Even when the world is cast in shadow. Within the city there are smaller cities, entire ecosystems as I revisit the past in the present. It’s all new but also preserved in memory and I feel my heart pressed like a flower between the pages of your voice.
In truth, so much happened but I kept looking in your direction. Even as the night got louder and the world began spinning and the dark sky was lit up in red, blue, green, pink, white, yellow. I am conscious only of drowning in oceans and oceans of desire and the unlimited glamours of a bursting world.
What more is there to say? The library looks like it belongs to one of those unreal metropolises. There is the maze of concrete and the industrial-bred deep sea ferns. Thinking of the perfect specimen. The leaves which spread in my hand, the lines and pattern marking me. Here is a nursery overgrown by ivy and rust. I keep pretending. I keep dissolving into the white light of the imagination. I keep thinking of new ways to say your name. I am caught in the wild repetition of clear blue skies.