Poetic Mental Healing: You Showed Me What Would Happen

We speak in my dreams now,

We exist differently, there is no horizon,

The land is the sky, the sky is the abyss,

We dive into each other’s bodies and fates

And minds, lost and rebuilt, your voice in mine,

My scent climbing into your evaporated skin,

We tumble and degenerate, cry and rejuvenate.

There is no death in your face,

I cannot even see your face,

But you’re here, with me, with the world

That we inhabit and create and destroy,

All of our tenses come together and I am hearing everything,

All the rays of connection, one thing leading to another,

Heartache and misery, growth unwanted, stagnant fingers,

Mould on our skins, sieving away, hand to hand,

Head to toe, the baptisms in-between our thighs,

Holy water, holy crimes, mimicry, maps, skeletons,

Prayers that we do not comprehend, beggars and urns.

I bow and I bow and I bow, could not decipher the dream,

The nightmare stinging my nerves, we fell,

Head to toe, fingernails entwined, divine, I wasn’t blind

In my dream, someone called, someone begged,

Someone warned, the walls old as centuries,

Sturdy within nature, the holes and flags and sarcophagi,

Empty or not, awaiting or not, flesh within, coming from without,

From my heart, straight into satin layers, mould mould mould,

I hear myself scream and that’s the sound of running late.

Photo by Sebastian Voortman on Pexels.com

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