PART I
The sirens of the 21st century call my name
as I lie stationary on the worn couch of shame.
Unable to recall my last thought,
or the last claim.
A whisper in the wind,
a ghost with no name.
It’s on the tip of my tongue.
I can feel its weight,
yet not its semblance.
A faint curiosity is all that tethers
me to myself.
A mist leaves me to the fog,
the fog that returns on the windshield every time I try to stay warm.
The old, deep mustard, clock at the end of the hallway
that is well acquainted with the return.
I can see though the haze—
slightly—
the frosted glass blurs the lights.
For reasons beyond me I stay still.
Meters from the glass,
meters from myself,
I reach for the mindless hit.
Ill-equipped as the brightness of the screen
distorts my memories into a void of lost dreams.
It was on the tip of my tongue.
PART II
You are in a Labyrinth,
a Labyrinth of your own thoughts.
You are tired,
addicted to the trance,
and fearful of prospect.
You move through the hallways with rehearsed movements,
habits not easily unlearnt,
the moves to a featureless dance.
You keep returning, like an old, deep mustard, clock, to the same point,
spiralling.
You will not think.
You must move; you must walk yourself into the ground
so that you are so far-removed from the stagnant haze
that it becomes a fable,
or an old tale.
Do you think it noble to suffer?
What will break this hypnagogic state?
Maybe it’s a melody that floats down the street,
maybe it’s the sound of laughter,
maybe it’s a handwritten letter from a dear friend.
Where are you now?
PART III
We are lost in a sea of sorrow,
forgetting to let the fish catch our eye
in an ocean illuminated by the sun.
We only look down at the rectangles of the wood,
worn and degrading.
A wood that will only continue to rot
until we drop into the water.
Have we forgotten how to talk to people
without telling them nothing
or baring our soul?
Have we forgotten how to be in awe?
Of butterflies and sunsets,
of music and silence,
of stars and the stories shared in a circle.
We would benefit from sitting still
and watching the light move through the trees,
before we drown
in merciless seas.
