the inner recesses of my heart.
They are forbidden to you,
shut and sealed forever.
My black atman backlit by life.
A dark spirit consuming all.
A silhouette of what used to be.
An unfillable hollowness.
Barren promises, once made,
now shattered and broken.
I shall not let anyone know me,
for I am death. My touch is final.
Odious deeds follow in my wake.
Darkness enfolds all who reach out to me.
Remember always, when you look back,
wondering who I was, and who I have become
You did this to me.
Pencil to paper,
an image forms.
The eye knows what it sees,
the hand follows suit.
Through all ages
artists pour out their hearts
in crisp lines and muted tones.
capturing love and beauty.
Roundness of a shoulder,
gleam in an eye,
hair flowing in the breeze.
Rustling leaves on autumn trees,
bilious clouds above,
breathtaking rise of a mountainside.
Still life and models,
all brought into being
by the stroke of charcoal,
graphite, or brush.,
as the artist breathes life
into all he touches.
Music without sound.
Poetry without words.
Life as art.
Art as life.
Trying to recall past events,
a vague discomfort fills the mind.
Memories can hold altered truths,
as we mold them to our needs.
What remains is a nebulous remnant
of reality, bent to our own vision
of how we wanted things to be.
Veracities still hide within the illusion.
Desires left unfulfilled are now
concrete in our minds. No one can
tell us otherwise, for we have
convinced ourselves to believe
the half-truths that we tell over
and over again. For in the telling
of them they become factual to
- Altered states of being.
Twisted bedsheets, tangled limbs.
The fury of another night, war torn
and scarred. The enemy, myself.
A battleground of my mind.
Relentless images invade
with incessant word. Pillows
and blankets litter the floor,
innocent victims of the onslaught.
A glaring clock mocks as
minutes turn to hours, and
a litany of worries parade across
the ceiling, no redemption in sight.
I pray for peace. I count my breaths,
waiting for sleep, an elusive friend,
to take me by the hand. Another night
of fury, and still no rest within reach.
Daylight shimmers on blacktop,
from relentless summer heat.
Sultry waves form mirages,
distorting distant objects.
Steam rises up from a far off marsh,
creating a nightmarish fog.
Oppressive days stretch
into endless weeks.
Shade sought as temperatures
reach towards one hundred,
Burned earth, withered vegetation,
torrid air baking all it touches.
A prayer goes up for rain,
with no relief in sight.
Strangled breaths struggle
in stifling humidity.
Sweltering restless nights,
while a ceiling fan whirls on high speed.
Summer’s punishment in full force,
in the grips of a July heatwave.