There must be a sense of euphoria akin to being Godlike when you are a creator …
To hear someone yelling the words to your first song at the top of their lungs, finding meaning and claiming it as their own as much as they do their own name
To see someone display your artwork in the entry way of the place they choose to call home, proudly showing it to every visitor as they would a newborn child
To have someone immerse themselves in your written words, repeating it to themselves like some holy gospel and carrying it close up under their heart for comfort
To know that you have expressed something into existence which has found its own path of illumination past the threadbare, warped corridors of your brain must be the greatest feeling in the world.
In the lilting light I watch you liquify
Parts of yourself spilling slowly along
The length of my bed and solidifying again
I run the tip of my finger along your body
It delves deep… probing… never to surface.
In an age that I can no longer remember
I had limbs that were limber and supple,
I moved with the ease and grace of one
Who had not yet seen the terrible delights
Of a world that grips us tighter each day.
But as time drew the life from my body
I became cold and hard as alabaster
Eventually rooted and frozen in place
And then they came… the parade of thieves
Armed with their chisels and hammers
To carve away at and dismember me
Stealing what little value there was,
Leaving a fraction of me to the elements
By the time you found me I was nothing…
A mere shadow of myself set in stone.
You pulled me against you, close. With every breath you took I sank deeper into you but felt the wall begin to build between us, summoned by my own innermost demons.
Each feeling a concrete block to reinforce the seemingly insurmountable obstacle that looms between myself and anyone else. For every centimeter you drew me closer I felt myself moving a mile away.
You sleep peacefully while I lie awake every night with these thoughts roiling in my head and a heavy knot in my chest as I struggle with the expectation of the inevitable let down.
I stood with my long arms splayed above
To welcome the fiery warmth of the sun
My toes dug deep into the dark, moist earth
My fingers stretched to meet a waiting sky
I felt my torso harden and become gnarled
While green leaves sprouted at my crown
I became rooted in place…
An oaken memory of a life past it’s time.
That attempts to
Reinvent myself have
Only led to carbon copies…
Dealing with yourself
Means having to admit that
You might be crazy.