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it's another one of 'those' days. the ones where the light feels too harsh for you to paint. the ones where your thoughts come too fast to attach a meaning to them, then flatline, then repeat, until your fingers falter on the keys and eventually grow cold. where words barely reach the base of your throat, let alone the tip of your tongue. the "how are you"s and the ones who asked the words have both grown weary. you're reminded that you live in the mere gaps between other people's worlds.
the ones that remind you that no matter how crimson, orange, or purple your days get, they've eventually going to go back to being blue.
it's like being fettered in perennial traffic with only different versions of yourself, isn't it? with the horns blaring everywhere around you; the silent sirens of your three a.m. scribbles going up in smoke. the torn notes—the familiar yellow paper scattered on the floor in crumbled, run-over shreds. mixed signals that are now missed signals instead, still blindingly blinking red but far, far in the distance.
red
r e d
r e d
a blur
vague texts and uneven spaces
put together in verses
that once sounded like little cries for help
are now the lyrics to a wordless song
free falling is what this is
through a blackhole
into another one
in the name of free verse.
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*hollow
YOU ARE READING
delirium
Poetrywhen the darkness outside my window turns gloomier than the one inside me, the words embedded in my chest sparkle like jewels. || poetry collection. ©️2019 by auro m.
