Musings

9 - Anathema

Open- into the somnolent sky. Sombre, silvery, tranquil.
Grass cushioning my body; cool and tickling against the skin
Immersed in a gentle mist, eyes shutter with its placid lull

Again- into the louring sky. Bitter droplets kissing my face
Wounding, burning, tearing down the fruitless canvas
Acid desiccating, materialising skin-tearing, rugged spikes

Mine- I embrace it, welcome in my arms. All of it is mine
From the jagged rocks to the drowning storm; the biting cold
and the blistering sun. Bleeding canvas, vile canvas

Whisper- velvety voices echoing in the mind.
Like camera flares, incinerating my eyes. My vision - burning
Hot flashes of red and orange and white. Infernal cinema.

Cool- rain droplets on my face. The windows open
A sunless sky and frigid wind welcome me back
Sense returning in waves - crashing, eroding the inept mind

Dull- the expression in my eyes, feeling in my heart
As I sit up and meet my indignity. A lonely easel covered in rug
And as I pull at the cloth, I see an atrocity like a mirror to myself.

And then I feel I should close my eyes again.
For a little longer or permanently.
That, I'm still undecided.