At dusk, the memories rush in.
Seeping their way through the layers of nonsensical shapes behind my eyes,
Whole galaxies emerging,
As I rub too hard, trying to pre-empt the attack.
Does the longing ever cease?
Or does it simply take on new forms.
I think of myself in a vacuum,
A separate entity to the wonders of the world,
Those that I can never fully access,
Nor deserve.
My grandmas high, tuneful laugh
Greeting me as I wake
A monstrous betrayal of my psyche
The cruellest of jokes, for some outsiders amusement, played on only the most worthy,
And the most lonely.
-
Sucked into the dangerous pit of nostalgia,
I peek through the floral net curtains to marvel at my old life.
Drained of colour, my old body looks at me desperate with worry
Does it know its fate is already sealed?
Its abilities beginning to fade,
I watch it writhe with uncertainty.
Droplets on my notebook appear without my permission.
The scene drags on like watercolour, unpredictable, unsure of itself,
A brain scrambling to fill the gaps with something solid
Pure and unmoving and good.
The past is capable of shapeshifting.
How can I afford to spend time reminiscing?
Cascading with perilous emotion, crumbling at the edges.
The present has too many stringent demands,
Pressed into my chest.
I was miserable then too.
god i loved this so much … so beautiful