another day

another day

I invented this day,

I imagined you and me,

 in the middle of it,  by the shores,

 we walk west through the cold sand,

 pines darkening nearby,  wind whispers to the ocean,

waves rushing away,

low clouds ready to burst with tears…

and everything is so incredibly boring, dead.

the sunset

never drifts into the night, the waves stay frozen, still

 pines smell like paper

and we are just  shimmering shadows, somewhere

 between light and darkness.

nothing really matters, when you lived it all, remember it all

when the air, you breathe, condensed  and heavy

from the rituals and sacrificial fires

and your blood is as old as the soul of  a burned tree,

hovering over the forest. when your heart is as vacant

as an empty shell sunken in the sands where

pearls are asleep, curled up in embryos,  when you are roaming

somewhere… nowhere, between the clouds and grass

as if you are a feather in search of a bird, when you see

where your ashy bones, stripped of all memories, rest.

Death laughs from the fringes of my mind

 I’m busy inventing another day

c: Nina K Orlovskaya@9/24/2012