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
