Poetry: Subconscious Salvation


Only when the night comes

Am I reminded of all the disappointment

and the reality of everything

Maybe it is something about the solitude –

and Silence –

Of the blackness of nocturnal existence

That suddenly stirs my mind

Where the only lullaby being sung

Are the voices cooing poison in my head

The distraction of daytime

The occupied hours

The brief moments of absolute completeness

Perhaps sun rays and laughter

Fill the polka dot patterns of emptiness within us

and when the sun leaves

Our hollowed souls echo with each passing wind –

and sigh – pitifully –

The moments where I am whole

In the time of lingering loneliness

Is when my eyes

Empty themselves

While I am flat on my back

And they slide down my neck

The only terrain of their existence

And pool within the hollow spaces

Of my collarbone

But when I wake –

They run down my body

Like a cup turned over

and wash away my pain

and fill my body’s polka dot patterns

and I recycle each and every salty drop

Feeding my veins and my mind

Until the night

Dries me – once again –

Suffocating me into sleep,

From the reminder of loneliness

and fills the sloping curves of my neck and collarbone.


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