dark blue washes over me, blindingly blue paint covers my soul

and wets my irises and penetrates my pores so azure so cyan

my heart is a lump of obsidian rock pumping tar and ashes in indigo veins

chaotic brain so so charcoal with broken pastel scribbles

and Indian ink calligraphy death notes tarnish the white papers and

darkness shrouds my face like a woolly scarf on an asthmatic thermophobe

suppressing and suffocation… I’m suffocating under the weight

It drags me down and I discover the grey that is invincible and

I flail out of control external force metamorphoses to internal anguish

and the floor feels homely or fit for a misanthropic tearful sleep

or do we simply assume to understand each other inconsiderately

when we hide so much from even ourselves for fear of being discovered

and disturbed in our instability and oh that edge looks attractive

but so does the noose so significantly symbolic but I walk a line

and tumble out of acrobatics, circus tent closing in with psychedelic stripes

on my harlequin painted face barely blinking it’ll simply never end and

it snakes around a Modigliani throat like a koala to a tree it holds tight

an Aivazovsky moon beams down on turbulent waters gleaming

and rippling with a flirt so alluring so alluring I gasp in awe

My lies are smashing through to appeal to your traumatic design

My truth your utter destruction and faith’s demise and it lasts

tethered truly and surely like a giant beast you believe tame

but not enough so because it’s impossible to kill all free thought

control is what you want and I laugh in your face like I’m okay

but I just want to dive and float away to some distant land

where ethereal dreams take us to the moon and beyond

freedom no longer an impossible whisper in the dead of night

dare not let the oppressor hear us or see us crack and splinter

spoiled and unsuited for this lifestyle so hollow, plastic and fragile

eternal torture you promised me if I tried but my mortal life alone

fulfills those standards and I’ll tear your heirloom ideals apart

with a rage greater than Jupiter’s unearthly storms and scream

you won’t you won’t you won’t you won’t you won’t

I will leave… through the front door or the bordered back window

I will have my freedom and taste the succulent air of day

not in spite or scorn, that’s so you, I don’t think that way.

I’m not vengeful I think only of the ether

Someday, somehow, today, never but why wait when

there’s such an easy solution that doesn’t involve

moving majestic mountains and burning down inhabited jungles

why wait when it is simply a matter of indifference

the only way out is directly through, no useless foolery

I welcome the sea, the raging ocean, the blistering desert,

the eternal moon over a defiant forest on a glacial mountain peak

Gazing down, staring with concern and never judging

Because what is there to judge but inevitable so-called sin?

(Image not mine)

Advertisements

One thought on “A Definitive Self Portrait or Gymnopaedia

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s