Stained sheets, complicated sleep.

Stained sheets and an empty bottle of corn syrup lay at the foot of my bed.

An empty and vacant mind, faded memories and a crimson internal room where I dare not tread.

Once we were capable of lifting the veil, seeing beyond the current moment, one in which we engage reality through mortal combat, the ultimate prize being nothing more than survival unto the following dawn, now a dreaded sunshine breathes easily upon my sore neck.

Feathers. Always plucked feathers. Scattered across the now embittered enclave where we tend to rest our exhausted heads.

This is not how it began nor is this how we shall end.

Attempting to decipher unknown hieroglyphics, just so that I may possibly see the mystery, that which is deep within your ever so familiar head.

It smells of a fine Arabian bean brewing a delicate liquid that may shrink the horns that grew upon me during our last encounter.

Don’t falter now sweet one, the sunset that we seek is forever yonder.

For there is no end date, no place to demonstrate, how you and I have been feeling as of late, laying in our own sarcophagus of fate.

Truth is what we make it, your freedom and my own, now are we willing to take it?

See through it for we truly are naked, these clothes are a mere emotional blanket.

And time is a rhyme that I play with as grapes do so that they may be turned to wine. Fine tuning, so that eventually I may align, to a certain posture, one that is true to the atomic structure created within an experimental room within my mind.

Natural growth so to speak. As roots thrust themselves deeper and deeper into the earth from this simple tree.

So it is, that we shall meet, upon a rigid bed with stained sheets.

With corn syrup strewn across the area where we rest both head and feet, polar opposite.

This is not bleak, for we have the opportunity now to open our mouths and speak.

Of dreams that we cling to.

The lives we are meant to fulfill.

The paradise that we seek to ultimately build.

Of times hindered by our own trauma, a burnt bridge that we can repair together.

Of love that we wish to set sail.

So tell me, indeed tell me now. If we are to map out unknown territory in the thrill of insanity and denial, will we be able to climb the peak set before us.

Triumphs and tribulations await us most certainly, but that is the path of the Human spirit. We must build dexterity, flexible through all trials and build stamina so that we may endurance what is to come.

For I will never be bought out in a lump sum, nor will I allow the ghosts to haunt me until I am numb.

So tell me, please tell me now. Will you wash these wounds? Scrub away this syrup? Stain the sheets once more? Before we set out on a journey that will allow us to truly take control of our innermost Being, that which resides in our core.

As I have been in isolation for quite some time and the idea that it should continue frightens me. I’d rather have your true colours shine alongside me.

A prism can only release the full spectrum of the rainbow for those that stare forward, rather than towards their feet.

Thank you for reading. Please share with those that you believe will enjoy my work as well, as always, sending you light through love,

Brandon

Categories Personal Thoughts, poetryTags , , ,

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