Stardust Conversations

Brightness, darkness-- flip it again.

Oscillate through nightmares with a Cheshire grin.

You see black lines in white spaces;

I'm staring at wide eyes in blank faces.

Shook from the sight of a compromising remark,

so why don't we dance together in the masquerading dark?

Flicker to the rhythm of a lilting lullaby.

Crest gently 'long the waves of a soothing tide.

And when the sea falls still, and the starlight fades...

when the world we love wakes up to lonely greys,

I won't say a word, much less beg you to stay...

perhaps just a glimpse of my tail before I can hide.

Don't be too surprised by my abrupt absence.

The shadows suppress my malevolence.

Silence is only so effective a tool

at holding your eyes submerged in wool.

It wouldn't take much, practically a glance,

against my naked narcissism's a*s

to dissolve away this diaphanous mask

and pierce my heart with your derisive lance.

Maybe if you somehow knew, telepathically,

what lurked at the limits of my periphery.

The demons that deigned take pity on me,

mollified by the measure of my insanity;

so rather than beat, they joined me.

Now we just laugh 'til the echoes merge to infinity.

This must be what it's like to comprehend

the fleeting few seconds frozen in between

when a mirror first cracks its flawless veneer,

and the last, jagged shard crumbling into dust.

A million silver splinters of juxtaposed reality,

all slightly-different derivations, single atoms of clarity.

Fragments of a stardust choir, eternally hushed,

and somewhere within in that mesmerizing drear,

a crystalline copy of a lurid scene.

Thought I rewrote the beginning, but I still knew how it ends...

Suppose there's no sense getting stressed over repetition.

We're nothing but the opposite of an intermission.

Days, nights; ons, offs-- all merely a revolving door...

Is it hubris or humorous to think yourself something more?

Are you ready yet, it's your turn to play gargoyle,

or have you suddenly grown fond of that mortal coil?

... I see. 

You must have a weakness for misery.

I sought to spare your broken mind

but it seems my mercy was misaligned...

Well, before I go,

there's one more thing I need to know...

Are you certain you prefer this broken existence,

or is it a fear of some eternal silence?

...

So, flip the lights, ride the waves.

Find that quiet place inside where you feel safe.

I'll be the darkness, so this time you can be the light.

I'll wait down here while you lift off and take flight.

Don't bother looking for me, I'll always run away...

because if you catch me, in the darkness together we'll both stay...

Author's Note

This piece is raw and unapologetic. It's complex and deep; shallow and meaningless-- perhaps all at the same time. I don't really think I can explain it in words, nor do I much care to try.

It's strange to think back on how little I've posted this year, compared to how much I've written. Much of it just collects dust in various notebooks and files and will never be touched again. If it would ever congeal together, I'd probably have more posts this year than last... I just can't forge the effort to fight my own words, discipline them back into lines instead of scrambled heaps of scattered thoughts and juxtaposed prose.

Funny how quickly things can turn on their heads-- not too long ago, I'd have a panic attack at the thought of sharing my writing publicly, followed by a few years of posting things before the ink had even dried. Now, I just can't find the desire to finish anything.

tl;dr - Anxiety is a bitch. Who knew?

Reviews

[Nolo Segundo]

I have come to believe, especially in my old age, that ALL creativity comes not from the mind, conscious or even the unconscious, but deeper, from the soul. This is why it can never be taught nor copied, and no android will ever give Shakespeare a run for his money. I don't think you see it yet (and may never) but your work is touching on, probing even, your soul and-- in the way that all existence is related, connected-- every soul. And that is why you must write, and why you do it so well.