Whirling Dervish

i do miss you

sometimes

when i feel like the world is collapsing around me

crumbling

like my face crumples and the tears start falling, silent daggers zigzagging down my cheeks....tears of blood, that hang at the edge of the pinacle of the glacier...gleaming in the light..

the eerie greyness that filters through the small window high up in the wall...illuminating, in the shadows, the crimson droplets, that stand out against the grey canvas,
the canvas that is personified in blacks and whites, but mostly streaks of blurred grey


the paint is lumpy, with sharp edges at some points....a series of peaks and valleys....the highs and lows of the mistakes ive made....

positive experiences are not represented in my painting..they do not exist in the dictionary of my life...my charts, readings recorded only measure the depth of my stupidity, my raging daredevil behaviour, my tendency to jump without thinking...and each bruise on my heart , each scar..is a permanent reminder...



stellar fireflies light patterns that i am to follow, as dusk falls and envelopes me in its security...the west wind blows, the seclusion almost chilling...yet, it is comforting to know..that the afterlife will be just as lonely as my painting of the path i have created for myself




like a whirling dervish, i streak across the silver sands strewn into the horizon

i twirl and turn and spin, against the wind, almost as if trying to exorcise the pain, in desperate attempt to exhume the devil infused in my soul.... trying to shed the acid dipped leaves that create this restlessness in my mind...


...i fall to my knees in defeat...

...the pain becomes too much, the blazing sun makes my grey sands burn my knees as i fall on them, agony burning red hot streaking right through my very being...

like the tears of the pheonix, my pearly drops soothe my wounds for little while, and i drag myself up, and start over....

...if only to hold on to my peace of mind...




...but i hear a tinkle in the still of the lonely desert...

a crack....a smattering of shattered glass...and i realise it is my heart that is breaking...

the dam over flows, and i weep tears i have held back , swallowed, and downed..



unconsciousness blissfully takes over....and the setting sun leaves my sillhouette aglow, the wind carresses my cheeks....the picture dims into blackness...and i am alone...

the sands shift...but my form lies still...



...i am no more

bee
10th jan, 07
2:30 am.
the morning hath only just started

Reviews

[alan peter kelly]

your self awareness is both an admirable revelation and a sad indictment on how we humans can mistreat oureselves...as if life isn't traumatic enough with others doing it too...you are way way more than the tragedy of no more...the allteration / simile and sweeping turn of phrase are spectacular to the overall impression of this being a profound and inspiritory write...