Oblivion

not really a poem but yeah

The air rushing past my face, the debris lacerating my cheeks oh so subtly, and my lungs screaming for sweet, sweet oxygen makes me open my eyes for the first time. The pressure of the fall makes each breath a painful torture, ironically keeping me conscious. I’ve seen those slow-motion falls in the movies one too many times; graceful, calm, and slow music playing in the background. This couldn’t be any more different. This is hell.

All around me the world is changing, blasting itself into tiny crystal shards then reforming, my friends and dear ones disappearing with it. How I wish I could follow them into those timeless shards, to be immortalized with them forever in these crystalline structures and change eternally with the breeze, but it is not the case. I am Calypso, forced to watch idly by from my little desert island as life fades to memory and memory is soon gone with the wind. The breeze brings a soothing voice that whispers to me from those ageless stones, “Remember us”. Time is but a demon in my eyes.

Wasn’t it just yesterday that I was in Kindergarten, constructing little towers on the beach without a care in the world? My impenetrable sand fortress stood against the tide, and kept my mind safe inside. Pounding after pounding the kingdom withstood, with me reinforcing the walls after every wave. I began to notice, though, how the water-sodden walls slouched. The shells that decorated the outside were pulled away into the depths of the ocean, never to be seen again. They were yearning to become one with the sea again, so that I may begin anew. I was invincible… for the time being. Alas, castles made of sand melt into the sea… eventually.

As school life loomed ahead I was still stuck to my olds ways, astounded at everyone else’s’ ability to change with the times. Out with the blocks and in with the books. I was alone in my resistance to change, it would seem. As my world began to once again fall piece by piece, I looked desperately for someone, something to cling on to; someone, something, anything that could keep me from the horrendous, inevitable limbo for a second longer. I looked to my friends; they have already eagerly accepted their fate. I looked to my family; there’s nothing there. Alone, I struggled and fought with all that remained. All in vain. My last haven slowly succumbed to the sands of time. Hand void of anything, my free-fall began again. And as sure as I am that I will soon find another ledge to grasp onto and stop my free-fall, I am sure that a new schism shall see it gone and I will find myself plummeting once again into the eternal void of my mind. How could life be so cruel to this one, punishing it in a cycle that never ends? I see a tunnel with no light and nothing I can do will halt the train, even for a moment, for me to catch my breath, to adapt. Such is the way of things, I guess.

Author's Note

Please review this!! Need as much feedback as possible!

Reviews

[Ufi Auttorri ~ Amy C. T..]

You are... reincarnated | older than your mug shot | simply have a good head on your shoulders | all of this. There are many different kinds of feedback. What kind of feedback are you looking for? How much can you stomach? This line caught my eye, "...castles made of sand melt into the sea… eventually. " Are you aware that's a snippet of lyric from a Jimmy Hendrix song?

Regarding "the way of thing" ... read this piece, if you please.
http://www.writerscafe.org/writing/ufoauthor/1034738/

I find this writing, fluid, lucid, compelling, and engaging. In the movie, The Matrix, there is a line (why do we speak in movies), "The spoon does not bend; only your mind."

Again, grading on the curve... 98 = A.

[Kristin]

Thanks! I'm not exactly sure what you mean when you say grading on the curve though?

[Ufi Auttorri ~ Amy C. T. Serrat]

Ah, that's a sort of "tell" you know. It indicates a sort of unnecessary confusion/concern, perhaps. Everyone, every mind, works as a differencing engine. By that I mean we all make distinctions between things. In this case, we're talking about your writing. By "grading on the curve" I mean that I am comparing it to similar writing from similar minds at similar stages of development. I do not say that to seem superior or inferior to you but indicate that I am trying to gauge your writing by comparison. As you write more the sample size grows and the breadth and depth of your intellect and writing will become more well-defined for your readers. This is a good thing; both for you and your readers. I assume you want people to read what you write and that you want to communicate with other writers. If not, then you're here to emote; and that's OK too. It helps your readers if you fill out your profile page with things you think are relevant for them to better understand you, why you're here, what expectations you might have, etc.. Hope that helps. :)

[Kristin]

Yeah that's a good explanation! Thank you!

[Keith LaFountaine]

There is a lot of great exposition here. I love it; the lack of dialogue really helps keep me in the story. I also love your descriptive language. You have pretty good pacing as well. Overall, good work!

[kublakhan27]

Time is but a demon in my eyes...that line pulled it all together for me here...it's like a recurring nightmare, a wave of despair that you know is coming but am powerless to stop it...I can feel the sadness and resignation in this piece, and I know it's not a fun place because I've been there, in the midst of some of these very scenes...this is a riveting piece of prose, and it tells me you have a gift for storytelling...great work Kristin :)

[Tai Ryens]

Not really a poem? Ha! 'Tis quite fitting as prose poetry, of which I enjoy the most. I can feel your exhaustion, chasing for a goal that cannot be achieved nor discovered..