The boy opens the hatch on his chest.
Like a broken dam
His silhouettes cascade onto the brilliant afternoon.
The boy sees fence posts
Extending a greeting of agony
To the infinitude of imperfection.
Oceans of grass ignore the sentiment;
Painting envy
Across plains of infinity
Around the stillness of every twisted moment.
Like a caution
Hollered from peaks of rolling hills.
The boy hears the wars
Behind the closed doors of voices;
In the balcony above rhetoric.
Windows are closed
The latches are turned;
Subversive whispers
Echo off the panes.
The Earth leans forward over the void.
Gripping handrails,
Tracking the shadows of mysteries.
The boy feels the suicides
Creeping across the mirror
In morning hours.
The hands of the clock
Still like fence posts
While bed sheets crumple
To conceal the ashes of the boy's shadow.
Waves bludgeon the rocky fringes of hometowns.
Like the discordant emotions
Shredding bodies on precarious cliffs.
The boy watches sanity
Slip away from fingertips
Space and time evacuate in twilight.
The ocean of the mind;
Unexplored, abysmal,
Tragic waters that stir
Beyond the sky's green hands.
Stars fade and planets die.
Evaporating along
A staircase of impossible depths.
The boy dreams of misery and rancour
Hallways gape with unending solitude
Lined with one hundred towering faces
Opening like doors.
A collection of keys,
Skeletons and octaves,
None that will fit the lock.
~ Only listen.
Love,
Digress.
