Synapse Trigger

I’m writing to the spread of roses in my chest, the coronary dreams of blue science and pulsated veins. There was no way to describe how I had come, dark rivers untraveled and my life a cobblestone path, but I remember the mornings that fell, sleek seals on my forehead and nothing in my words, no fire nor punch. There existed only a silence that sat in silence, fermented slants of rays; rain, a bus ride, words from another time when words were not scarce and the meanings in the dirt more than scratches. Playing with words, I hear a voice and I pause, uncertain of where it’s going, where it was… I have become hesitant of smiles.

Then you cough, I bled. The momentum from the fountain pen lost in awkward cycles because I knew there was no more life in them, only halted steps littering the floor and I’ve swept away all the footsteps into a box set aside for rainy days. It never rains here I say but I think of the moon and the ocean, the causes of madness knocking at my door… and who can open the wisdom from the skies I’ve fallen from, the many-layered heaven before this hell? On a sunset, a gull catches a southern swell and suddenly becomes a chimera of contentment, elusive chameleon on this western isle of solitude, far out desolation in these words that were destined to fly; to fly and to speak nothing of the stars. It was only a bird then, flapping wings.

Another day passes, another way without you. I lie on my back and listen to the roar of somnabulant pens. There they go marching across the page and how do I know when to stop them, afraid that they might die upon waking, without memory in a different life, in a world without dreams? There’s nothing to say tonight but the slick tongues are in their quiet corners and they say I have glass heart, a transparent and fragile delivery. I tell them it’s made of lead and it weighs heavily in my chest, made to withstand falls because my mind was weak and could not hold it tight. Here in the depths of coldness, you weigh my heart and tell me it could have been gold.

That I could have learned to love.

[Original Post Date: 10/24/2002]

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