2:47 by Alanoud Zouman

Posted on October 4, 2013 by

0


I can feel the grass beneath me because it tickles my hands when I lay them on the ground.

I can see the starry sky above me because when I allow my mind to wander it seems a dark sheet with polka dots.

I can still taste the melted chocolate bars on my tongue.

 

I wish upon this night, at this hour of 2:47 to be saved.

Save me from an uneventful, dull, dreaded life.

 

Seconds fall into each other in trust falls and I hope I am not one to betray my time.

Minutes pass with hums of song and wishful thinking.

Hours collapse in pieces of failed, ephemeral escapism.

The days swallow me up, slowly, but surely as quicksand and I fear fighting it.

 

An open letter to my days,

 

Don’t swallow me up.

 

Sincerely,

Me.

 

 

Days and months add up to a feeling of strange need.

I need to…

Get out of here?

I need to…

Breathe?

I need to…

Perhaps go to Paris or maybe I just want to be engulfed in the fresh feeling of new interactions made.

 

On this night

At 2:47

I pray to whoever will be listening,

Lead me into a life of traveling.

 

I beg of you, turn me into your most favored traveler. Speak of me as a wanderer and watch what might become me.

 

 

Turn my life into the definition of helter-sketler if it pleases you but don’t keep me wishing upon hours beneath starry skies.

 

Months blend into each other to form blurred story lines and I confess, it terrifies me to think of when my years will finally be subdued.

 

Within this poets hour I confess,

I am terrified.

 

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