Light/Yet by D

Posted on May 11, 2014 by


On Sundays, I wear sweatpants, and a pitch black shirt, and swig dark coffee like a Redneck to match my insides
The days of the rest of the week are identical; I cannot remember a time of difference
My mind is either disturbing reticence or the nighttime sky screaming at 3 AM
My body does not know gray,
it sways between shades of black and white, or sheer static
like a vintage TV set thrown out on the curb,
out of place with its surroundings
I am bewildered and irresolute, a sunflower field in the dead of the night
The wallflowers will whisper
You understand what is inside of us more than we understand what is inside of us;
We understand what is around you more than you, yourself, do and
Flowers are proof that God needs art sometimes

God needs to let things out sometimes
But when the sky becomes a backdrop of heavy, black cloth and nothingness
Does He drink himself numb to forget how lonesome He feels?
My lover and I stumbled across one another in the dark
I sought pulsing city lights on her insides like fireflies smothering the darkness
We would camp out in the backseat of my car on a highway slowly falling asleep
When she mouthed poetry, my beaten lungs begged to breathe
All my whole knew of self-loathe fell
When she left, I felt all kinds of stillness
When you are in the dark for long enough, it begins to consume you;
I’ve read somewhere
If you turn of all the lights in your bedroom, eventually your eyes will adjust to the dark and you’ll see again
When the power cut itself off in our building, my pupils were not alarmed,
Even hour after it turned itself back on, my pupils did not constrict
So much is disintegrating

This evening, my spine buckled itself into the architecture of a weeping willow as the lights began flickering in my apartment;
She is the lone light my sunflower-being ached to sift towards and my eyes do not want to adjust to the nighttime just yet.

Posted in: Light/Yet