SECONDS OF LIGHT
This new sight and another one. You can’t be expected to compile the truth. We the people of the text are beginning to watch our arms and legs fade away. New sight in horror concerning Ogonogroms. I have opened the book and been laced away. There is really no telling where this goes from here. If you never hear from me again, just know it was probably because I picked up this dime novel from the used bin at the Jewely Mart.
Heaven’s in circulation full of foreign angels. I don’t know a single one. Maybe, though, mine is still a guardian watching over me. Maybe though mine knows. This last paranoid act I have within me to pretend I am not being watched by God all the time, and to not know. Oh the self-importance of the greedy soul. Deck yourself you send-it. I know not how to beat my reflection any better. I stare into the pupils it offers me getting close. It knows I am just nanoseconds of light from a distinct shift away. To blink and have my eyes still open in the mirror, just a little, though it’s godspeed.
I proffered my plate and asked for seconds of light. The heaping angel before me in the lunchlady garb looked down and said “I don’t know.” Am I going crazy, or should I continue? And a tired way about the nonthings I pretended rendered the sky a freeze as well. And a tired way about myself as well. And I did not know. The followings were all meditations in leaves. Their authors never spoken for but one was me, and all were my person. I come up with a flagrant notion I’m alive. I pretend I’ve spied the truth on the page.
In the nanosecond brief lick of the razor’s edge I commit to breathe my blood back in because I am not crazy. And your heart cannot understand. The hollow heart waking splits a pill and takes the half still in his hand. The Agent capitalized taking a stroll in his own mind on a lunchbreak finds me sleeping on a bench and gets upset.
What do you want from me now? I ask him.
Nothing, he says. I am only mad you’re not waking.
Sit descended on your oval hands. Wait until the frog in your throat has to ribbit. All this advice was to lock me and pan. I deceived myself to think I could manage. I wound up being a person on a page.
Still, you think of me sometimes. Still, you dream I am not the ghost walking through the walls at night not at rest not at peace with the life I had lived before all hell’s fires caught. I do not want to go down there anymore. I cannot understand. But that is a lie I have reckoned with.
There is so much strength in your power, said the open hand. Offering itself to mine. I was not going to speak unless spoken to. In the end all that was wore down unable and I pretended opened mind was ticketing bishops for moving horizontally on a chess board. In the end I pretended opened mind could not taste the color of the light when it could. I was looking at the world and savoring flavors.
Beyond, too, this meditation, I have offered up my hands to hold. I have given up my life for one that is higher in power and does actually understand. I have given up my life to the Reason. Telling hell’s gargoylesque devils to hoof it if they don’t want to be frozen by satan’s tears, in the shadow of the light.
I beckoned back to the bridge where I came from because I did not understand. And I did not want to scare you with how very little my words made sense. If they were a reflection of my mind, oh I wonder. If anything was a reflection of anything, what would it look like?
Tell me again where I’m coming from, Jesus. I don’t have any answers to ward the night. I might wait a year and relapse if nothing is better. I might wait a year and try to waste my life. This too I am scared of that it has become such a night. I am awake, I am alive alive, I am here and I will not think twice.
Comb my palm with the pads of your fingers. Up my arm. Bring me back again. I do not want to disappear. I am afraid sometimes.
Blue-blue-blue blue eyes look through me because they’re gray, and I have nothing to say but what I’ve said already. I have nothing to read but the book. I am awake still and have no reason. Except that I cannot sleep right now. I am afraid to be dreaming again.