The one, the only, the one you leave. The last door on your right brain, shut. Do you carry it all back again? Who can know where the door goes once you close it?
Will it come back to you like a stray dog, sullen & hungry for scraps? Will it rock you down to the trundle bed beneath your fears? Will it will itself to you, once you die?
So tell me this one thing, if you can tell me nothing else: How does the sadness grow, how does it die & where does it go?
Relieve me one last time, let me void the bowels of the abyss. Emptiness is a heavy burden to bear.
How does the burden feel, burning in your stomach, aching through the ceiling, dripping into the wide fish mouths of niceties, always surprised and ready to swallow.
How lovely, the weight of your hand on my throat. How tender, the tone of your voice as you scream at me. How soft the ground feels on my cheeks, as you grind my face in time to the music.
I’ve lost the beat, finally. Moving out of time and into a new rhythm, though always looking behind me, lest the beat find me.
Slaves and strangers to our devices. How to draw the blood back up the drain, you ask?
One tendril to another, you must know how to pull gently, invisibly, without speaking.
To speak is to be shot down, to skip is to be laughed at, and to fall is to remove yourself from the equation.
Remember, happiness ruins everything. Don’t try to be happy, or you might die of disappointment.
© 2018 BAYTHINK.COM ALL RIGHTS RESERVED