Tier I: Ignorance; the quiet party

I feel almost like a sapling from this angle. A dark fern amongst the gem-eyed lilies of this terrible forest.

Not, well, terrible in a sort of malicious, evil-sounding way, no. 

no, No.

the forest, by all means, is terribly beautiful. 

I peek through the patterned leaves, and up into the infinite cosmos.

Where 

am I in 

this world?

What is 

the point of this

reality?

The sky gazes back.

Aren't you supposed to know? it seems to whisper 

The beginnings of a thought shudders weakly at the edges of my mind

observations i have made in the meantime: 

Periwinkle canvas

The ever-expanding constellation

enters: the perfume of midnight

it wafts through the dream in slow purple spirals 

Pricks of chestnuts and berries 

play tricks on my senses. 

"I do know... Could you tell me anyway? " 

.

But the sky above stays silent and hovering as if in thought; there is a stillness in their response.

I turn to the nearest tree, wary now. of the sinking feeling of being watched from afar

*Atlas - The Sky Bearer. A titan who has to bear the weight of the sky on his shoulders   

* * *

Tier II: The Underbush; the party

I brush through the clearing of glass, the caring moon providing me a spotlight for my worries. He extends a hand; the pristine prince and his ever-flowing gown of white. My feet, finding moonlight, settles into step with him. We dance in a lazy arc, across the blue shimmer of dreams and veiled mysteries.

No one knows me here.

were my thoughts,

as the prince guides me through the umbrella forest.

Queer prince, his eyes filled with space. His woollen hair hides stars that I pick when it falls.

Birds watch us, then rabbits and ferns. We increase the pace, laughing despite ourselves. 

Oh, a prince, I think delightedly. But a lamb, he still is. The softness behind his grin, enough to break hammered wood.

Will he stay long enough, to see the coffin's contents.; cesspool of hurt that his grace will easily clear?

But it is reaching dawn now, I realize.
Against the sorrow, I still see what once was
We were: A darling pair.
Before he eventually wakes up, on the other side of the world.

Queer prince, with the space in his eyes, and it warbles when he inquires of my thoughts and feelings.

I understand. He has to make his rounds.

We clasp hands, his white claws feel smooth beneath my palm. I feel his heartbeat, pulsing.

We detach, exchanging a friendly bow. No feelings harmed, twas simply a night of fun.

He glances back, and I smile. He leaves, and an eternity passes by us steadily.

Not even the moon knows me. And we have danced every night.

And it is off my shoulders if he will even ever.

* * *

Tier III: Stroke of Storms; the afterparty

There is inner weather in all of us.

And I could taste it. Rainwind on my tongue, cold and splattering as the wail and whine of hinges bang open and close, shaking the clouds while stars drop and loosen from the ceiling. A torrential rain rivets my heart and follows me wherever i go. among blue-grass mounds and fields struck open by old rocky giants that had crashed into earth not long ago.

I brood alone by the waters. A poet of this world and from out of it. 

July came like a lightning, whizzing through the air before sound could ever mark it. And ever since the first crack, it had been so silent.

A rainy cloud in space-time.

Its vapor consumes me as I inhale it
Tasty wind,

frothy and real

gasping, i could never get enough.

Tasty smoke

wispy and white.

I cough out and sputter, but I could not resist.

The scent of the midnight's air is like opium, stretching through my lungs and enthralling me with every flavor. Caught in the tendrils of enchantment, I follow lamely

Drunken bee fattened off its narcotic craze.

Never was I gluttonous
Frugal with my savings.

But all is one and the same under the storm.

Suspension. I could not get enough of this.

fresh and cool.
thin yet thick,

I inhale once more in hopes to understand

the cost of freedom

at the lack of discernment

11/11/24
12:19 AM 
Classes got suspended