A Game of Thorns - Collaboration With Maurice Yvonne
i heard a...what do they say...a spine chilling scream
...is that the saying?
a spine chilling scream
followed by
'he's dead, my G_d he's dead'
the phrase echoed
inside the whole of me
like tennis balls bouncing between two parallel walls
i ran up
aware i would be at the edge
where the road ends and the gates of heaven stand
saw a young man
looked through the aperture of his existence
looked and singed his eyelashes
looked and could not see beyond now
you know those beautiful fluffy white clouds
the kind that feel like large teddy bears that want to hug you
she had landed her very own- she cherished him
knew who he was
felt lucky they shared a mutual love
i can't imagine the despair
flowed through her when she saw him like that
his doughy complexion screamed volumes
breaking the thunderous silence
he was a pale grey, blank, empty
a sight impossible to process
at odds with how one survives
the experience of this tragedy
she was lost in a dreamless mare
[most of the time
life
its outcome depends on the flip of a coin
if you don't know that you don't understand
life
his coin landed on its side
...all the kings men and all the kings horses...]
her 'beautiful huge fluffy white cloud'
had succumbed to the storm
heart in throat
hesitantly
she touched him
he was a frigid cold
for a moment she saw her own smokey breath
moving as if she was walking
through the thick grains of unbearable pain
thoughts racing
she attempted to make sense of the senseless
despair had grabbed her by the throat
shook her around like so much thread and fabric
she thought he might of seen life as futile
society as a guise, as a failed paradigm
thought he had reached the last motel on the road to nowhere
and just...checked out
depression
the illness
it's unlike any other pain
when it peaks
few if any survive it
the afflicted instinctively self medicate
but street drugs are mean
she could easily empathize
she too was him
honestly she was tired of living in her sadness
a life marinated in tears basted in blood
the experience of having seen her partner
lose his life to drugs and alcohol
affected her profoundly
experiencing his death
was like getting hit over the head with a sledgehammer
she'd never wash it off
it clung to her like a pariah
you can't wake up from reality
and you can't sleep through it
the tragedy had possessed her sensibilities
it was a malignant truth she could not ratify
singular in its nature
unfathomable
she'd been blindfolded and spun
a ballerina on a high wire across the span of time
spiralling down an infinite vortex
one plus one is seven
the ceiling isn't a celestial painting
how many fingers
a forty ounce of vodka
opioids a hundred times stronger than heroin
men in uniforms
and
and
...lost...
what happened?
less than two hours ago
he could think- speak
he had his very own persona
now
lying there
as
nothing
it could have been her
it could have be anyone
but it wasn't
it was- Him
what did occur to her
was
the loss.
Copyright © Carol B. | Year Posted 2017
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