Dust Had Gathered

dust had gathered on her many memories in outlines and heaps had sheltered her from full on attacks of pain and self lacerations the broom with razors attached right next to the end of the stick inside lay a mind full of fantasy promise intelligence and feelings reason and emotions severed and dressed in a veil of starkness a cover up with contradictory voices all pulling the similar strings like an untuned base guitar covered in cobwebs of indelible grime she resembled a masterpiece torn to bits by conductor and audience a triangle of unequal proportions sounding a cacophony of oblivion coda on autopilot and the rupture in her vinyl reached far into the past crack filler had served its do and the speakers were on full volume although the splintered cables weaved intermittent silence with noise she had reached the point to face demons ghosts and misperceptions the mascara applied in vast measures onto her record needed review with her mask ill prepared for the carnival of delusion and blindfolds a straw stuck out from the plaster mold hollowed by temptation to let be what could not be recovered with self-soothing repression but her life had been a pressure cooker hooked up to a suicide vest self-help books medication talking therapies and psychodynamics had left her stagnant and corrosively entropic while exodus loomed she was sick of ‘how does that make you feel’ to sit with the hurt a poet of un-hailed distinction it seemed rather ironic and cynical that she failed to express what was there or not appeared to be thus she prepared herself for flood gates locks weirs and cascades unusual circumstances demanded novel solutions for exposition of all the smut soot and drench that had buried a fire in ashes and it was her psychiatrist who advised a psychedelic journey ‘I need a mushroom cloud to reset my focus and reason to feel’ a kick start for cognitive challenge and defense mechanisms fuse trigger and chemical rewiring with mother nature’s help Gaia might look upon kindly when she ingested the fungus she told her lover of her decision and left him in the doldrums his own ship had sailed smoothly despite boredom and routine a bit dull from legal psychotropics but functioning to a degree her request left him with three options a pitch work of sorts take the stuff and embark together or refuse to join the cruse watch from the sidelines and be a vessel of bouncing reflection he was in at least three minds and dug deep into his convictions maybe he would decide on impulse or one could say intuition because it was his voyage just the same that held them together where was the line that distinguished one from the fellow other love was unconditional once gratefully surrendered to kindness and so this poem is a work in progress and part two is unwritten ... 29th July 2020