Meditation
majesty
absence
cacophony
Meditation
10:38 PM
i fall asleep
too easy;
close my eyes
craving
the chance to bask
in your majesty
and open them in some
strange world
where agony
and loathing
run amok
along weakly-lit
backstreets
that smell of burning
candy floss
and the putrid scent
of stale
cigarette smoke.
in this place
i see no men corrupted
with the gift of
entitlement
from a patriarchal society,
not a single woman
pulling the sleeves of her
worn-in, worn out,
too loose, too faded
cardigans
in hopes it shrinks
in seconds
and takes her
aching body —
worn-in, worn out,
too loose, too faded —
with it.
this kingdom reveals
secrets yet untold
to the world
and hides within its
absence of sweetness
the back-of-the-tongue bitterness
of too-stoned revelations
that guide the royal army
and make up the
improvised declaration of self love
and liberty.
i stand inside this strange world
and recognize love
so deep
i find myself weeping
as i struggle along cobbled streets
and locked doors
of homes i can
smell from some distant part
of my childhood
toward it;
joy so rich
it creeps along my
esophagus,
as slow as my dad’s bees
in the chilled winter sun,
to coat my lungs and
suffocate me;
longing so intense
my feet ache
and itch
to change paths —
nothing, not even unbridled love,
feels like more of a
priority
than reaching the point
of this city
my soul demands to be near;
sorrow so unencumbered
it runs along my veins
and curls ghoulish hands
through my hair
in a twisted and depressing
show of affection
that makes me nauseous
and leaves my head
aching behind
my leaking eyes.
this cacophony of emotions,
this overwhelming
overabundance of obsidian-black,
orchid-ridden, and obsessive
notions, bombards me
ruthlessly as i crumble
to my knees
at this city’s center,
bone dead exhausted
and tears bone dry
while my skeleton rearranges
itself into something
i can recognize
with my new eyes.
4:24 AM
i haven’t slept.
Copyright © Ema Kenyon | Year Posted 2017
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