Room 402
these footprints and this thread we leave there... something that we would unroll to guide ourselves. just like when I stopped the car on the side of the road to see the dragonflies flying in a straight line, but I didn't once question why they fly towards the sea, even though it's so logical to ask.
if each chapter ends like this before the end... like these certainties that we have almost complete, like these irrefutable but foolishly uncertain truths... I know there's no way back inside our department store, impossible to go back upstairs in the stock sector only to find and retell those colorful pieces that seemed to be the charming answers that today confuse what we think we are.
(or was it just our young eyes, our curious and inexperienced gaze, and would it be permissible or decent to imagine happiness as something full of colors, having no idea how we would wound to death the naive monster made up of desires we inadvertently created?)
now the dark creature that inhabits us has stripped off its fantasy of simple rebellion and rises and struggles in agony, it rants and roars, it thrashes and resists dying. but no streams of light that we imagine we have created to illuminate or drown that unrestrained wrath, flow brightly into the barren and dry today.
Copyright © Marco Chies | Year Posted 2022
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