This is a poem based off of this project on HitRecord: https://hitrecord.org/projects/4065979
The air is clear here.
It rustles through the trees
and lifts the puffy clouds
that spend their time
circling the sky-
no city smog
no angry horns or shouts-
just the endless horizon
and a long awaited dream.
How do you describe it?
I asked this of myself,
regarding a feeling I have no words for
The closest I can think of is absence
Not in my hands, through my eyes,
or on my mind
everything falls free
that lets everything slip out
your head and your heart are full
with memories and faces, words and hopes and dreams
but when you sit down to write
or call a friend to talk
your mouth and your fingers
Classical music wafts in the background,
a low, tinkling sound that melds with the rattle of the radiators.
The dishes are piled up, needing to be washed,
the laundry hangs from miscellaneous light fixtures as it dries,
and the crumbs from dinner are spread across the couch.
But I will sit,
and try to enjoy this cup of coffee.
Perhaps I will figure out
how to tread water in this melancholy
I will drown in it.
What is that feeling
the one that sits in the middle of your chest
and threatens to encompass your entire being
while dribbling down into your gut
like sewage infecting pure water
the one that ends up pooling in your feet
making them too heavy
to pick up off the floor
the feeling that swirls up like cigarette smoke
making your throat dry and ragged
and filling up your head with a fog
that tastes like ash
What is that feeling?
A cat with dull orange fur and white feet
lays sleeping on a chair that once belonged to my mother
The morning breeze
softly taps a dying tree branch against the window
and the rusty bathroom sink
drips out a steady heartbeat
Blinking into white sunlight
purple flowers with alabaster edges
gleam up at the sun
It’s so bright it hurts
and the smell of yesterday’s trash
seeps into my skin