We are not sitting here because of normality or some sort of safety protocol that hasn’t been followed.
No this is for a man happily drowning as his mind betrays every common direction of sanity. The rivers washing through his sub conscious deposit sands of time on his pillow. Outside the water continued to rise, but he didn’t move a muscle.
After eating his crow at sunup, he brushes his teeth, although he could barely function to eat. That blood and bone couldn’t make his stomach turn like when he gazed into mirror his hazel eyes locked onto a reflection, barely recognizable. WASH. RINSE REPEAT
‘Who am I?’
Exhausted was an understatement, but he was growing even more tired of the same entities haunting his nocturnal life, at least this time he didn’t see her face. That still wouldn’t hurt as bad as the feeling of uncertainty in regards of his mental fortitude. It wasn’t a breakup that killed him. Hell, he had plenty of women and she was just another fling; but ever since the day he broke her spirit, nothing had been the same. It felt like a lingering force there one minute: gone the next. Maybe he was crazy
‘What the fuck does it matter anyway?’
A theory that that crept through his mind many nights since, nothing was the same. Goddamn fog is to thick paranoia held his mind hostage, utterly insane.
No calls, no text, nothing. This alone that seemed like a life sentence. Solitude seemed to be the only answer, almost heroic is what it seemed to be. Then it came.. more questions rolling through his mind like the fucking speed of light.
“What on Earth could solitude possibly solve? Is it always so melancholic?
“Are these creatures of iniquity supposed to come out of the woodwork in the wee hours of the night, only to pick anxious bones clean?”
They came in droves…. punch drunk on my flesh. The pain was unimaginable as they commenced ripping the fabrics of his soul reaching pieces unknown. Until morning light broke. By then he was nothing more than a carved-out memory, still warm as a day lily pressed into the old pages of a forgotten bible.
You see the illusions of the world around him began to fade as the eastern sun reared its ugly head slinging. Prussia blue, ruby reds, the brightest orange, oblique. These weren’t for his eyes, there was nothing lovely about it. It didn’t beckon him closer in hopes of sharing with another.
Under the light of the full moon his absolved blood soaks the rivers, a debt unsettled. Something far more sinister than the road he left untraveled…”
Quarantine be like dancing around in underwear and singing the must stupid songs I ever listened to
¡Cuánto subestimamos el contacto físico con quienes amamos!
A veces un abrazo, un beso, o tan solo un apretón de manos bastan para mejorar nuestro día, para darnos fuerzas y esperanza. ¡Qué lástima que tuvimos que carecer de ello para saberlo apreciar!
Now That I am Home.-A letter to my peers.
Euripides, from “Orestes”, An Oresteia (trans. Anne Carson)
The isolation is wild. It’s as if all those things you were supposed to deal withare coming to a head. You’re faced with all these demons, staring at you, waiting to embrace or be vanquished by you. A warm embrace would mean all the world right now. Your world is collapsing all around you, but there’s someone you’d rather spend these end times with
I love being in love so much. I love how calm I can get when I feel your smell, I love how everything stops when you hug me, I love your warmth when you’re next to me. And I love smiling at your excitement, at the way it makes you so you. I love not caring about sleep, not caring about the things I have to do when you’re here. I love when you give me the idea that you’re there for me, and knowing I can knock on your door when things get wrong (although I never do it). I love knowing you, I love knowing what you’re thinking, knowing how you’re feeling, knowing how your day is going. I love thinking of you whenever I see something you might like, or something that reminds me of your. I love our bickering, and the way we sometimes read each other’s minds, and all our inside jokes and our playful teasing and pushing and tickling. I love just being with you and the prospect of being with you. I love the way I feel when you’re around and I even love that I feel empty when you leave. I love saying your name and blushing, I love not being able to take my eyes off your lips, I love remembering every moment we spent together. I love being in love with you. I just wish it didn’t hurt this much that you can’t think of me the way I think of you.
God has cursed me to see what life should be like…
Sometimes I wish that i-
was far away from myself.
With a different name, different skin,
and different cells.
I knew i was wrong this whole entire time,
a small piece of me wanted to be right though
A small piece of me wanted you to feel the same things i was feeling
Instead, it’s only me and i am the fool that misunderstood it all
How didn’t i know that I’d never be good enough for any of that?
How did i not know that this is just like any other time?
Sami Baydar, tr. by Maggie Dubris, from “Virgin Rivers,” featured in Eda: An Anthology of Contemporary Turkish Poetry