Poetry-Sickness

It is in the forests In the darkness Beneath the ancient tress Buried in the blackened soil It paints the teeth-like outlines Of the mountain peaks It’s scattered in the air It hovers high above the seas It is in the oceans In their divine sadness As the moonlight penetrates Everything that sleeps It flows in grains of sand Their coarseness Its lust for time's abyss It dwells within all cells And possesses all minds With innocent insanities It’s inside of us More innate than the blood we keep You can hear it It roars when all is silent A being with no face A monster with no boundaries

What would it be like A world without me Mountain tops withering Without me longing Blackened clouds weeping In their sacred rhythms Without me getting drenched What would the world be If I was not watching Winds haunting the seas Lashing them into madness Without me mesmerized By the churning waters What would my body be And where would thoughts come from Without me Judging their each thread And breeding them into Twisted anxieties What would taste feel like Without my experience What would colors be Without me naming them In such arbitrary fashion What would music mean And who would it speak to If I was to Switch off my selfness If I was to forget Trying to own existence

Through this sickness that is life Through the days when pain erupts Down my spine and into the strained muscles Your hair is like a waterfall Washing away all dirt from my lungs Your eyes Glitter and I wonder How many more night skies they will create Before I close mine for good And when my skin boils from the inside Full of poisons that I cannot see Your touch is like a blanket That envelops me gently Promising a new spring Again careless like the ones I remember From a long long time ago And though I wither more each day My bones cracking beneath the weight of the world Your smile sweeps it all away Like the wind that used to play with my senses As if time didn’t exist As if I was never to leave for the dark beyond