Walking through life, I'm falling hard and fast.
Yet I still stand on the firmaments of my own devices.
Hitting the cold pavement, my being inflamed.
The cries. "Forget us, send us to our demises."
Yet I still stand without a worthy scratch, or the markings of an undesirable.
My heart is presently weak as it pumps its blood of my passion.
Though I still stand, I'm fading into the incurable,
and my lips reach for words at my throat, forever raking.
Taking necrotic breaths, I heave endlessly in limbo for the end.
I manage and muster until my final acuity is uttered meticulously.
"Live for...." Like water through a marsh, I fall through the ethereal purgatory.
Floating there in the emptiness of my final layover, a flash of light cutting through me.
'Time to go home?” But nothing happens until the end.
Ancient, holy, free, sacred, shamballa, heaven, nirvana? Valhalla is a cruel hyperbole.
Fading away, I can't fall hard and fast. I never had the luxury.
What celestial sphere? Where? Nothing. Nowhere. Never.
No cries nor demise had ever happened, evil was never wrong.
A heart never held passion, impossibility was a choice.
Word was not of thought. Thought was not of reality.
Open your eyes and wake up. This nightmare was never your dream.
Staring at the acoustic, "Live for...?"
About the Creator
Dae Gaston
Dae Gaston is a writer, entrepreneur, and activist based out of New Hampshire.
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Silence
I don’t remember the day the world ended. But I do remember the day I noticed. That photo was it, but I did not know what it meant until I sat in my darkened bathroom, staring at the newly developed film. The street was neither empty, nor abandoned. It was dead. The colours of the flowers wrapped in that red ribbon caught my eye, and as I crouched to take that photo, I could hear only the lonely silence of a graveyard after dark.
By Alexander McEvoy6 days ago in Fiction
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