Waiting Room

Waiting Room

A piece that fits no puzzle. The snag in the tapestry.

Repetitious and futile.

In a pit of vipers you kiss and caress as they sink their teeth into your flesh and rip away chunk after chunk.

Don’t forget the heart.

Take it

That’s the sweetest honey.

Savour the searing venom and exhale in fierce euphoria as it hacks its way through your whittled veins with a rusty machete.

I deserve this.

Hurts so good.

I love you.

All is necessary, all is perfect.

On the outside, looking in.

When is it my turn.

Why am I here.

I know, I know.

I hate this so much.

Stop it.

The unrelenting exhaustion.

Sing a sweet song of serenity, little bird. Flutter and fly.

Where is your voice? Where are your wings?

You are no bird, why did you lie?

Sit tight, tap your shoes, drum your fingers.

Next. Next. Next.

This is not for you, nor this, or this or this.

Watch though, incessantly.

Let us staple those lids to your brow until your eyes are gnawed and dry.

Stay a safe distance from embers but close enough to brand you.

There they are, on the other side.

Beautifully disfigured, delicately grotesque.

I love them, I love them.

Gaze as they enchant you.

Yearn as they beckon.

They want you, you’re wanted.

You’re loved.

They’re taunting, mocking, laughing.

No they don’t, no they don’t.

Got you, fooled you, tricked you.

Oh no! You’ve been sliced in two!

It was hard enough to love the one.

Truth is, I like this colour.

This shade of everything.

The way it's neither smoke nor liquid on my tongue.

And the way my heart sings to the song without knowing the tune.

Dances without knowing the rhythm.

Rise up, little bird there’s a storm on the horizon. It’s been brewing in the skies and rumbling under the tiles.

Surging, pulsating, I’m terrified are you?

Quieten down, it’s too mighty and she’s too meek.

Is that a wall? It’s so tall, so deep and so wide!

Here, let me help you, I’ll give you a chisel, I’ll leave it just out of your reach.

The cocoon you crafted became your casket, but wait, did I leave the oven on?

Do thoughts make a sound? If so you'd hear screaming.

In this quiet room, can no one hear the deafening cries from inside?

Maybe it can't be heard with ears and this sound is for the soul.

Can you feel the vibrations? From my heart to yours...

No, me neither.

In the dark room of my soul, monsters are being developed

But don't we all go bump in the night to someone.

And yet the epitome of salvation for another.

Head spinning in the duality, trying to find balance in unity.

I am you, you are me. We are God.

And the throe of sempiternity when the purpose is in the waiting.

Ticket edge so sharp it’s pooling blood into my palm.

Palpable.

You chose her for this role. You picked her to play the part.

She didn’t ask for this.

Let her take the stage in ferocity she was selected for.

In the frequent intermissions pick up her hand, give it a gentle squeeze and brush the wetness from her cheek.

Keep going.

It’s not your fault Matt Daemon. It’s not your fault.