I wonder if life will implode one day,
And I will find myself lost in a forest,
or firmly placed,
in a garden of iridescent skies.

In this trance of realisation,
I will a supernova,
For we have been nascent,
(Or is morbid more befitting?)
Long enough!

Set in motion,
an attack of experience,
So if death was to come or not,
It would all be the same.

They were dark times. With everything I did, I was more and more hesitant. Unsure of myself and of all that around me. In conundrums, and strangled with confusion.  Wary of the past, and unaware of the future.

There was so much I had left behind, a myriad of my happiest memories. Only to now be surrounded by thickets of black. And as I curled up around it (the black) , lungs corrupted and eyes sore, it took a turn. And lo, it wrapped itself around me.

I was, at first surprised. At the comfort this monster bestowed upon me. For it was beyond my comprehension, it’s will to parent me. Only as I let out my first cry, did it all become clear. What had seemed as protection, transformed into an awesome attack. It gnawed into me, strengthening itself at every scream.

Amongst heavy cries, I struggled to find my breadth. I was victim to bouts of unrestricted rage. Clenched fists, furious stares.  It devoured my every moment of weakness.

 It took a while for me to figure out that I was the fuel to its fire. With this realization however, I quieted down.  And it, in return was kind enough to let go and return to its former state as the selfless provider.

Hello? Are you out there? I don't feel you. I don't hear you, I don't see you. So how do I know? You're that tingling at the end of my fingers, the tingle that knows magic. You're the rage in my clenched fists. You're the warmth of my embrace. At least you were. 

Of all the things I've lost, I have lost you the most. Hi. Let's start over. I'm sorry, okay? Perhaps I came on strong before. Now I breathe, unhurried. Clenched fists open up, and now I am. I am..

I am a body. I have emotions. I can think. But do you know what? Fuck this. All I want to do is jump on you and hold your head and stare into your eyes. The angry stare. And then scream like a mad man. And then laugh. And put this all behind us. And, and. 

Or maybe I want to watch you, crinkle up your nose and make a stupid face. And then I want to hold your hand. Walk with you down that road, take a left, stop you from crossing the road. And stop that car that hit you. So we could have taken that other left, and been lost in each other.

Why are we not moving any more?

On this road,
I'm without reason for pace or morbidity,
For the end of all is ubiquitous.

I stare upon the soil,
Which may be my friend,
And will it to partner with the wind,
And so, live on.

In awesome form,
For what good is life,
If it is masked in fear,
Inhibitions and etcetera?

Stop for the rose,
before it is swallowed by
The monster
Which is death.

I find a wall, painted black.  And buried within these five hundred shades,  a yellow.  So, if I asked, could you imagine? Could you imagine my amazement, as I speculated upon this yellow?

Of the thousand eyes that have stood here. I wonder if they too, knew this yellow?  Or is it my secret? And lo, amazement once more!  A yellow, for me to see, and mine to keep!

Maybe you are amused by the size of this yellow. It is miniscule of course, a mere spec upon a massive structure. But may I, if you let me, just say. It is the sole warmth on so many seasons of winter.

I could drown myself in black, and find myself gasping for breath on the surface of this yellow. I wish to wander deeper into it. And as I go, will I find a reason for this contrast in colour? Is there a wonderland beneath the surface and the yellow, its invitation?

I have, over the past month frequented this wall. Not much has changed. It is as uninviting as it was yesterday. Just as harsh, just as cold. But to me, there are, upon five hundred yellows, a black.

For beyond the surface, I found you.