Dillon, In Colour

001

06/07/2023

It was with a beautiful stroke of optimism

That I captured faith through a broken looking glass.

It was then, amidst comfort and sin

That I sought absolute control.

And with trembling hands I raised them towards the sky

And pleaded to a soulless landscape

To be forgiven for all my misdirected ambitions

Well aware of the follies i had dragged on for long enough

I reflected on my season in hell

on this day

misery reveals laden truths that trickle down onto an emotionless face

and with a restless head i mull over

the affirmative words my father used to fill me up with

affirmative words that have since retired completely.

on this day

i remain motionless at a crossroads where opportunity races through

a place where i have become

a hollow unfamiliar shell

a vacant home where love used to fill its hallways.

on this day time will transition me into a new being

though my virtue has led me astray

i’d like to think that maybe things are supposed to be this way.

sedatives craved replace an everlasting plight

and my demeanor slowly bled out.

quiet thoughts like quiet walks back through the street

days of healing are days worth believing

at last the light has come

i dim the lights and watch our shadows play

all the rationale bleeds out

and desperate hands reach out

to maintain a hold of dismal woes.

it’s my sunken delight that reveals the perfect resting place for your heavenly figure...

was it the absence of logic or the way i forcibly sought a will to live?

because i don’t think i really love you.

free will won’t change the inherent selfishness we possess.

determined to live an agonizing life and to die a pretty death

if i could live without vices i would have the perfect life.

maybe my parents would love and understand me better

misery would have a different meaning

and happiness wouldn’t be so blurry...

if i could love myself i would have the perfect life.

maybe i wouldn’t have so many vices

my appearance wouldn’t hold so much weight

and sleeping alone wouldn’t feel so harsh...

i’ll close my mouth and let the drab sunny afternoons flush out

then i could arrive to my special evenings

filled with all my special vices

and at that moment

when it’s all spun out

today i framed an empty space

somewhere where you’d lie perfectly

and i could fill the rest.

trivial remain words and gestures

aimed for your consumption

and your harrowing words set in

you overwhelm my senses

manipulate my mannerisms

and leave me vulnerable with nothing to show for it.

my existence seems confined without your genius

you’re upsetting yet your beauty is kind

you’re the muse i will never hang up,

she chases my tongue

and i let her...

our hands come together and share worn out memories

a blank stare and sore lips

make confusion comfortable

no one speaks

no one listens

those important questions she had are left unanswered

morality is cloudy

happiness is dependent

our warmth feels distracting

an unhealthy obsession...

i chase after her tongue

nothing made and everything wasted

spaces are warped

and your bed loses all meaning

something paves the way

to a path that will soon be ripped apart

luck is finite

thin and brittle

moments pass at a glance

waiting for the next error

nothing gets made

and everything is lost

desolate remains a conscious

restrained by emotion

aching for relief.

seeking asylum from desperation

memories are repeatedly reminisced and subsequently destroyed,

unsuccessfully of course.

in due time memories fade

like possessions once held so dear.

myths and untruths can’t burry

what you remember fondly

the lies you tell yourself could never take away what you really experienced

although this fact weighs heavy

i still hope one day to forget

prolonged and intense

summer days are spent in a fantasy

vivid imagery clouds a mind so young and inexperienced.

what drives my being is a yearning for particular moments,

moments that will never live up to an expectation so carefully crafted in my imagination.

vibrant are these summer skies i fantasized.

dour are the ones that hang over me now.

suspended in disbelief and disappointment is a mind withered and fogged...

there is beauty somewhere in reality

i know one day i’ll find it.

what is true can’t be said

and what is right isn’t done

and in sheer emotion

that is where you find a sense of

desperation to find something,

something that pleases you.

what pleases you and i?

pleasure can be felt in so many ways

pleasure is essential

pleasure is what shapes us

it could also be what we’re ashamed of

scary and incoherent...

pleasure is a mystery

a mystery we know very well

a sensation that can be felt and shared

a nuisance that is sure to be the end of us all.

what is true could actually be lies after all

and what is right could be very wrong

as vision is derived from light

these pupils viewed crepuscular imagery

coalesced blurs of black and white this iris never knew the beauty of our surroundings til it met the epitome of incandescence that was you

never had I seen before

a world more enticing.

finally I saw life as it should