Ghost Train

I am furious at the noise

from which I refuse to remove myself

and I am despondent

at the surrealism

of the razors

that I'm too scared to throw away.

Sometimes, I am the problem.

I could conquer every atom

with nothing but a cloud

to my name

but I refuse to learn

how to drift like it can

because the weight

of stasis

seems more like a cold hug

than the abstraction

One day we will talk

About the bright angels

That danced in the sky

In reverent tones

With the ache of disbelief

And our quiet wonder

We'll eat our regrets

'Neath an unforgiving sun

The sun beating through my windows during this godforsaken heatwave. 🥵

Paper: Arches/ 100% cotton/ cold press

Brushes: Escoda Optimo liner/ Princeton Aqua Elite

I visited my Nana last week.

My family told me she had gone insane, lost her mind.

Now condemned to room 115, she sits frozen in time.

The TV is always on. Always on.

She tells me wonderful stories,

Telling me about her granddaughter, how she's an artist.

She recalls a time far away,

in a house her husband no longer owns.

She wasn't kind to her husband, or so my father says.

She was mean, absent and unloving.

Now, her husband continues his life traveling.

Running into you.

She doesn't know you're the other woman,

Yet circumstance makes it seem logical.

His life doesn't end when his wife is gone,

But she's not really gone, is she?

She sits there, in room 115,

She doesn't remember her husband's name, but she has his photo on her nightstand.

How could she be content, aching silence replacing the sound of her lover's voice?

The TV is always on. Always on.

it's pointless to worry over time. we have what we have.

stop keeping your eye on the ball. the ball is a lure- a carrot dangling just ahead, a rabbit for the greyhound, coursing endless circles without prize, or relevance.

I held hands with impatience

and my skin bruised.

I opened my ribcage

to let the breeze in

and I was finally able to breathe.

I've been told

by old friends

and disembodied heads

that the world is collapsing.

I don't know nor care

if they are correct

because regardless

of the expiration date,

I'm staring into the sun

so I can finally see

and nothing will matter

other than the afterimages

that guide me to the desert

where there is a sandcastle

I was able to build