#thebed

All night I hear the noise of water sobbing. All night I make night in me, I make the day that begins on my account, that sobs because day falls like water through night. All night I hear the voice of someone seeking me out. All night you abandon me slowly like the water that sobs slowly falling. All night I write luminous messages, messages of rain, all night someone checks for me and I check for someone. The noise of steps in the circle near this choleric light birthed from my insomnia. Steps of someone who no longer writhes, who no longer writes. All night someone holds back, then crosses the circle of bitter light. All night I drown in your eyes become my eyes. All night I prod myself on toward that squatter in the circle of my silence. All night I see something lurch toward my looking, something humid, contrived of silence launching the sound of someone sobbing. Absence blows grayly and night goes dense. Night, the shade of the eyelids of the dead, viscous night, exhaling some black oil that blows me forward and prompts me to search out an empty space without warmth, without cold. All night I flee from someone. I lead the chase, I lead the fugue. I sing a song of mourning. Black birds over black shrouds. My brain cries. Demented wind. I leave the tense and strained hand, I don’t want to know anything but this perpetual wailing, this clatter in the night, this delay, this infamy, this pursuit, this inexistence. All night I see that abandonment is me, that the sole sobbing voice is me. We can search with lanterns, cross the shadow’s lie. We can feel the heart thud in the thigh and water subside in the archaic site of the heart. All night I ask you why. All night you tell me no.

https://www.instagram.com/l.for.limbo/

The Bed | 28x22 (25x31 framed) | Bleach, colored pencil, black paper

The recommended time of sleep for a child is narrowing as the clock slowly strikes 2:00 and the lownsome human lays like a crowded stick in the depths of their pillowed-covered beds , music plays in the shadows of the background- lit up by vague colourful lights that bring the faded image of the wall decorations- everyone is unsure of what the music does , unsure if it is distracting . But nontheless , there they lay , holding their phone askew and tapping their fingers on the screen , only the phone knows whatsup , the people next door dont know. Neither do the parents . Neither does the tortoise and the dog . They all sleep , they believe , but the residents do not know of which has happened and they do not know what will and for that they should be frightened and scared but , truly , what is it to be scared in your own kind home? Uncivil , unhumane they speak of them and though they hear as they are awake they do not cover their ears but instead listen and scoff and at night no one knows what will happen but their unconscious believes of something that is less that believeable but as everyone says , they asked for it

And so the knife is cleaned and so is the floor and at the end of all everything is near and prepared and they lay back in their stained bed and laugh a vicious laugh but yet as known , no one can hear since no one is awake