pure

whiteness-48.jpg

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lost

somewhere

between the lines 

on every page

and

between the words

that you said

i lost myself. 

open

you make me feel

like your fingers are peeling open my mind

turning it inside out

forcing my nails across a chalkboard

leaving white trails

a warning

a taste

of everything that is to come.

coloursĀ 

brown

blue

green

they were all so beautiful

in your hair

they reminded me of sunshine

and of green pastures

and i could only watch

as another

flooded it with fire.

mother

your hands
are wrinkled
and tired
and calloused
more so with every touch
almost as if
your youth
was dissolving
into me
like a happy pill
in water
effervescent
questioning
its own existence
while giving away
what little it had.

lost

we are all castaways
robinson crusoes
lost
in this vast universe
alone
in the darkness of the night
abandoned
by the one we call God.

existence

your fingers

weave through human consciousness

like it is paper

tearing

twisting

folding

into paper boats

from your childhood

riding through rain water

in a quiet corner of the universe.