Sta.sh
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quiet. quiet-quiet. by =Sindakri
the night air is calling.
heavy eyes fighting the temptress
of dreams.
but there are adventures, heads on
pillows with bated breath and uneven
heart beats.
were we not friends once?
with flushes of colours, batted lashes-
where has the past gone but to pave way
for the future?
creaking knees and doorways, windows
who tell fortunes - hand held nightmares
and lullabies to scare monsters.
quiet- hand holding, machines living,
goodbyes to stop the candles burning.
portrait it is your portrait on the wall,portrait by =Sindakri
which resonates beyond me.
your eyes that follow-
and judge and mock,
every thought of escape
I entertain.
and the curve of your lips
which reminds even me,
that every foothold is that.
a hold, a hollow, a hope.
but there is wonder-
is there more than this?
every breath, every sniff,
reminds even me that
I am alive.
it is your portrait on the wall,
which harbours that contempt-
that disproval of my unwillingness
to put hand above hand,
to keep trying to be
dead.
to be that portrait on the wall.
frustration I can feel the frustration-frustration by =Sindakri
pulling and thrashing,
drowning in the vast ocean of
unconceivable goals.
and it's sinking, falling beneath
the water, light disappearing.
Daylight receding away, just out of
reach.
inescapable.
pulling I can feel a pullpulling by =Sindakri
and the rope around my ankle
becomes tight.
the trawling ship drags
me across the ocean floor.
I dig my fingers into your flesh
and my drowning throat pleads:
don't leave.
but it's me.
My heart is fevered, my body
is losing hold.
I can feel the sand between my teeth
as I grasp at straws in open mouths.
I will call out:
please don't leave.
and all I will hear is the shore
with the waves and the stranded whales.
and I will cry out:
don't leave.
but it's me.
seasons mountains surround the greenest valley,seasons by =Sindakri
flowers blooming under the sunshine sky.
clouds rolling in with thunderclap fires -
the valley filling with the molten water.
of lives who have forgotten or -
perhaps overflowing with remembered
lives, who can skate across the summers of
youth with constant autumn in the winter of
seemingly neglected springs.
Forgetting Forgotten-Forgetting by =Sindakri
spreading my fingers to cover
a sky of churning clouds.
rain is falling, drops flooding
my dewey leaf eyes.
the waves brush through
sandy beach thighs
with freckled memories.
I'm trying to remember,
where have I gone?
forgotten-
sleepless nights passing
starless ideas of surviving.
I can feel the failing grips,
the ladder rungs break.
there is trimmed grass in the air,
I'm breathing damp flowers.
and I can feel myself going down.
I've forgotten -
and I'm gone.
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