u/MemoirsOfSnails

Nothing pure can stay

For in its passing is what presents value

Transitions in form

Transitions in purpose

The beauty of the tide is both in the rise and fall

The leaving and coming home

In this place, my voice is but a whisper in tunnel as I walk on the dotted line

Cars go by so fast, I can hardly see them

Nevertheless, I hope to appreciate all the shapes and sounds before the echo comes home to me

Changed in sound slightly, but at the core the same

I stand in soft, damp soil and grow with the trees, consuming their fruits until I become that which feeds them in return

Nothing pure can stay

For in its passing is what presents value

Transitions in form

Transitions in purpose

The beauty of the tide is both in the rise and fall

The leaving and coming home

In this place, my voice is but a whisper in tunnel as I walk on the dotted line

Cars go by so fast, I can hardly see them

Nevertheless, I hope to appreciate all the shapes and sounds before the echo comes home to me

Changed in sound slightly, but at the core the same

I stand in soft, damp soil and grow with the trees, consuming their fruits until I become that which feeds them in return

I hold my breath in the hallway when I pass by your old room

Despite all the time that has passed, something has stayed

Form given life in absence

Everything is exactly how you left it

A sort of suspended state of animation

I feel the absurdity most late at night

We all know no one is coming home

We all know you are not coming back

Nevertheless, I hold my breath in the hallway as I walk past your room

Sometimes I can swear I see you out of the corner of my eye, walking past the doorway

I don't know if it is a blessing or curse

It's been so long, your voice on video sounds so alien to me, as if it were a stranger

As if you were a stranger

Despite this, I know the truth

I know I will keep holding my breath as I walk in the hallway past your room

We will never meet again here, yet I will leave you a note under the pillow you once rested your head on

I must move on as the world does

I no longer know which of us is the ghost in this house

If the circumstances were reversed, what would I expect from you

I wonder if you saw me in hallway, would you hold your breath too?

I hold my breath in the hallway when I pass by your old room

Despite all the time that has passed, something has stayed

Form given life in absence

Everything is exactly how you left it

A sort of suspended state of animation

I feel the absurdity most late at night

We all know no one is coming home

We all know you are not coming back

Nevertheless, I hold my breath in the hallway as I walk past your room

Sometimes I can swear I see you out of the corner of my eye, walking past the doorway

I don't know if it is a blessing or curse

It's been so long, your voice on video sounds so alien to me, as if it were a stranger

As if you were a stranger

Despite this, I know the truth

I know I will keep holding my breath as I walk in the hallway past your room

We will never meet again here, yet I will leave you a note under the pillow you once rested your head on

I must move on as the world does

I no longer know which of us is the ghost in this house

If the circumstances were reversed, what would I expect from you

I wonder if you saw me in hallway, would you hold your breath too?

I am the wet pair of boots you accidentally slid fresh washed socks into

My spine the rain coat you wring out after the storm

Taking all my tears with you to water the earth

The yearning for contact hurts like toothaches that never cease

The kinds that run like electricity through the a nervous system, causing muscle contractures

I am not a smart man

Only smart enough to see my own idiocy

My feet hurt from this journey

The pain of growth and learning tears deep into me with sleepless nights, and as I see more, this world shrinks down to the size of a thimble, maybe smaller

It gives me the feeling that those whom I will never meet are family, a brief walk away

We are all making the most of the illusion of self

I take in everything with these glassy red eyes

I see love

I see joy

I see life

I see death

I see much more of these than my heart can take

I am not much fun, in fact, I am closer to boring

I am disengaged and detached at gatherings

I am falling behind

I am a breathing ghost

Speaking but lacking the allowance of purpose

The duality of mind and heart

Trying to know without feeling

Trying to feel without thinking

I am a buzzkill with saucers for eyes

An ocean for a heart

This is my rut

Outside my open windows, the rain gives this feeling voice

I am the wet pair of boots you accidentally slid fresh washed socks into

My spine the rain coat you wring out after the storm

Taking all my tears with you to water the earth

The yearning for contact hurts like toothaches that never cease

The kinds that run like electricity through the a nervous system, causing muscle contractures

I am not a smart man

Only smart enough to see my own idiocy

My feet hurt from this journey

The pain of growth and learning tears deep into me with sleepless nights, and as I see more, this world shrinks down to the size of a thimble, maybe smaller

It gives me the feeling that those whom I will never meet are family, a brief walk away

We are all making the most of the illusion of self

I take in everything with these glassy red eyes

I see love

I see joy

I see life

I see death

I see much more of these than my heart can take

I am not much fun, in fact, I am closer to boring

I am disengaged and detached at gatherings

I am falling behind

I am a breathing ghost

Speaking but lacking the allowance of purpose

The duality of mind and heart

Trying to know without feeling

Trying to feel without thinking

I am a buzzkill with saucers for eyes

An ocean for a heart

This is my rut

Outside my open windows, the rain gives this feeling voice

I saw a dead doe this morning

The man who shot it had left it to bleed

It felt odd seeing something that had moved with such grace now frozen still in rigor mortis

Her eyes were still open as if searching for help

I wonder why the man killed her

I wonder why he left the body

I wonder even more what she had felt in those last moments

Her life before

Her life after

To have everything taken in the dying light of dusk

Was the artificial beam of a flashlight the last light her eyes saw, or did she bear witness to the waning moon as it made its appearance in the darkening sky?

I hope she didn't suffer greatly

Something to make an atrocity mean something

My face tastes salty amidst strewn tears

The needless savageness of man is so peculiar

Having buried what was left of her form in cold ground, I hope what comes next is softer than this place

I saw a dead doe this morning

The man who shot it had left it to bleed

It felt odd seeing something that had moved with such grace now frozen still in rigor mortis

Her eyes were still open as if searching for help

I wonder why the man killed her

I wonder why he left the body

I wonder even more what she had felt in those last moments

Her life before

Her life after

To have everything taken in the dying light of dusk

Was the artificial beam of a flashlight the last light her eyes saw, or did she bear witness to the waning moon as it made its appearance in the darkening sky?

I hope she didn't suffer greatly

Something to make an atrocity mean something

My face tastes salty amidst strewn tears

The needless savageness of man is so peculiar

Having buried what was left of her form in cold ground, I hope what comes next is softer than this place

Nothing grows here

It either stagnates or rots

The air in this room is thick, as if it I had left it twenty years ago rather than twenty minutes

I could've sworn I have heard this news a thousand times before

Men in expensive suits on television tell me not to worry

My meals are humble, and employment even more so

If only I were lucky, I could save enough to leave

The leaves fall from the tree into large piles with time, and outside, it always feels like autumn

The shadowed corners in the living room watch the glow from the TV at night while reruns of old shows play, never taking their leave here, even at midday

I do anything to stop this feeling of stagnation

Friends from the past pass through my vision in town like ghosts

Faded memories I'd rather avoid

The silent walks around duplicitous houses in the neighborhood are cut through by nearby sirens and small groupings of gunshots

There is a memorial for a woman who was struck by a drunk driver next to the sidewalk

It is lit at night by solar-powered lights

I ask for a warm day and a smooth pull from a joint

A new town and a new job

My bedroom feels as if gravity there is doubled

I cling to music and films, trying to touch that part that has been lost

Eyes closed, eyes opened

Cycle repeating

We are the strange in a new time full of old monsters

I think today I will lie in my bed with my blankets pulled up over my head

A thin veiled illusion separating the world from me

Nothing grows seemingly, except for me

Nothing grows here

It either stagnates or rots

The air in this room is thick, as if it I had left it twenty years ago rather than twenty minutes

I could've sworn I have heard this news a thousand times before

Men in expensive suits on television tell me not to worry

My meals are humble, and employment even more so

If only I were lucky, I could save enough to leave

The leaves fall from the tree into large piles with time, and outside, it always feels like autumn

The shadowed corners in the living room watch the glow from the TV at night while reruns of old shows play, never taking their leave here, even at midday

I do anything to stop this feeling of stagnation

Friends from the past pass through my vision in town like ghosts

Faded memories I'd rather avoid

The silent walks around duplicitous houses in the neighborhood are cut through by nearby sirens and small groupings of gunshots

There is a memorial for a woman who was struck by a drunk driver next to the sidewalk

It is lit at night by solar-powered lights

I ask for a warm day and a smooth pull from a joint

A new town and a new job

My bedroom feels as if gravity there is doubled

I cling to music and films, trying to touch that part that has been lost

Eyes closed, eyes opened

Cycle repeating

We are the strange in a new time full of old monsters

I think today I will lie in my bed with my blankets pulled up over my head

A thin veiled illusion separating the world from me

Nothing grows seemingly, except for me

In the darkness, a flashlight casts life on the lifeless

Old hallways seen as they once were

Voices so close to the surface

Like a knife tip against a membrane

The floors are scattered with lives

Newspapers and trinkets

Walls patchworked in purpose

Paintings and poems and passages

Dust settles in the corners of this space

At night, youths from the town will enter and talk of ghosts and dares

Unable or unwilling to know they themselves are the ghosts in these halls

Visitors simply passing through

The brilliance of a firework in a tunnel

Lingering as all but echo

Spores linger in the air on eyes like film

The music cuts through it, sounding so thin

As if the tones are small sacrifices to the life once residing in this space

It is an entity in itself in the night

Given presence by the beams of electric sun

In the darkness, a flashlight casts life on the lifeless

Old hallways seen as they once were

Voices so close to the surface

Like a knife tip against a membrane

The floors are scattered with lives

Newspapers and trinkets

Walls patchworked in purpose

Paintings and poems and passages

Dust settles in the corners of this space

At night, youths from the town will enter and talk of ghosts and dares

Unable or unwilling to know they themselves are the ghosts in these halls

Visitors simply passing through

The brilliance of a firework in a tunnel

Lingering as all but echo

Spores linger in the air on eyes like film

The music cuts through it, sounding so thin

As if the tones are small sacrifices to the life once residing in this space

It is an entity in itself in the night

Given presence by the beams of electric sun

A hairline fracture around the orbital socket

The shapes look much more blurry

Like when we hotboxed your car

With the adrenaline dump, there is a sense of self

Of purpose

The withdrawing of want

From the rooftop, a man sees his whole life

The man outside, in the midst of the tornado, hears the calm of harmonizing sirens

The static dims in moments, and we feel as if we are kids again

Unable to piece together this modern batch of material cruelty

This life under artificial stars

Evermore, the question twitches along neural pathways to placate one thought

Is this it?

Is it what it has always been?

Is it what it will be?

The man on the rooftop keeps a polaroid of his family in his pocket

The man in the storm carries an uprooted but living peony

Those with hope carry the future like Atlas before

The modern Sisyphus

Blessed and doomed by the same gift

A hairline fracture around the orbital socket

The shapes look much more blurry

Like when we hotboxed your car

With the adrenaline dump, there is a sense of self

Of purpose

The withdrawing of want

From the rooftop, a man sees his whole life

The man outside, in the midst of the tornado, hears the calm of harmonizing sirens

The static dims in moments, and we feel as if we are kids again

Unable to piece together this modern batch of material cruelty

This life under artificial stars

Evermore, the question twitches along neural pathways to placate one thought

Is this it?

Is it what it has always been?

Is it what it will be?

The man on the rooftop keeps a polaroid of his family in his pocket

The man in the storm carries an uprooted but living peony

Those with hope carry the future like Atlas before

The modern Sisyphus

Blessed and doomed by the same gift

Bricks the color of cinnamon

Steel made crimson from oxidation

I a phantom passenger of past loves

The wispy air left from blown out birthday candles

An odd heaviness holds sway in my heart and deafening silence

Looking to fading furniture and cigarette smoke stained ceilings

The stagnancy in the living room has more presence than my own

These textured walls turn in my stomach

The vinyl in the player scratches

The midday sun making way through partially closed blinds tells that hushed truth

To be loved is to know change

Bricks the color of cinnamon

Steel made crimson from oxidation

I a phantom passenger of past loves

The wispy air left from blown out birthday candles

An odd heaviness holds sway in my heart and deafening silence

Looking to fading furniture and cigarette smoke stained ceilings

The stagnancy in the living room has more presence than my own

These textured walls turn in my stomach

The vinyl in the player scratches

The midday sun making way through partially closed blinds tells that hushed truth

To be loved is to know change

What if the sea welcomed me home?

That great swelling beast of primordial push and pull

Under the full moon in the slivers of light those depths look so enticing

To leave all that is for what was and will be

The world that lingers under the surface

The world you see when you stare too long in mirrors

The places that hold steady in dreams of all who wonder

The sand forms cushions under my heels and I cannot make out your form except for the cherry end of your cigarette

We are of meager materials and plentiful in longing eyes

Skittering crabs dance in the light of the moon

And the sound of waves becomes an all consuming melody

We are ants in front of mountains

Bacterium in an estuary of miniscule proportions

Born in a great void

And yet as it has as since I can remember 

The sea beckons in its rises and calls my name in its crashes

What if the sea welcomed me home?

That great swelling beast of primordial push and pull

Under the full moon in the slivers of light those depths look so enticing

To leave all that is for what was and will be

The world that lingers under the surface

The world you see when you stare too long in mirrors

The places that hold steady in dreams of all who wonder

The sand forms cushions under my heels and I cannot make out your form except for the cherry end of your cigarette

We are of meager materials and plentiful in longing eyes

Skittering crabs dance in the light of the moon

And the sound of waves becomes an all consuming melody

We are ants in front of mountains

Bacterium in an estuary of miniscule proportions

Born in a great void

And yet as it has as since I can remember 

The sea beckons in its rises and calls my name in its crashes

What if the sea welcomed me home?

That great swelling beast of primordial push and pull

Under the full moon in the slivers of light those depths look so enticing

To leave all that is for what was and will be

The world that lingers under the surface

The world you see when you stare too long in mirrors

The places that hold steady in dreams of all who wonder

The sand forms cushions under my heels and I cannot make out your form except for the cherry end of your cigarette

We are of meager materials and plentiful in longing eyes

Skittering crabs dance in the light of the moon

And the sound of waves becomes an all consuming melody

We are ants in front of mountains

Bacterium in an estuary of miniscule proportions

Born in a great void

And yet as it has as since I can remember 

The sea beckons in its rises and calls my name in its crashes