I am all ears.
Listening to the wind — time in disguise, running through the shapes of my body, to my lower abdomen from in between the legs to the foot, until the feel disappears but the sensation prevails. Time has always been the caped crusader doing justice at night, when you lie awake on your bed staring at the ceiling running through your emptiness searching for the moment that has passed by.
Just like wind, it can go forward and backward in space, sometimes filling up the emptiness, and sometimes widening the void leaving behind all those unaccountable years.
But strangely, the biggest threat to this time, has been my mind that is racing forward to it, not in a shrewd wicked kind of way, but rather there is distress in the mind that accelerates the adrenaline, until the thoughts entangle making everything a little bit messy, each time. They hide amidst the graveyard of hopelessness and despair intact, breathing and existing.
Just like a river that does not differentiate between the cursed and blessed waters from its tributaries, my minds fails again and again in its futile attempt to save me from drowning. And when I do breath there is the smell of anguish and the air is thick with the sensation of dispossessed feelings that have once safeguarded the darkness inside me.
But now, I lie naked staring at the ceiling waiting for time to save me form the turbulent downstream of thoughts, until I breath my last air of anguish.
And, then I will bleed darkness once again clogging and choking my veins as I drain out more and more till the last drop.
©Jumbled Letters 2019
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