A Dimension Of Suicide
I find it mysteriously sad,
watching my footprints in grass
Begin to fade,
With the upward bending of each returning blade.
My path is gone,
Aside from what I am standing on,
But what if.... where I see tufts in lawn,
My mirrored footprints pushing up and lasting long,
Into my world he pushes in,
A happy man with a stronger print.
As I wake with a worldly dream still inside my head,
I try to store it in the window beside my bed.
Reaching to touch a star and feeling the cold of glass instead,
I realize so close a world
since waking--has long been dead.
A silverscreen of car headlight beams,
gliding my walls conveys a supernatural theme,
Faster and faster,
'till the motion stills a scene,
In another world,
A man it seems?
Or a silky spectral suit
of asphyxiating white--
back to the color
of skeletons from dirt exhumed.
With an unbecoming
oblivion colored tie,
So flawlessly destroying
Edges onto spectral light.
And this suit would animate,
Gasping, trying to adjust,
The imperceptable knot,
Destroying, his tailored cumulus.
This tie stung with such a prelude,
it would only be akin,
to only one other view.
the wasp coming down the spider's tunnel,
and knowing your home is now your tomb,
stung, helpless,
waiting for the eggs to hatch,
and then consumed.
Just looking into where I will be ending,
In destroying digestion,
I was already dissolving,
In darkness ensphered
looking out its lining
into a more abysmal atmosphere.
I woke,
And touched a star on a cold window drawn,
To quickly make this dream be gone,
I ran barefoot outside,
To stand till dawn--
Grateful,
For holding down blades of cold wet lawn.