What do I do with your silence?
It’s like reaching for a step that’s not there, stumble over the invisible and fall when all I want to do is fly.

Trespassing areas are violated, and I am not ready for the consequences.
Yet you trespass.
Dark, flat, still air.
Everything is out of order here.
While I hear the noise of dry leaves breaking under my steps,
The only moving things are thoughts.

Like vermiculation, they produce discomfort.
Like water that boils, they burn.
Like a wave that crashes into a shore, they hurt.
Like a pain inflicted on someone who doesn’t deserve it... or a slap that hits the cheek of an innocent, it humiliates.
It’s an unjust mental pain that crucifies everyone.
Me, you... All others.
What will they do with the cracks you’ve left on me?

I know you can’t understand me, and it’s really not my fault.
I am unexplainable, like the universe.
But I know that complex matter isn’t for everyone.

I wonder if you are anyone or somebody special.

I close my eyes and feel everything.
I hear a voice: “Live if you can or die.”
It’s a curse or a blessing.

To anyone who’s not you, I will ask:
If you are in the dark, can you see the light?
Because I am a complex matter and for you to understand me, you gotta be special.

Penny Black ©