I hadn’t really known
How objects could be emotions
But this--this is an emotion like none other.
This is the glass conductor of light
Whose soft rays became symphonies
Singing praise to Iris.
She is the blood-red film
Which cuts through the air alongside
Streams flowing orange and violet
And every color in between.
Like a jouster
She throws shards of rainbows
Through each clouded pane.
Their tranquil beauty is alive
Breathing in the wind
Teaching me that my lungs are a restriction.
That my body is a metronome linked to the time
Which will signal the stop of my ticking heart
And I don’t know how many acts I have left to find my resolution.
And though I cannot figure out
How to even begin to comprehend just what that might be
I know only that I do not want to depart this life
As a mediocre play cut off mid-scene.
I want the chance to write my own ending
So that I can tie off the loose strings of my anxieties to balloons
And let them lift the burden off of my shoulders.
I want them to carry my depression along with it
So when it rejoins natures tear ducts
Which first brought it life,
I can free myself from this prison
Which made the atmosphere look like a gas chamber
Trapped by the ever looming clouds.
I saw more through opaque glass, than I ever saw in myself
And so that stained glass window which showed me perspective
Became a home for my restless thoughts.
Oct 26, 2014
Oct 26, 2014 at 10:58 PM UTC
I hadn’t really known
How objects could be emotions
But this--this is an emotion like none other.
This is the glass conductor of light
Whose soft rays became symphonies
Singing praise to Iris.
She is the blood-red film
Which cuts through the air alongside
Streams flowing orange and violet
And every color in between.
Like a jouster
She throws shards of rainbows
Through each clouded pane.
Their tranquil beauty is alive
Breathing in the wind
Teaching me that my lungs are a restriction.
That my body is a metronome linked to the time
Which will signal the stop of my ticking heart
And I don’t know how many acts I have left to find my resolution.
And though I cannot figure out
How to even begin to comprehend just what that might be
I know only that I do not want to depart this life
As a mediocre play cut off mid-scene.
I want the chance to write my own ending
So that I can tie off the loose strings of my anxieties to balloons
And let them lift the burden off of my shoulders.
I want them to carry my depression along with it
So when it rejoins natures tear ducts
Which first brought it life,
I can free myself from this prison
Which made the atmosphere look like a gas chamber
Trapped by the ever looming clouds.
I saw more through opaque glass, than I ever saw in myself
And so that stained glass window which showed me perspective
Became a home for my restless thoughts.
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