“I’m a student of light,” Louis said. “And a poet.” “No, I leave that to Charles Baudelaire. My job is to capture things before they disappear.” “Am I going to disappear, Monsieur Daguerre?” - Dominic Smith, The Mercury Visions of Louis Daguerre
i am subway air; my undergroundness apparent in your lungs your runningaway your eyes i forgetᵗᵘʳⁿ ᵃʳᵒᵘⁿᵈ and my family of trains and silence. ᵗʰᵉʸ ᵈᵒⁿ’ᵗ ᵍᵒ ᵗᵒᵍᵉᵗʰᵉʳ ᵇᵘᵗ ʰᵉʳᵉ ᶦ ᵃᵐ.
i don’t take after the transportation: i am poised poison and my hands hold all the words i have ever opened my mouth forᵈᶦʳᵗᶜʰᵒᵏᵉᶜᵒᵘᵍʰᵍᵃˢᵖ.
but i dance, too. everywhere. in everyone. places and people who are not youᵗᵘʳⁿ ᵃʳᵒᵒᵒᵒᵒᵘⁿᵈ. i can’t help it. i have no choice. they are here, and…
and when i am tired: i stop and just am. for however long it takes my memory to paint something small and heavy the lines of past decisions the shadows of living trees in a forest of dead ones the shapes of a thought i once had the color of that moment ⁿᵒⁿᵉ, ᵇᵉᶜᵃᵘˢᵉ ᵐʸ ᵉʸᵉˢ ʷᵒᵘˡᵈ ʰᵃᵛᵉ ᵇᵉᵉⁿ ᶜˡᵒˢᵉᵈ the movement of that glimpse of infinite imagination that i once made my religion. once.
then: i stop stopping. i wake up from nosleep. i look around and i cannot find you.
The corners singed Smoke rising It was on too long So not surprising Next time I won't read: The email, the text, or the Instagram message. Tomorrow I'll forget I'll flick the switch And my mind will drift Like a balloon sailing out to sea And once again burnt toast Will be waiting for me
I walk along a trapeze, palms sweaty, legs shaking, refusing to fall either way. to go left is to fall into a fire for a life which burns my bones. the people will smile upon me, oblivious to the ash surrounding them. to go right is to fall into soft trees. the leaves caress my skin, but the people vanish like smoke, and I fall to the ground. the exact middle is survival until I reach the other side.