Silence like treacle Dripping on my ear drums Drumming sweet beats that Match my slowing breath Thicker than blood and More rancid than bile Sitting on my forehead And telling me to sleep Someone say a word in this Congealing quiet night Make shapes with your mouth And speak directly to my soul
My neck is stretched and my heart is soaring. My eyes have been blessed. Baptized in a sea of sparkling treacle. A sticky mess; I find myself stuck in an artwork. Something so vast; I could never understand this artists mind. My place is anywhere but this soil I stand upon, my feet are walking but I am never far from where I've been, am or will be. All is now and now is everything. I hold this key but there is no locked door to open. Or is it a safe? A diary? Unbranded, I must look. Directions to an unknown destination. Is there anything that needs fixing? Or are the screws fitted tight? Does the bulb still hold light? My neck is stretched. I see a dome with lights, stuck to the unbreakable glass. Dying to fall to the earth and flourish in our roots. With the secrets, the directions. I am blind. Until I see the stars; I am unseeing and ignorant. Like glowing rain that's stopped still in time and space. Until they fall. Making humanity bloom. I wait for this day. A time that will never come. A time that's already been. A time seconds from now. When that light falls upon my filthy skin. I will be.
I wrote this after being absolutely dumbstruck at the sight of the sky in a small town called Ganmain, inland New South Wales. Everything was so alive and in my face. I couldn't leave that sky without a form of recognition and this is my acknowledgment to that universe beyond our tangible existence.