#precognition
******
a choir of omens
that fly on wings of death,
and soar on winds of agony.
harbingers of oncoming storms:
what lies beneath cacophonous cackles?
solace in the chains of sorrow.
Jun 11, 2014
Jun 11, 2014 at 10:50 AM UTC
I cut through realities
like a slow-moving train,
seeing chess masters, victims,
silent witnesses
drowning in dense air.
From a dim-lit corner
I see those who run
breathing in danger.
Scattered shreds of information
stick to my head.
Precognition is
riddled with blurry spoilers.
Too vague to hold,
too sharp to ignore.
One girl was saved.
The boy? I sensed the loss
but not the name.
Bitter ineffability.
I draw words from an old well.
I wish my visions
were just a nightmare—
not incarnations
of a day yet to come or not.
The pictures wrench at my veins,
like dulled knives
playing a discordant melody.
Only a clear mind can save me.
I rebel in the silent scream,
clenching my hands
smiling slightly—
just enough
so others don’t see my fear.
The heavy drift of solitude
between reality and possibility…
Stubborn time bends,
refusing to be linear.
Am I still here…
or nothing but a vanishing sound?
Mar 5, 2025
Mar 5, 2025 at 12:20 AM UTC