Chiroptera

They are born with hand like
Wings of membrane clad digits
they spread to fly
Aviated, navigated
For nocturnal hunts
In perfect darkness
Where others feign

They cry a pulse
Echolocating
Mates or competition
Images of prey
And images of space
The night returns their sound

They are quick
Delicate wings
Stretch to out maneuver
Enemy or prey
But membrane tissue tears easily
Sensitive skin with receptors
Like fingertips
Small tears regrow... regenerate

they way the brain works
if one of us can do it,
we all can.
that means we all can
echolocate.

have you seen the story?
young man born blind
learns to see
using echolocation

learn to see.
that's why perception is so valid.
why experience is so scared.
why our messages are necessary.
we can learn to see,
what we choose
and the truth.

the truth of origin
has to lay within
me
and you.
we are parts of the whole -
shattered glass pieces
will never become plastic.
that's how I see
It.

To be a simple observation…

we are only
observationally connected
here.
within the atmosphere of our beings
we speak the tongue of essence.

as I peered through the
crystal clear lens
I recognized the tiny protective hairs
and the curve of the lid.
I was amazed that this
perspective
was new.
I wondered when I would
see it again.
and I wonder and I wander.
because that's what the brain does
when its not echolocating,
or meditating.

illusionary cultural beliefs
accepted and embraced as personal
truths
have desensitized our
senses.

commonly, the senses
are rounded into five.
though echolocation would obviously be
six,
vibration communication
seven,
the list goes on…


eyesight is indescribable.
Thanks! be given to the power to see.

so many have "bad" eyes.
recent technologies like
Lasik
are changing that though.
who needs echolocation anyways?

I live in the absence of presence
proximity filled by emptiness
I look for a god in the machine
but the schematics are held by noncompliant fingers
tightly clutching my rightful deeds
and pointing in the opposite direction.

I’m alive so I feel compelled to live but don’t know how
so when I want to have a night I’ll never forget
I get ****** up
and when I have a night I never want to remember
I get even more ****** up
I think I’m having a good time
but my memory is pretty ****** up.

But something shines through my ****** up memories
a vision of when we first met
you asked me, “What are you up to?”
I misheard you and responded, “Yeah, I’m ****** up too.”
then we talked about this ****** up zoo
and how we could help each other through.

The connection we develop engenders nightmares
I have two kinds of ****** dreams
the ones where I have *** with people I don’t want
bizarre **** like relatives and ghosts
even ghost relatives—and relative ghosts
those dreams can get pretty ****** up
but the dreams where I’m with the people I want
are factored by the power of two
and are exponentially more ****** up.

The dreams become fantasies I can’t reconcile with reality
burying me in insecurity
thinking what keeps me alive is impossible to hold onto like air
I keep wildly grasping in desperate futility
suffocating in deprivation
until eventually I can’t feel anything anymore.

You notice my weakness and attack
you’re a vampire bat
echolocating past relationships you enjoyed more
I tell you you ****** up
and now must slum with a *** instead of number one.

I keep eating up your batshit insanity
contracting your coronavirus
I just want to sleep
I feel like I’m going to die
your fever dreams are sweat submerged stress nightmares
once I start drowning I try to scream
but all that escapes me are the bubbles I live in
they float on the surface, eventually popping.

You keep calling me a clown
so I joke you can juggle my *****
with dismissive sarcasm you respond I should try stand-up
but that’s already what I’m doing
you tell me to jump off a cliff
but I already have
exasperated, you scream I should literally **** myself
but I already write of my own death every night.

You separate from me like a head from a neck
after the noose that tied us together severed our connection
I fell to the ground and realized I was still alive
and started downplaying the bounty on my head
which seems much larger when one sees it on a wanted poster.

I’m not looking for a person
I’m searching for a feeling people are capable of delivering
I don’t care where I find it as long as I do
people often ask me if I’m more attracted to men or women
I find the question somewhat annoying and I’d rather not answer
but if you forced me to choose by putting a gun to my head
that might turn me on even more.

The sky is Velvet.
How velvet blue it flows and sings to me the darkness and screaming of the night. It's softens and dampens
The Echoes echolocating and where I am in this world.
On the other side of the sun I hide in his shadow God his shadow still finds me though.
I'm not hiding in his shade, I am bathing in it. These days have become too much to bear, and **** is his shadow nice, his velvet blue shadow. But there's more to this than that,
How high the sky, how soft the air, how hard the ground is on my bare feet as I bruise and bash them against the ground in my constant wandering.

This Velvet Sky, a soft Silk Tie,
Around my neck it holds me tonight,
Tightening this white shirt to my chest,
This Shadow holds me.

Echolocating - please find my love
Under the shrubs
Or stored

under the cupboard

Deep in the cool cellar
Buried under the earth

Blue bleeding hearts
Clinking in
black beakers

My love is significant
Perhaps even
infinite
Beating in the heart

Of my beautiful infant

But among the rosebuds
The bushes unkempt
Thorns ***** my soft edges
And empty my
glass cup

Frail exposure -
an unsettling scent -
Sweetness are the red roses
Blooming just to be clipped

I walk through this world blindfolded
Echolocating my way with just your heartbeat
Each pulse guiding me through blurry lines
Making the world around me clear as crystal
I trust alone in the visibility each beat gives me

And though your heartbeat fades so soft
I follow the breadcrumbs you leave me
Ultrasound and hardly there at all, perhaps a dream
I'll still find you in this endless pitch black sky

I'm like a vampire, or perhaps more like a fruit bat
What I crave is something sweeter than blood
Only you would do, my favorite chalice
My thirst consumes me, such hunger becomes me
With no true beginning and no true end

I glide across the starlight, seeking you out
With my echoes in the dark
The sound of your heart, brighter than any flame
Lighting my way, and like a moth I follow
On gilded wings to you I soar

But all fires burn out
No matter how eternal their light seems
And all moths return to dust
No matter how immortal their dreams

I'll trust only
In my echoes in the dark

Poem by: Layla Smith (Pyrrhathepoet)

I walk through this world blindfolded,
echolocating my way with just your heartbeat.
Each pulse guiding me through blurry lines,
making the world around me pellucid.

And though your heartbeat fades so soft–
I follow the breadcrumbs you leave me,
reminiscing in the times it was deafening, now
ultrasound, hardly there at all,
perhaps only a dream.

I may be vampire–
But what I crave is something sweeter than blood.
Only you would do, my favorite chalice,
such a decadent delight, sweet honey on my tongue,
the taste of your love I used to drink till I was drunk–

Now my thirst consumes me, such hunger becomes me,
with no true beginning and no true end.
I glide across the starlight, seeking you out
with my echoes in the dark.

On gilded wings I soar to you,
no matter how your fickle feelings wane.
The sound of your heart is still brighter than any flame–
It illuminates my way, and like a moth I follow.

But all fires burn out in their due time I suppose,
no matter how eternal their light seems.
And when too close to the sun,
all vampires return to dust–
no matter how immortal their dreams.