This pain in the darkness…

It came to sudden eve to blaspheme the torment of branch through the quintessential. 

It took through the walls the solidity of ghost stories mending soul with ethereal strings and fire.

The amplitude of dust from centuries ferments in my body as life.

And, the blood seeps from the willow trees within pen as ink.

Playing into fruition heart chords drizzled with holy water.

Writing off the grime sizzling aimless through the dexterity…

Should one welcome this fog?

 

Neither light nor dark…

 

Or, a woman such as I that awaits at the cliff of my paper.

The dawn crinkles between my fingers.

I harbor the noisy cloud of indecipherable confessionals like my body curled when lonesome.

Smearing the inhabitants from mirrors and gloss...Such as I…Such as I...

The words smudge across my palms from the inherent of lines.

To feed the starving mind singing with the buzzards, crashing into the cold; into the concrete of gazes...

They peer upon these lines and my fragility are innumerable broken wings.

Tonight they readily read my bones.

Tonight, my clatter amuses sacred sizzling storms within them too.

Tonight, a reincarnation of doves from my palms escape free from the medium within my pen, and the infancy of egos altered reincarnate, swimming forth to emerge like suffocating fish...

Into the air of gazes;

 

I fizzle.

I live and drown...

The electricity sizzles.

I drown and live...

Again and again as I write.

 

Tonight none of us are lonesome…

As we crackle certain secrets.

             © Mimi Caneda Mata
                   Title: Electricity