Smokescreen

Mon, 01/13/2020 - 13:22 -- TheEon

Disappear into the billowing ashes
of the shell of the former,
Galvanized by the chaotic world.
Jettison values of old
To adapt to the cruelty of the human mind.
Reform its periodical temple with the printless digits.
.

.
Identity Lost
.

.
Brevity of existence, the desired fruit of worn bones that

.
Reverberate with the impacts of harsh syllables that filet the soul into slabs of solemn meat,

.

Lost “friends” that become lost bullets, projectile, finding a convenient abode deep in my flesh,

.

Bestial howls that forever soar as they seek the gates of heaven to break through and finally break through to God to plead for a break and not a nervous breakdown,

.

Dissonance with reality as the concept of sleep becomes more and more abstract

.

The line blurs between what is real and what is not real, what is a nightmare and what is a nightmare happening with my eyes actually closed

.

And the swaying of my body against the breeze as I stand at the peak of the highest skyscraper in Houston, peering down the technicolored abyss of bliss that awaits another resident

.

But whispers of comfort emerge buoyed elegantly by the varying overtones of an ornate orchestra
.

.
Identity Found
.

.
Sacred tones echo from the empty chamber of my heart

.

The cruelty of my human mind wrestles to silence the serene sounds
.

The fear of powerlessness manifests as the sounds amplify
.

The whispers become more and more coherent until three words are understood...

.

"You are loved"
.

Until this point, my flesh was numb, acting as a fortress guarding my inner self that was beaten and discarded for the rats of this world to race to an opinion of my worth as if the prize is so damn gouda
.

My bones quivered all the more, and until this point, I never knew love
.

But the feelings of warmth, clarity, and joy ever so penetrated my flesh,
.

My guardian flesh, and stilled my quaking bones
.

I could see, beyond a shadow of the valley of doubt, a streak of glimmering light in the murky sky
.

Anchored by the gravity of the world...or so it seemed.
.

Anchored by the gravity of the world...or so it seemed that the world anchored by this light.
.

Is the world being held from collapsing in itself?
.

From descending into complete self-ruin by this glimmering light that now pierces through this smokescreen, the result of sun-dried tears and evaporated dreams,
.

This smokescreen, slowly dissipating with love ever increasing?
.

Not knowing any other way to go from the height of my despair,
.

I race through the smokescreen towards the light...
.

.
Appear from the billowing ashes
Of the shell of the former
Galvanized by the chaotic world.
Jettison values of old
To adapt to the beauty of the humankind.
Reform its resurrected temple, oh Hands of God!

This poem is about: 
Me

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