The sun blazes over, a kinetic embellishment as
we move past the senseless dynamics, the innate mathematics
that give us meaning in the horror we share with each other. We exist
as concepts, we exist into infinity. The sum of our grief too small
to be seen. What exists beyond? Hold me down, move me forward
see that we are piles of sand falling through our very fingers, hope and despair
given shape and broken down, time after time, by crashes of the ocean blue.
Yet still we move, past the horror of living, to that light right there
we get lost in the world, half of it by choice— then there’s the other half the
infinity hides us as we dissolve. We are concepts, we are sand, infinitesimal
grains of grief laid upon each other, laid upon the horror, and upon the
eclectic periods of softness in between. The sun sets us all aflame, and we
prepare to fall apart again, We become riddles in each other’s hands, as we fall
through and the world moves onwards.
The infinity hides us as we dissolve, we weigh nothing, and we live
vicariously, through the eyes and lips of those around us. We examine our faces in the mirror, and wonder how much farther the cracks will spread. The ocean washes over us again, and the cracks we keep to ourselves, our storied obelisks, fall apart. Something spreads as we unclasp our lips, as we send our cracks to each other we hold on to our grief, and we push ourselves onto each other.
Half-dead souls now, looking through the horrors, we walk toward the infinity the warm light, we reach it by burdening each other. We are burdens when we open our lips;
our sands flow from one to the other, and we are set ablaze over and over again. What exists
beyond? I am a riddle in your hand, you, in mine. Before we give each other away, we find
ourselves lost in the kineticism again, we feel so small in our hands. We burn up as we walk.
Dissolving, reanimating. This is all we know, therefore we burn. Blue incandescent, we.
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