19.02.24
The black spider of a pier burned out many years ago still stands,
A provider of stark contrast to the white shimmer of the sun lining
The border of the sea. The broader horizon, dominated by the urban
Haze of grey soothes the cataracts, or the pinpoint pupil of your
Prickled, fading blue iris. We are surrounded by blue and this purgatorial
Golden light. You could gaze here forever atop this concrete monolith.
In fact, that's mostly what we do. Watching the minutes pass by,
The timing on the parking meter ticking away. Best not let it overrun.
It finds itself slowly fleeting, then seemingly all at once. But you are fighting
The howling winds. The light doesn't seem to be dying in your presence;
Only morphing, altering. I can't envision the sunset now. Now, this is
A strange moment when I wish the night would come, when I longed
To forget about all this with a plastic cup of spirit down on the hot stones
Of Summer; our hair slightly damp heading into the evening, our lips tasting
Faintly of salt. Still, you continue. Not to live, not even to exist, but to
Persist. A ringing cry across the corridors; muted and muffled mumblings
Of the pain you have brought upon yourself. The catheter of the end
Dangling, a disruptive half opened wound of red amongst the spotless pastel
Walls and mockery vinyl floors. You are treated in this lasting moment better
Than those with vision ahead. You have reached this point, but can't grasp how
Or why, like Lear among his throne you must choose and so must I.
That question is the commonality, and the only one I can ask myself now:
Why.
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