A film of moisture
covers the window
as silken filaments
of fog wrap around
for my thoughts
to take on
the same vague quality.
I cannot even recall how many battles
I fought, but I know there were many.
I have spent hours, days, sometimes weeks
thoroughly planning ahead, gathering data
obsessively, checking and rechecking facts
until my head was spinning, and
my strategy was meticulously laid out.
I cringe at the waste of energy
as most battles never even took place,
yet in my mind, I already had felt
the pain of injuries I was expecting,
and had treated others cruelly,
some of them very dear to me.
And in the end, the most painful thing is
that I can never be sure
if the negative energy of my thoughts
reached my unsuspecting opponents.
It’s quiet, too quiet.
Freed from the shackles
with everyday activities,
thoughts raise storms.
Fractured abstract syntax
interrupted by obscure symbols,
for immediate grasp,
yet eerily familiar.
of just needing to retrieve
that one missing piece of the puzzle
to understand the mechanics
of the Universe.
Nobody knows me as well
as you do, but it is not enough,
bared to the bone is not enough,
nothing is ever enough, is it?
You always dig deeper
in search of jewels and pearls,
I share with no one else,
so you can add them to your crown.
I can feel the holes in my mind
where your curiosity extracted
parts of me, the scraps and bits
that caught your interest.
And I wonder what will happen,
when my neural pathways dry up,
no longer retrieving juicy details,
when I have nothing left to give…
‘How’s purgatory?’ he asks,
his pointed ears twitching
with curiosity, his purple eyes
fixed on a point behind my irides
in his usual, disconcerting way.
He rocks back and forth with this
strange, rhythmic movement,
a sure sign of his impatience.
‘I wouldn’t know, I’ve never
been there.’ I feel uncomfortable
talking about this. I hadn’t planned
on doing purgatory. I’m more the
kind of person.
With him, you never know if it’s
just nosiness or rather a hint of
what is to come.
‘Funny.’ He giggles, he always
thinks I’m hilarious when I’m at
my most serious. He notices my
consternation, his laughter trails
away and his little face turns serious.
‘You do know where you are, don’t you?’
That said, he pops out of existence
into whatever spatial dimension
he calls home.
You’re dressed up again
in your corporate uniform.
Grey three-piece suit today,
striped tie, light blue shirt,
the upcoming board meeting
already on your mind.
you ignore breakfast
and hit the keyboard,
last changes in your presentation,
predicting questions, preparing answers.
You’re hyping yourself
as if for a sports event.
Work has become another arena
where you go for the competition
with a killer instinct,
always aiming high, in for the win.
My thoughts have taken on
a momentum of their own,
spinning in their usual erratic circles
where all I can think of is,
you look damn sexy in a suit
and I’d really like to
make you late for work.
I sense the sweetness
through your mind
in white cotton candy clouds.
I cast my net
to catch and keep
those delicious saccharine flakes.
I detect the sentiment
through your thoughts
with tender caressing strands.
I catch the ends,
unravel the knots and keep
those delicate silken bonds.