The Dark Continent

I am down
the watership sinking
my body has failed my mind

I am tethered
my feet are buried in the earth while my mind seeks the wind to fly, a kite on the breeze and gone

gravity perplexes me, that it will not cooperate when I ask so politely to lift above the air
the tarpits grab my thoughts with metal, bone, flesh-stripped claws, existed a thousand years waiting for these words I will never say, buried in my mental grave
pointless sticks, I stab myself
I do not bleed
I court the other side, the yellow lines crossed, flirting with the disaster that never comes, tempted by metal smiles and varnish that drives away
I covet the heights, my gods, the temples others built for other creatures I shall never meet, and I see the end, the edge of the world rushing towards me with the speed of the sunset
I am forbidden in these places, rejected by the society I do not, never, seek
Regret, this constant companion

the voice of the republic whispers through the dark shadows of a house I cannot leave, haunting, tearing down the walls so secure
I am crushed, the petal pressed between book pages
dehydrated, I have wept so long
water sings of silent places and glory of days gone by, that I have missed by my ill-timed birth, my perfect mistake that I cannot make, or undo
masked behind this shell of someone else’s skin, burning, crosslike, in the sun, with these grandeur ideals and visions I mistake for memories
the feeling I’ve done all this before, and better

I seek the one thing
no, I seek many, but I seek the one thing I can never confirm
proof, absolute, that either I am real in this world, or you are, that my thoughts are true and exist and have impact on this world, that your thoughts are true, and exist

I weep with a timeless dance, the pulse of a world I cannot prove
burned by shadows that must prove a sun is out there, floating, ringing the worlds ‘round it, whipping us through the darkness

if I have just one proof, one speck of magic dust drifting on a cross breeze from some long forsaken, forgotten place

then the beat shifts and I am gone, on the wind, on a breeze, lifted, floating, drifting high in darkened, lit-up skies with neon trim
applause follows, mistaken for mine it cures me quick
but darkness stains
still I am sick, ill
the cure that kills me brings me back, the electro-magnetic bomb
boom
burning cybernetic buildings, tearing down the city in my mind, the earthquake thunder, rumble, the broken hide where the needle sticks

my walls are blue, ‘cause I can never say the least
spitting snake poison and chewing scorpion tails, the death rattles that a crocodile throws
the hyena’s laughter echoes across my chemically induced desert storm, the phantom illness that only the shadow knows
pop and nonsense cataloged as the creative mind, drifting thoughts shifting to allegoric gore
the ending end that ends it all
silence shifting to whispered voices

bug infested dreams that have shifted, drifted, to the corners of my eyes
the black spot, the mark of death, flocking to me in droves

tension builds in my muscles and cultivates anxiety when I cannot move and when I walk
my heartbeat is broken because it keeps a perfect time, a pulse echoed by the dirt between my toes, earthworms singing like the marsh choir, frogs, the steady rhythms of dying things

I see no future
I mourn the past
I cannot move
the pale horse has pulled up lame for what else could delay my lover?
at the cradle of civilization, I was infected and carried it all this time, a lifetime gestation

the witch doctor warned me to stay, told me of the danger
I did not listen
I refused
and became my great mistake, the engineer of my existence, flawed machinery, suckled, but motherless
howl, my despair, curse

the spark that doesn’t catch the flame
the fire that dies, buried in sand
the shifting sand, chameleoned

the push is gone and I cannot end without the shove that knocks me off the cliff

and it is a cliff
I have coyote’d over the edge
trailing behind me a line of signs that display the obvious in a language I cannot read
my own unknown native tongue that shall now, also be, foreign to me