Day Three: Part 2
Day three. A different three. The weeks have travelled at incomprehensive speed. My lips parted. Neither darkness nor light, my body leans against the new calmness, and stills alongside the violent storm. I could get used to this–loneliness. A feeling of peace and content. A feeling of pleasure rushing through my body as I reconnect with my being who flows loosely in a plane so unknown to me, where I lose a tiny piece of myself each day until the final piece breaks and I get sucked into the lifeless abyss. A depth so feared by many, but seemingly peaceful in my eyes; for I know that all is well in this new plane and one needn’t worry about the atrocities of life above. Living in life below.
Day three, the sun shines mildly. My Mother is indecisive, and it pains me so. Their tears fill the empty bucket that sits by my window. I love to watch and listen to the light droplets that tumble and crash with each thought shackled to memories so deeply engrained; memories, a torture so sweet.
Day three, the rain pours deeply. My Mother is indecisive, and it pains me so. The bucket nourishes me with a feeling so dearly missed, so familiar, so intoxicating. I love to be warmed by their embrace. Slipping into a deep and comforting cave. Will I ever leave?
My brushes crave my touch. They crave to be engulfed in the lubricating ink that dresses the nakedness of my canvas so elegantly. My brushes move on their own now; capturing my every thought. All that are raw and passionate. They move in sync with my aura. This feeling is exhilarating. I cannot bare to part from it. I cannot bare to part from them, who have made this existence seem worth the burn of sealed lips. It’s day three. My lips part and my body is neutral. What a funny and unfamiliar feeling. I will soon crack a smile.