Scholar Minds Weblog : Gray

mediocrity is my sickness

a two-day-old espresso

              drink it –

and leftover prompt noodle soup

              reserve it –

i couldn’t bear to throw out

i couldn’t bear myself

need aching and straining out of me

i’m fervidly unwell

i’m in a closed room

there isn’t any window, no door

a lot simpler to spatter myself

on wall and on flooring

sure, i’m embedded now

a shrine for myself now

and i’m on all fours begging

curled up and shrivelling

who am i calling for?

the moon is my deity

faceless

anonymous

cold-swollen milk-mother

i’m used to edges, at all times on the brink

pressed into the flat define of a yellow wildflower –

the solar is not going to rise.

so i have to study to like gray skies

and wanton clouds mirrored off the window reverse mine

and me, mirrored off the window reverse mine