Warnings: Death, depressing
Sequel to this Dream Mate poem I wrote a few months ago.
Mist brushed the streets
Dirty with grime and gunk, streaked with the work of the night.
Bundles of people tight
Walk with unsteady steps through the obscured light.
The mist swirls and twists and turns and swells
Ambushing the bright noon, shifting safety to risky.
Standing lofty far above the hushed bustle
Sit those secure behind those tinted panes
Seeming more as a skeleton then muscle
As exuberance is sucked through the life giving green
And ears are turned away from screens bright with red.
Tinted panes that hide the filth and muck are no protection
From eyes sharp and hands steady across the way.
Creeping, stalking he watches closely the inspection
And the mist eddying around him, blocks thoroughly any more eyes prying
Before he steps up onto the ledge and is suddenly flying.
Brief moment of roaring, rushing, and deafening wind thundering
Da, da, dum. Da, da, dum. Da, da, dum. Thunk.
Landing quietly against the façade security.
Quietly turning his black covered head
Birds fall out of the corner of his eye
And he hangs on to the thin thread
That keeps him here on the veneer reaching to the sky
And the mist reaches in and wrenches into his wits
Take a deep, deep
Breath plunges out. I’m breathing out.
His footsteps in the dark, echoing like a shout
The mist pervades
Shifting searching shielding spiteful
The door is open a crack letting the one
Light out, signaling that its begun
The man steps through to the artificial
The man calling, back turned
Only for a moment
The cord whips ‘round and alarmed eyes like rodents
The rodent cries a question. ‘Who?’
And the man is suddenly there knife poised
Make no noise
Make no hum, nor echo, or crash. Don’t clatter. Click, clack
Do you hear it the guns in the distance? Do you hear the weeps and wails of the street?
Do you hear humanity?
The security blocks it out. The vast buildings of forged nobility.
Do you hear past the mist? Do you hear the river?
Blank eyes blink, as they stare into the panicked soul
I am the end and the beginning. I am birth and death. I take the guiltless and the guilty. I have shouts in my heart, corpses in my ears, and death in my eyes.
Repeat the words. Just words, don’t mean anything
The corporate man’s eyes are now emptying
Through the red that pours onto his hands
And the man is back on the street
Below the worthless security that was wrapped so tightly
And the mist has returned to his mind
He tilts and follows the wind
That flows out of the buildings
And down under the ground
To where he begins to drowned
Report, repeat, don’t mention the wrong order
Or the mist
Waiting until the sun goes down
Time to get out of the dream go into
As the clock strikes one
And the blood is washed off in the river
Rushing roaring, covering the shrieks
Kind eyes soften the death
Comfort returns to the man
Until five to six
He is thrown back into out of the fantasy.