.transparency.

Eternity approaches
An overall hypnotist, alleged and crude
Diving through the thoughtlessness at hand
I need
To etch me into glass so I can see
And be deaf to my surroundings
I take comfort in the distance
Between the stars in my sky
But I know there is one out there somewhere
Somewhere beyond the black, in the way
After all, there is no such thing as forever
Without hitting something
To wake you back up
To know how it feels when your sheets
Don’t smell like your own
Instead, like rotten kisses
And wilted smiles
It feels like the bubonic plague:

A virus that kills more people every second
Than any disease anyone could ever manufacture is
The realisation that you truly believe
Your life isn’t worth living

I want to kill and sustain at the very same time
To throw myself out of bed
But hide under the covers
The duality of the moment eats away
At my sense of belonging---
Belonging only to me
I want to scream:
“Lament! Jesus fucking Christ and his bloody nails too!
Fucking
Bleeding
Lament!”
“But my child, it was all for you…”
And I find myself on my knees for the third time that day

I’m all to used to servitude…
After all, once you’re born
You can’t go back to the
Warm crimson bed in which you were knitted
Stitched together cell by cell
Seeing through nothing but your own eyes
Now there is such a haze of uselessness
(I could say ash but there never was a fire)
There is a slate on which I beg to be drawn
So visible it burns my very nerves
If only I could un-see myself
Through one as distinguished as you
I wonder if I would appear any different
If I’d only see transparency staring back
Or if I’d see my face
Cracked and bleeding but still pleading for salvation

I wish so much that my soul could escape through my eyes
And be transported to a painting
Only to sacrifice my last tear for hopelessness
But I seem to have smeared my watercolour
Pay no mind…
My face is not any less blurry than before
Before the fine lines of my own mortality
Outlined my breathing
With a pen known only as
Time
The ink has run out now
Still walking the halls of my existence
All of the doors are locked
And I have too many keys in my hand
They all appear the same
While calling out taunting words
As if to narrow my line of vision all the way to the end
This door it won’t open either
At this point my fingers are fading
They say I am not grey enough
I can’t be a shadow
And even if I were
Whose shadow would I be?
“Not mine”
they say
1000 voices all rolled into one
But it’s still barely a whisper
Against the roar of my echo
“Echo… echo…
“Lament…”

Not a shadow nor memory nor expression lingers
Just my whispers and me

By Aimee Sanjari
Written 2004
Revised 2007