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<< ? Poetic Voices # >>THE METAMORPHIC DREAM OF A CATERPILLAR
I.
Out of the darkness I see faint traces of my memories of you. Your body is my cemetery, your kisses the funeral ceremony. Your fire consumes me. Your soul drains me empty.
Unseen hands hurl my body through the air to an unknown destination. Icy air floods around my body. An unknown bright light pierces surgically into deep parts of my brain.
Warm body against warm body dissolve together like salt in water and a welcomed unconsciousness penetrates through me.
II.
A clock ticks loudly in the next room. A deep fog surrounds everything. You come out from nowhere. An iridescent fog swirls around you. I see your eyes only. You are a predatory fish in mysterious dark water.
I struggle to remember. I want to sleep. I imagine that I see your brain in a dark aquarium, in a bubbling gelatinous liquid. They keep it in a room far down the hallway, hidden away from visitors.
From behind the dark glass walls I hear the faint sounds of muffled unrestrained laughter, glass breaking and a scream. The fog swirls into my ears, my eyes, and my mouth. I absorb unconsciousness through my skin, through my skull and into my brain.
III.
Out of the darkness I see the faint traces of my memories of you. I see your eyes like twin black moons peer out at me and consume me with their dark fire.
Have you ever been alone? Have you ever felt empty, so empty that if you could find your emptiness, it would seem like a bright light?
Have you ever lost everything? I've lost my world. I have lost the world. Worms consumed it, vomited it up and fire swept through anything that was left.
I've lost my home. Armies of soldiers with fungus swollen feet trampled down the Earth and polluted the water.
I've lost my family. They walk around blindfolded, unable to see me. Their ears are plugged, they cannot hear me.
I have lost myself. My unblinking eyes stare upwards towards the sky but are unable to see.
IV.
There is a single leafless tree that stands in top of the hill by the funeral grounds that looks like a burst blood vessel flowing into the sky. Children are playing hopscotch nearby. They throw the stone. They hop from number to number. Their jumping and laughter sounds like a muffled clock ticking.
V.
You hold me tight. You say that I am everything. I say I want to wrap you up like silk around the cocoon. I tell you that you are like a dream, the metamorphic dream of a caterpillar wanting to become a living flower, the flower that he is just eaten.
VI.
Finally, an aesthetic chemical flows through your hands, spreads through my skin, and penetrates my brain and numbs it.
I fall asleep and I know that I am the child playing hopscotch, laughing in the wind, forgetting all.
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