Breathing Smoke

There are boats in the distance. Small ones, barely visible in the starlight. They have no idea you're there.

Anew, Once More

There was a flood. That, you remember. A flood that wiped everything away--you didn't realize how little was left until you had finally pulled yourself up to walk, to find something, somewhere. You remember the dull, aching pain of your stump dotting the trail you walked with red specks. That's how you knew there was nothing. Just a flat land, surrounded by the glassy field of water. An island you wore down with footsteps, walking around and around.

As the sun pulled itself out of the waves and filled the sky with white, things began making sense again. It was a long process but your stump was closing, germinating and sweetly growing into a soft stem. You think you can see it budding.

You dip your feet into the water, feeling the wind inflate your lungs to pink.

T E

Spiderweb cracks run through the pane glass window. It's aching from the pressure of the rainwater that's crept nearly to the top of the window frame. It's waiting by the window, watching you as you study the cracks. Your heart is racing but you touch your finger against the glass.

It didn't even make a sound.

You're plunged into deafness as the rainwater pulls you under and everything is swirling around you. Glass, pieces of furniture, books--they all scrape your vision as you struggle to find something, anything to hold onto. You catch the sound of a heaving groan, like something being crushed.

The rainwater spits you out, and you crumble into a heap. A searing pain climbs up your arm but when you grope for it you realize it's no longer there. You sit, clutching the stump, waiting for your head to stop swimming. When you look, there's nothing. The underground is gone. It is gone. You can see nothing else.

Drift and Swell

It's quiet. You lift the plastic blinds, squinting through the glass as you hear the rain fall. It starts and stops with the thunder that only sounds when you're asleep, dead to the world. The water rises slowly; you can see it crawling up the building, toward the window. You smile; it's waiting by the window and you know it would smile if it could. This is the closest you've ever stood near it.

Building, building, building. The end of the world, the crush of fated chaos. Sound and fury and then nothing. It's going to be so hard but you understand why; that's why you're going to go prepared. You lean your forehead against the window, feeling the coolness of the glass against your skin. Beautiful chaos, sucked into order.

The Hose

Breathe into the hose, you'll feel better.

Things are changing but not in the way you expected--instead of changing in front of you they're changing under your skin and you can feel the little bits and pieces shifting. You need to pull some of it out into the open and you know it.

He's there but not always whenever you want him there. Just one hour ago you almost got what you wanted but it wasn't exactly. Someone tried to stick his hand in your brain and you smiled and pretended that he did. He got what he wanted and you're sucking on a hose, filling up with smoke.

It's sitting near the window, watching you as you breathe out static. You pretend it's not there; you're too ashamed.

Prognosis

It's becoming clearer.

You can feel it speeding up, picking up under your feet as you walk, as you stumble to keep up. It's coming, it's coming, it's coming and it will be clear to you, you can feel it--the thought makes sparks go off in your stomach. Faster the messages are coming to you and with such direct clarity it surprises you.

Cut it off. Cut everything off, all of the excess. You're screaming to break out, you're so close. Cut everything off and split away until you're left with nothing but yourself. It's all getting in the way, you know it. It's going to happen soon. Pull the trigger, let it go. Calm, wholeness will follow when everything settles.

You can't let this pass you by.

A Connection

You never invited it in--you never do--but here it is in the underground. It comes with the compulsions and sits near the window, waiting patiently like it's waiting for you to respond somehow. You can feel it there and you know it is expecting something from you but not necessarily any time soon. It knows you'll know when the time comes.

When you first saw it there in the corner it surprised you, and then when it kept coming back it began to scare you. Why is it there? What are you supposed to know? How are you supposed to learn? When will you understand? The more often it comes the more you know that you'll know sooner. Seeing it there has become comforting, expected. Much better than what was done.

Someday you'll know why. You don't now, but that's okay. It's there, and its patience is soothing.

Misfortune

It wasn't supposed to be but it was. To you it wasn't supposed to be and shouldn't have been but when has reality ever listened to anyone? Turns out it was and it wasn't because of something you did but rather something you didn't do. There's a strange sort of irony to the fact that you had just recently heard about the virtues of doing by not doing and here was a perfect example of doing by not doing lead to something done that really shouldn't have. You do have to remind yourself that your not doing was not the cause of the doing but doing could have stopped the doing from being done. But then you remind yourself that your not doing wasn't really a conscious doing on your part in the first place. Now it's like someone took one of those single hole-punch things and punched some skin off of you--there's no way that will close up like nothing happened.

So now you have to live with this weird hole punched into you and go throughout your day in hopes that no one notices because if they did what the hell would you say? It's not like they'd believe the real story--the hole punch thing. The problem is even if no one knows it's there because you do such an amazing job of pretending it's not there you still know it's there and it's itchy. It's so itchy you have to scratch it but then it gets bigger and skin flakes are getting everywhere. For some reason you can't stop scratching it.