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Thursday, March 20, 2025

Room Of Somethingness

Room Of Somethingness
© Surazeus
2025 03 20

In dreamless nothing of the star-black mind 
I search for meaning to invent with words 
which I breathe from gush of the water stream 
that shouts loud at my face with mocking faith 
as I lean close to catch the darting fish 
so I can roast it on the crackling flame. 

Still dreamless in the realm of mystery, 
I gather fearful flowers from lush fields 
to untangle regret from roots of herbs 
that cannot clear confusion of the fog 
with flash of sunlight through its veil of hope 
that pierces my heart with anguish of faith. 

Twisting spines of books from aggressive trees, 
while I somersault bitter sea of joy, 
I build expanding house with countless rooms 
with brooding horror of the stinging rain 
that mocks my attempt to shelter my heart 
from haunted normalcy of restless wind. 

Stuck in perpetual wakefulness of faith, 
delicate eyes still dissolving to rain, 
I move through unconfirmed shadows of time 
to hide in cavern of fake innocence 
in nowhere rampant with sorrow denied 
by urgent quietude of still-locked doors. 

To each adjacent room of somethingness, 
half-stuck inside books of weird fairy tales 
disgusting as slime of the seaside harbor, 
I progress backward through stark formulas 
designed to calculate abundant fear 
collapsing in the future we abhor. 

Tomorrow never comes from fog of war 
framed by basement window of the stained heart 
that runs with feral attitude of pride 
to catch moonbeams encased in angel wings 
offensive to the man who claims as his 
everything that exists on this mud world. 

I hear no clocks chime hour of broken hearts 
at sudden intervals of falling pears 
despite the radio signal no one hears 
crackling in tangled wires of my glass brain 
with zealous passion for social ideals 
consistent with how castle walls reverse. 

For every door I knock on with respect 
ten doors are locked against kind prejudice 
that disabuses how horizons shape 
fraught ontology of cathedral hymns 
which children assemble from puzzle shards 
so I can claim I know who I should be. 


1 comment:

  1. Orpheus tries to fix the clocks of broken hearts with wires woven from shadows stuck in the room of somethingness.

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