Avoiding Silence

I know you're out there,
I can hear you breathing.
Please don't stop...
for both our sakes.
There's something writhing under my skin that only you can see.
The ground is littered with dead things and you can feel them dying.
There's spirits in the clouds.
This stuff pulls away the shroud and we're finally seeing everything.
And then you raise your hand against somebody and you don't know why.
For the love of God, be careful.
Don't let it in.
Don't let it out.
Our Father, who art in heaven.
Burn the sage.
Turn the page.
And tomorrow we'll all be blind and alright.
You don't understand,
and neither do I, but we'll mouth the pointless syllables anyway.

I wouldn't wear shoes.
I wanted to feel the grass - the soil beneath my toes.
If I didn't have that, I would float away
outside of the confines of this body made of toothpicks and spit
that catches aflame in the heat of the sun
and the furnace of air and fire that I use against this uncertainty.

There's a yellow moon.
There's a dancing fool covered in paint with a dice slapping against his chest.
All of a sudden he's me and I'm meeting his gaze in the mirror
and I don't know what to do with what I've found
and there's a pair of hands on my body and they're keeping me here
but I want to float away and leave this cage behind
this sprawling cage that dances and falls down and offers up patterns and

hunger.

But here I remain.

I know you're out there.
I can't hear you breathing.
But you wouldn't leave me in this place alone.