Dark Muse
08-31-2010, 09:52 PM
18 Degrees Below
I sink down behind the skyline,
watching myself disappear,
as the shadows ascend into the darkness
of a blank moonless night.
I cannot escape these compressions
de(pressed) against my head,
I never sleep because I am never awake,
just a flotsam jetsam
in outer space.
But lacking an orbit
to fall into, I can only sink down
and down again,
gravity looses its meaning
because I never hit solid ground.
Outer bodies
keep slamming against
the inside of my mind
leaving dents
which I can never quite push back
out.
I am ran through the ringer
(de)pressed into this
flattened sate
in which it seems infantile
to rise again.
There are no echoes
in my atmosphere
no sunlight either.
I feel the weight
of the sky above
always pushing me downward.
So I remain in this stagnant
state stranded as my own
island, with no one else
to share this space with me.
Always vacant
I am a body without a soul
or a soul without a body
will you tell me once you know?
And does anyone ever see me
where I hover
down low just below
the horizon,
never rising
and never setting.
Even Pluto I watch
with envy,
skirting around the spotlight
but I am always just a darklight,
and there is no one to take me home
no where left for me to go,
just a specter pulled between
the sunlight and the magic hour.
Just an invisible blot in the
horizon of your eyeline,
do you even notice me,
or mistaken for only a vanishing
piece of cosmic dust.
I sink down behind the skyline,
watching myself disappear,
as the shadows ascend into the darkness
of a blank moonless night.
I cannot escape these compressions
de(pressed) against my head,
I never sleep because I am never awake,
just a flotsam jetsam
in outer space.
But lacking an orbit
to fall into, I can only sink down
and down again,
gravity looses its meaning
because I never hit solid ground.
Outer bodies
keep slamming against
the inside of my mind
leaving dents
which I can never quite push back
out.
I am ran through the ringer
(de)pressed into this
flattened sate
in which it seems infantile
to rise again.
There are no echoes
in my atmosphere
no sunlight either.
I feel the weight
of the sky above
always pushing me downward.
So I remain in this stagnant
state stranded as my own
island, with no one else
to share this space with me.
Always vacant
I am a body without a soul
or a soul without a body
will you tell me once you know?
And does anyone ever see me
where I hover
down low just below
the horizon,
never rising
and never setting.
Even Pluto I watch
with envy,
skirting around the spotlight
but I am always just a darklight,
and there is no one to take me home
no where left for me to go,
just a specter pulled between
the sunlight and the magic hour.
Just an invisible blot in the
horizon of your eyeline,
do you even notice me,
or mistaken for only a vanishing
piece of cosmic dust.