karuna

When I close my eyes, I see pools of blood, black blood, radiating a message . Smooth enough for scrying, pungent enough to drown me. Green lining, either the proliferation of algal presence, or the decay of the sacred. Also, see here the pillars of fire that bloom with every breath. A face emerges from the thick darkness, glowing blue and carefully etched. We do not know what his purpose is. Only know that he advances into our face, past our eyes, and slides through the cerebrum, unnoticed. This goes on even when our eyes are open, especially when our eyes are open- for we cannot answer the questions being begged at every instance this venerable dance occurs, even when we open our eyes by closing them. I see many faces, the faces of bronze angels rusted green in the sun, or in the chlorine of the city square's fountain, forever sentenced to watching the haunting maggots copulate fervently in public. Then fronds move in front of me, ever gracefully gliding through the smooth ether, presented as a relief against the harsh red bricks of burnt soul that is the background. Release me from my ignorance, my everlasting foolishness- I cannot stand to watch these things without knowing what they are.

This poem is about: 
Me
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