Thursday, 31 August 2017

OUR SOFT COMPULSION



to step back and look
like a space raider might
or a door made sentient by magic

well they may find it crazy
or maybe madly sweet
that
at
night

after administering
ointment and salves
and swallowing
compacted preparations

we all lay down together
in a soft compulsion
and silent agreement
in different softer clothes
or less clothes
or no clothes
on as soft a surface
as
finance
allows

a soft surface 
designed for just that

and
then
under blankets
and
under quilts
our
waking 
grace 
is
gone
as
our legs and feet
strike out skewiff
our arms flung or folded
bent as broken crosses

well they may see this
as code or a ritual message
acted out on an upholstered plinth
us as an unthinking sacrifice

and there we surrender
with
little
fight

(are we all children ?
 they may wonder)

into a vulnerable unconsciousness
like a death
but for fits
of blurts and gargles
and 
pillow 
muffled 
mumbles

protected only by walls and glass and faith

and what these observers
can not know is that
we
then
journey
on
interior
voyages
to
strange times in random lands
where
the faceless and familiar
can
sink
away
at
a
touch
overwhelmed by their own
mysterious meaning

and the space traveler
or furniture made thinker
may
find
this
activity
makes
any observed insomnia
appear
a
sound choice

the proverbial picnic

to be awake and on watch
may make much more sense
may seem an obvious job
to their new fresh eyes

a safe and essential insurance

tho also unknown to them
the
struggle
of
tired wired
sleepless exhaustion
is
a
fuckpit
of
half sanity
to us
at best


Related image
from wikipedia.org

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