The Subjective Self

A sideways swim
under the bloated ocean
of self-cognizance;
perfect for the exercise of
the subjective self.

Here am I,
burning in the cradling hands
of the inferno,
waiting for the flow
of the channeled poison of healing;
madness one day to end.
with nothing to share,
and dragging loneliness
through the streets,
I eat the dust settled around fading memories.

And for a brief moment,
as I wander through the crowd,
my vision is suddenly locked onto a pure face;
Your eyes are an Oasis in this sea of dunes;
a brief respite from the ailing populace.

It will make what will happen easier;
as I am betrayed by ravenous wolves,
once allies.

To the sound of
stones smashing my body,
I am able see the light
beyond,
below,
and above,
reality in its fluid form.


10:37 PM 8/16/2012 ©c.thomas.carter