Monday, November 14, 2022

Alien

 It’s not ever seen. 


Physically, anyway.

 

The way the moonlight slices across a face. Highlighting the floor. Jagged edges. Hardened lines. Night is dark and harsh. The wickedest things happen. The darkest things occur. The torrid affairs and weakened thoughts.

 

How many days have I had these ideas. How many nights must pass before the moon crashes into the sea, thrusting the planet into a watery grave held together by its own gravity swell.

 

The things I think. 


The places to go and people to meet. None of it matters. Held in the shadow of time. Inaction is my warden and my body is my prison.

 

I know. As I sit. And hear the cars, distant I’m afraid. I know it. I don’t belong. Not in this plane, not this time, not this century: not at all. I am wrong. I can sense it in my hands. They vibrate differently. My soul aches at an altered frequency.

 

Every breath I take is stolen from another.

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