(Ωmega, from We Soon Be Nigh!, 2012)
In a cave. In a swell. In a dark and secret fold in the earth where one can yell and scream as loud as they wish and give it their all is swallowed whole and taken from them. Where you can lose yourself. Lose a part of you that is dying and in need of renewal. There's fragile things along the cave walls and there for you to grab and throw deeper into the cave. You can hear the sound of porcelain shatter into a million and sprinkle down into powder. You can burn the world a new down there. You can forget all your troubles. You can be swallowed whole yourself and eventually you throw yourself into the mess of darkness and uncertainty, -and be forgotten, destroyed, shattered, and lost yourself.
But unlike your yells and unlike those fragile things you threw into the darkness your body and mind will not produce a sound. It is almost sad that they don't, giving no satisfaction in destruction. But that is exactly it, nothing is being destroyed, just renewed. Your bones crunch and crack, your flesh is tore and ripped, the sound of bones breaking resonate internally and your nerves are burning with pain. You shake and you see white flashes as your face smacks against a solid rock wall, which is just darkness against darkness -an invisible wall. Eventually your body, lifeless in its decent, comes to a rest upon the jagged rocks below. You call for help but only the echo in your mind swirls around and eventually fades to nothing. You are high from the pain your body is feeling, you are lost for the darkness that is absolute and all around. Your flesh is burning and your thoughts are distracted by the pain occurring throughout.
No angels come to rescue you. No guiding light from the world above shine on your hopeless mess. Instead you get up and crawl out of the cave. Each step you crawl hurts like hell and you laugh at how ridiculous this all is. You keep pushing yourself further and further until you no longer hear the drops of cave sweat falling from the ceiling above. The sound of a jungle surrounds you, the softness of soil meets your dirty hands and though it is completely dark and there might be tigers or panthers or other things that can very much kill you you feel relieved, perhaps even safe. You have the strength to walk again and so you walk. Brushing against you is the softness of leaves and branches. You wonder where your body is taking you and realize it doesn't matter, -for you are in a jungle in the middle of the night, surrounded by the calls of nocturnal creatures and the howling wind. Your feet are shoeless, your legs are pantless. You are naked and your gentiles are vulnerable to things that can catch or poke them. You realize you have the strength to run and so you run. And by some sort of miracle you run and you run freely without hitting something hard and something that could stop you. And though your feet laid bare there is no pain in the peddles and twigs. The dry blood on your flesh and the open wounds give you strength, they tell your body that any pain your endure now is a joke, is a half-ass excuse, is only just the tip, to what you have gone through, that you can perhaps survive just about anything because you have survived just about everything. Bullets could come flying at you, they can even hit you, they matter not to you now. That panther can come roaring out of the bush and it could grab you with its teeth and tare you apart, -it matters not to you now. You run, your face is smiling, and you are laughing again.
Isn't it ridiculous, isn't it amazing, aren't the gods crazy, and aren't the cosmos and everything in-between absolutely absurd and amazing and beautiful and fucking grand, great, and puzzling? A grain of sand on a beach. A drop of rain in a hurricane. A brick in New York. A leaf in a forest. A key in all of the music there ever was (past, present, and future). A comma in every written word. An "uh" in every talk. A cancer cell, a particle of light, a single-cell organism, an earthworm, a flake of dust, a woody cell, a pigment, a pixel, a dot, a sample, a clone, a cry, a river, a bend, a wind, a word, a thought, a feeling, a place, a history, a nothing, and everything. All fading, all folding, all going away and coming back, blowing, touching, rolling with the tide, in and out as the moon comes closer as the moon moves farther away, away, away. Until...Until...And then...and Afterall...Is Said. Is Done. Undone. With Vengeance. The Return of. pt. II. pt. III.
The sky above / The clouds rolling by / In patches of gray and grayest blue / A white and rainy dreariness / Rolling by / Just / Rolling by
On repeat. Endless. Endlessly. Rolling by. In time-lapse. In slow-motion. In a still. In a moment. Everything lost and everything found. Slowly coming to an end and then a deep breath in and a final exhale. Ahhhhhh....
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