Comatosed
Complete coma. I’m no faker. All of my organs are swelled with lack of movement and anti freeze. Evoking evokations of past moments of stillness. Of sitting with my cheek against a frozen window, tiny flakes brushing the lights, hiding everything in red fleece. Of tears that had no real reasoning but threatened to isolate what was left, the hypocrite in me already bursting forth. Everything works in cycles and circles, some that I hadn’t even noticed. And I thought that some of the lines had been broken and I was working in some new kind of coil now, but apparenty not. Winter is the perfect time for these all engulfing isolationist moments. Not that I’m quite there yet… I long to cloak myself in black satin punctured with fairy lights, to move magically and camouflaged at the same time. Coma daydreams are fun. Like pushing a multicoloured self describing glitter ball into my brain. COMA DAYDREAM No 764 Cubed bagel sky. And my mind is filled again with ridiculous memberings of creamy, bloodstained fingertips, tentative with guilt, that brushed away the tiny strands of straw creeping towards your eyes. Transparency is me. I shall speak in riddlings from now on.
