Conflicting Storms



At 3 AM on a stormy night,

I looked out of the window,

The lightning bolts flashing like

A natural disco ball;

The cat purred, it needed to be fed,

The other cat lay slouching,

Much like his dysfunctional owner,

I drew myself a bath,

Sank into the tub,

And stayed underwater for

Twenty three and four seconds,

But chickened out when

The bubbles of death showed up;

I took a towel, folded it into a swan,

Unfolded it again, folded it into a rabbit,

Unfolded, folded, unfolded, folded,

Until I started feeling pity

For the poor towel,

And then I wondered if anyone

Ever felt pitiful for me;

The rage of the storm outside

Grew like a hellish inferno,

But the flame inside me

Was calmer than the ocean;

My heart felt non-existent,

Perhaps it had forgotten how to beat?

If you think about it

Loneliness and Emptiness

Are like Bert and Ernie,

You cannot take one

Without signing up for the other,

But when you feel empty,

You don't hear yourself anymore,

Or your thoughts, or demons,

Or the cats purring,

Or your lover confessing that

They fucked someone else;

I guess that's what emptiness sounds like,

It lives on without making a sound,

But grows faster than

Any storm and any inferno.


//NaPoWriMo, Day 2


[Still from "Perfect Blue"]

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