Unwanted dispositional detachment

There comes certain times when the soul splits TW: dark thoughts

Uncertain sorting
Relating the depth of the mountain feeling
Becomes an unachievable feat
When the audience is blind

They will become mesmerized by fog
Addicted to the painful wet green
That dampens the back of sightless eyes

Some art cannot be made accessible
Paintings cannot be songs
Voices will never be seen or touched

If the artist never understood to begin
Paint is only wasted telling a story
Memories convey more doubt

Wishing to know soon becomes consuming
Music written in the wrong key
Many things were not meant to be

Ineligible absence
Writing a song must be lovely
But I will never
Because of those who cannot hear it
Painting a mural would fulfill something
If I could bear the thought
Of adding to the things someone cannot see
Not all the world can dance with joy
Would they want me to dance without them?
And if all could hear, they would never listen
Not to me, who cannot sing
If all could see, they would not gaze
Upon any work of my hands
This creative energy will remain potential
Never to be made kinetic
For many terrors could ensue
If anyone would find me–
A feat I’ve never been able to achieve
They would see something that would scar them
More a monster than a being
So I will grace those who cannot experience
By not giving them something they cannot be
Art is meant for being
And all those who cannot be
Should not gather to partake
I will not steal reality from those who can choose
For that chance may never come upon me
And so I shall survive, not to create

Porcelain scented abysses
stumbling into the wrong room
suddenly neck-deep in thick paint
unhandled marionettes writhe in murky liquid
unprepared for the scene you’ve interrupted
the figure turns around, gaze meeting you
too late to run, they glue you in place
unkempt hair tops a shadowy silhouette
unknowingly, you shift in your bonds
realization hits you as you learn your fate
remembering you’ve been here before
even a miracle could not free you now
eternities can elapse within this room
doll hands grasp your ankles
detaching your skin from your flesh

something catches your eye
shining, waiting for you to cross the room
hunting you to taste your blood
hope fades completely away
understanding washes over your skin
unfortunately, you will never leave
time will pass without you
try to scream, but your mouth is

Soul abandoned for time
Anyone could have been that cat
On the hot asphalt,
Warmed by the wonderful weather
So surprising for not yet spring
Especially here
Anyone could have been confused
Especially by the sudden appearance
Of strong warm winds
From the southwest
Bringing a surge in temperature
Anyone could have been crushed
Writhing on the pavement
Shocked and hissing in pain
Begging death so desperately
Not to take them today
Anyone could have been abandoned
Left for dead because of hurry
With none near to comfort
Cars speeding past the place
Where they took their last breaths
Anyone could have been killed
Destroyed by a two ton monster
That quadringentupled their weight
Given not two denarii
To pay for their wounds
For now, anyone is stuck wondering
Remembering a life no one cared for
The image of that cat
Is forever ingrained on backs of eyelids
Flashing forward with each blink

Unserrated truth
Being comes naturally to some
They remember things
They can still spell
They aren’t afraid
When their eyes are shut
Wondering not if it’s
Been dark for too long

Feeling comes naturally to most
They remember what home is
Even without the song
Timing pace without metronomes
Comparing space without counting
Liking something without obsessing
They know that water refracts light

Truth comes naturally to some
When existence is unapologetic
And the air never seems suspicious
But some must keep counting
Chanting, pacing, singing, searching
Drowning, reminding, accepting
Reciting, observing
ending

Lime flavored streetlamps
Something feels
And when it feels,
It is wrong
Because feeling is wrong
Something is amiss
But it shall remain
Forever undeterminable
Because of the paths
That snake ahead
Under dimmed lamps
Not many obstacles
Are even able to be
To be
If the feeling cannot
How can the being
Be
It will be far easier
When I do not
Feel
When I am not
But that cannot
Occur with me
With my existence
Or confounding
Paradoxes
And split
Electrical circuits
The wiring
Has been
Tampered
With
And now
The
Carbonation
Is much
Too far
To detect