Andi Leigh Writes

I dream of sunlight infinity. I dream of deepest sleep. Once grasped and held tightly, Monsters will not keep. Free me from sauntered vessel, Bring forth the lucky day. Or lucky night, perhaps it’s so, The time to go away.

Jelling, cut cloth, cut down to size. Trembling fit, unfit, begotten. Forgotten place unplaced again. No space, no home. Unwoven, untold. Pushed outward away. Don’t stay. More room awaits, faith, but not here. Jeer, they don’t laugh but maybe you will. Let them stare, not care, and flee from authenticity. A pity, oh pity, that their utterance drags. Red flags show the pillowed enclosure. Walk forward forever and keep your composure.

Trouble without notice. Eyes deep in distraction. Everyone around not taking action. Feelings mutual, dutiful pastime. We don’t see it, so what of it? Just another crime. It’ll all go away, we pray, we hope. But nothing turns around, There’s plenty of ways to cope. Understand the cycle. Ignore, It’ll all go away. There’s no one on Earth With words to convey.

Will you shout When no one will hear? Will you shudder At the spacious fog? Do you feel the air Around you? Creeping, pooling in Your lungs without worry, Without demand to share. There’s something about The embracing fog, pure Alone time with nothing But your ringing thoughts. A response is needed, although In your own time. Your pace within your voice Is priority in the air.

Grab a pair of scissors. Stick them in your eye. Hold a bowl of sugar, Hope no one sees you cry. Walk on scorching coals. Fire in your veins. Decorate with glitter, Hope no one sees your pain. See the world around you, The heinous acts of course. Tear down all the subtleties. Destroy them at the source.

Early with the sun, Late with the moon. Petals run dry From lack of dew. Craving roots pull down, To a coveted source. Petals last another day. Of course, of course. More budding to do, More chances to give. Early with the rain, Seedlings outlive.

Can I hear your voice One final time? Without the sound, The intrusion Of a thousand different beeps? A chorus that keeps your memory Absent from the present. It keeps your smile In the past, With your lively eyes. Lively eyes that are now Tired of the battle, Longing for quiet rest. I miss the you I knew. But your hand is mine to hold Through a thousand different beeps.

Flutter, flutter, The heart will mutter, Desires to be true. While locked away in gloom, Hiding is no good for you. The truth will spin, spin right out, From even a wicked heart. And when golden truth releases, That’s what sets things apart. Embracing what is known, Even at the smallest thought. Dark thoughts too must surface Or dark thoughts will weep and rot.

Ring around, Sing around, Death is in the air. Dance between The evergreen. Death without care. No matter what is mattered, A cherished goal or bond. Death will come forth, tirelessly, Despite the good that was spawned. Nothing even personal, Death can’t give a care, For Death will drag you down, down, down. It may not seem so fair. And even so the evergreen Will rot away and die, Purpose served, justly proud, A full life, you can’t deny.

It’s taking hold, Oh so cold, And frightening in the fog. So thick this early morning, In a sudden hidden bog. Where am I? So turned around, I’m missing brightened days. I have yet to wholly realize The depth of this murky maze. Before my bewildered eyes, Clouds, inches from my nose, Hazy air so suffocating. I’m where no one knows. I’m missing, oh, I’m missing. I won’t be found at all. No idea where I am in the slightest, Behind these milky walls. I’m trapped, oh, I’m trapped. Panic setting in. The fog enters my heart, Time stopped once within. My face won’t meet the sunlight, The warmth, a memory departed. My bones will remain, In this hidden bog, eternally uncharted.

I felt the needles in my eye, They pricked and pried, feeling fried. A sharpness best forgotten still, The pricking points needling me ill. A faint crawl beneath the skin, Atop the skull, the bone, again. Beneath the surface, icy cold. Pushing forth the eye of mold. Needles jab and dance, they flutter, Around the socket, eye melts like butter. Funny though, they don’t look metallic, Needle-like but more organic. Like creepy-crawly tiny legs Of a fearless flesh-eating arachnid. My eye, my eye! It’s been taken from me! Inhaled by a creepy-crawly I didn’t not see.