In the days after, I
was neither solely
memories nor a prophecy. Though
the City spanned
history, itself;
I the poltergeist rose up and
defiled my own grave.
I refused their pills.
I was alone then,
in a wilderness of volatile
expanse and the truly
unknown.
I was like darkness, then
before human machines
but the distrusting public
had sought apologies from
those they had slaughtered.
The sun rose on my day…
I stood by the asphalt strip
and gazed at the silhouette of the polis
a faint shadow
outshined by the light
of a new day.
This was the time of
It was raining
outside the city walls.
There was no precipitation inside,
"We have overcome our weakness
and taken control of the climate,
and it is beautiful and ordered
and guaranteed," said the
Truth Department.
Overcome…
no shelter,
but the void is dauntingly
Beautiful.
I am but a…
i am nothing.
I am
in the midst of openness
and I feel small.
where shall i go?
***
Darkness has set in and so I sleep,
curled
clutching
clinging desperately to the ground,
for the dizzying fear that—
Close eyes. Believe in morning.
She.
not she?
not he…different
focus.
screen, type
From…
Form v-IZ7.7S
smoke
chair and tray and tv
pills
intensity pierces through my closed lids
Emotion
almost unbearable
this sight
the color and warmth…
My room was only on the eighteenth floor,
they reserved the upper floors,
those that could look out,
for the upper management.
I saw the gray-scale shift;
when the shadow slide reached
the twenty-third floor of C-105-7.05,
the building adjacent to mine,
it was time to depart for work.
I dreamt, that
I was once in the Archives
of the Truth Department.
This was a forbidden place,
where words too dangerous to be
completely forgotten
are buried…basement floor six,
below the subway
only the waste treatment and reclamation
pipes and tunnels of the City's bowels
were below this floor
I remember the surprise.
but
Each morning I felt as though I had been
living a reoccurring dream.
I felt as though someone
else had borrowed my skin for the night,
and left me
to wake in my clothes…
They gave me other prescriptions:
Mood Stabilizer
Instructions, Explicit:
Take ONE (1) pill every morning,
with Growth Stabilizer…
But I still swear that dream is real
Yellow-pink, blue-shift…
god,
look at the sunrise
***
where does the sun rise?
Where am I?
and where from here?
direction?
letters: north-south; numbers: east-west
but there are no signs
It's too dangerous to stay by the strip.
what will I eat? how will I wipe myself?
how will I bathe?
how… what…
what dangers are out…
there?
How can I find my way if
I don't know where I am?
fuck.
My days will never again
follow suit;
habit is broken
and withdrawal
my only drug.
I've never seen the sun rise
from so low, but
when the sun was overhead,
this meant time for
the lunch break;
what does this mean for me?
Supposedly, they used
stars for direction;
but in the daylight,
what good does that do me?
And besides, they were under the false
assumption
that the stars were stationary…
all is in flux
chaotic occurrence
coincidentally meaningful
Order has always been a shroud
a blinder placed on sheep
to conceal the Truth
that their sheepdog protectors
are wolves.
but, a fixed reference point is paramount.
Does it lose value in being arbitrary?
Who knew it was so hard to walk away?
choice. my choice.
Here is my direction:
I will keep Amrika to my back
and the road to my left.
My old future is behind me,
the Unknown lies ahead.
It was fifteen meters from my old door
to the balcony
eighteen paces
fifty thousand steps before
I lay my boots to rest,
holding direction until the morning.
distance passed underfoot
vacant long trudge
heel
toe blistered burning thighs
sweat and stomach grumbling
god i'm thirsty
the sun blazes on flat infinite
grassland.
there are standing puddles;
what about the germs?
one thousand steps before
I lay my boots to rest,
holding direction until morning.
underfoot distance and
vacant long trudge
heel
toe
blistered feet and sun-dried skin
burning cramped legs
The sun's long set to my right;
I think I'll sleep under this bush.
I dreamt, once, I stood conned
defending honesty, truth
entirely from
my old stories
retold subjectively
black marker free
but fire put an end to that
and my palms cry burnt reality.
damn their violence
their remedies
this brain-cloud
I had a life.
I'm alone
exposed
cradle me
cover me
smother me
-
first light cool
a bruised shivering
head noise sleep
and warm solar caress…
I think I'll sleep in today.
hours passed before my
blind awakening to
short shadows and sun-bleached
bareness;
the contempt of high noon.
It has been a day since I've eaten
but I can't avoid it
any longer—
I need to shit.
I think, now,
I'd rather a clean hand than a clean ass
and grass and dirt
only cling
to the smudged stink.
where's a puddle?
So, I‘ll use my left hand now…
Should I go back?
Could I go back?
I could claim to be a
refugee.
This has worked,
and I filed the forms
in triplicate
"Amrika Demonstrates Devotion
To Humanitarian Ideals—
Opposition points to ‘Security Risk'
as primary challenge."
political spectacles and
the gluttony of
photo-op philanthropy.
can I ever return?
I must trudge on…
fuck.
Where am I going?
fifty thousand steps, yesterday
stutter two three four five
a moth light point on the horizon
distant horizon
birds and
a bone-bare carcass,
flies and ants
will I see more in seventy?
And what is that glaring reflection?
some village's solar collector, perhaps
or
a beacon?
a land-locked daytime lighthouse…
another blind gathering of fools?
But
my hasty exit
and my cultured genes
have me ill-prepared.
I thirst.
a dizzying circumspection…
how can I find a stream?
where does the land slope?
The blank topography feels like
a Land Development Project
and this openness
tosses me around sea-sick,
like the City walls that
held me
anxious and trapped
call me cynical, but I think
there's a reason…
focus
I did not come out here to die.
seventy thousand steps
a chance at grasshoppers, ants
water.
hope for reaching sanctuary…
The sun has long set over my shoulder
but the horizon point
still stands
luminous
blue white clarity
one thousand steps before
I lay my boots
and body down
to awaken with direction…
counting down heel and toe—
how long can a human
survive without water?
vacant distance and long
heel
toes blistered
shin splints
cramped burn
trudge
five hundred more steps
numbed distance
and vacant throbbing trudge
heel toe
heel toe
toe toe toe toe toe
floating distance
thrown count
only the point
the destination
and a detached burn
a root
and I
stumble
I think I'll sleep under this bush.
Goodnight, me…
good night reflection
my old clean shaven face
turning worn soles
in dreaming
back home
i feel disheveled
-
sleep passed quickly.
there'll be time for it later…
in this predawn mist and overcast
I should seek shelter.
the point still glows
but I fear that
the passing of morning
may leave me abandoned
grey bellowing
darkening
death circling over my head
thousands of steps to travel…
help me, i despair.
underfoot distance and
determined trudge
survive.
heel
toe
The rain began
refreshing
finally,
relief to my sand scratched eyes
it intensified and
I could cup my hands…
Then the torrential screen was lowered
and the village disappeared.
heel toe
trudge
the weather turned against me
as the shower
turned to stone me with hail
storm
wind lashed my face
Abandon course
find shelter
Survive.
where's a bush for
huddling?
a rock
to crawl under?
this closing act was doomed from the start
The storm might pass
but
I am starving
I am lost
I can go no
further
draw the curtain.
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