The Ocean And The Sky
All the moments that have led to now
play out—
projected onto the insides of my eyelids,
a film I’ve watched a thousand times.
And still,
it shakes me to my core.
Visions of the ineffable,
with impossible implications.
I wander through a twisted maze—
of lies and revelations,
bitter clarity, manic fantasies—
pulled in every direction
by truths that don’t belong
in any single reality.
?
Into paradoxical dreams,
I slip away.
Pitch-black waves crash onto me.
They knock me to the ground.
I inhale salt.
I drown with every breath.
A beating heart
in an open chest.
Life and death—
one and the same.
?
I am waiting on an island.
And you are the place
where the ocean meets the shore—
where the past collides
with where I stand now.
It rains down on me.
I try to fill my lungs with sky—
all I ask for.
I lie face-down in the sand,
writing my name again and again.
It’s never the same twice.
I am this ocean.
I am the sky—
the thing that is killing me,
and the force that keeps me alive.
?
And you are,
simultaneously,
the thing that has destroyed me,
and the only reason I’ve survived.
?
“It’s okay,”
you say.
“I’m here.”
I turn and face you.
I sigh in relief.
It’s alright now.
The sun is so bright.
It’s calling us home, I think.
Should we walk back?
Are you ready?
?
This is hope.
This is peace.
The end of a long, long road.
You are alive.
?
But the mirror breaks.
I cut my hands
trying to pick up the glass.
“I can put it back together,”
“It’s okay.”
But my fingers are bleeding,
and the rain
has turned the sand
into a thick paste—
like cement.
The pieces of the mirror
slip from my hands
and are carried away by the storm.
?
But I’ll find them.
It’s okay.
I search the ground—
desperately,
blindly.
?
Now—
I’m spiraling deeper
into bleak visions
born of corrupted memory.
Distortions of all
I can’t bear to see clearly.
Pulled toward the cracks
in my delusion—
where the unthinkable
becomes thought.
?
You stand with me
on the stairs of hell.
“I can get you out,”
you say.
“I have the answer.”
But—
you are hollow.
I blink,
and now you’re lying on the ground.
You were never here.
You were already gone—
an illusion
assembled
from the echoes of your life.
?
I try to pick up the pieces
left of what you were.
Flames leap to lick my feet.
The heat rises.
My hands sweat.
I drop what’s left of you.
Your blood carries it away.
You are gone.
?
Now,
I am standing
in a vast field.
The ground is thick with muck,
too soft to be dirt.
And there is nothing here.
There is nothing left.
Everything has already rotted away.
You are decay now.
I walk over the pieces of you
I could not save.
The white lilies you brought me—
Crushed.
Still wet
with the last tears
to leave your eyes.
?
Reality is too terrible.
It simply cannot exist.
I know it’s the truth—
but it must be a lie.
The weight of knowing
will carve me hollow from within.
But it is obsession with the impossible
that has eroded my sanity—
incessantly longing for your safety.
And yet,
only your ashes can set me free.
?
And I am
the ocean and the sky—
breathing and drowning,
one foot in Heaven,
one in the Abyss.
And you are both—
alive and dead.
You take the form
of the vile horrors
that flood my mind,
and the memory
that gives me the strength to fight.
The suffering that trapped me in my mind.
The shock that brings me back.
The catalyst of my destruction—
and my deliverance.
At the same time.
You are the thing that left me broken.
And the only reason
I’ve survived.
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