(Untitled)

[sightempest]

When my eyes close, it is already morning. The sun slowly suffuses the city with a settling timidity of rediscovery, and because I cannot forget the heaviness of spending the night with obscurity, I cannot do the same. Instead, I heave my legs between the covers; I am coming home to a worn hiding place. The reaction of my bedroom against my body is

Comments

[yeolderoad]

write a book and I will buy it!

[sightempest]

thanks, anna. that means a lot. :)

[corposant]

Maybe it is true that illumination brings clarity, but maybe instead what is forgotten is the lifetime spent in the darkness, dividing the responsibility by intuition alone.

You are extraordinary.

[youmyvoicebox]

this is beautifully written, it really is. i'm obsessed lately with the sun and have always been in love with light and movement. i love how you're playing with light and clarity and darkness and clarity and god, you know? you do, you wrote it.

[sightempest]

I've been obsessed with light/obscurity for as long as I remember, haha. I really love the fact that you enjoy what I write, Kelli.

P.s. I'm reading One Hundred Years of Solitude! It's beautiful.

[bennybunny]

I am trying to decipher here who has hurt you more. You or them or am I hallucinating.

I think, in the insatiable vastness of my room, having moved from claustrophobia to this pleasant tranquility that dwarfs me but also serves to underscore my shortcomings, that I can relate as I watch my art desert me to such a juncture I know not which I wanted more in the first place, and think of a girl I know even less if I feel a longing for a loneliness for. I know I am never the two self same people over the days, that I change with the dusk and sunlight, as if I was never there or in control in the first place, just passengers in two seperate bodies, and it makes it harder and harder to adopt a policy. This is no crumb of comfort to a loved one but I have shut them off.

Is that what you are feeling. I long for my bed to take away the decisions.