For Charlotte Poem
By Mary X
Through the needle’s eyes
I see clouds,
grey clouds on the horizon,
I see many men
and many women,
falling from the sky
as spheres of light.
Through the needle’s eye,
I see a void.
Pitch void in a massless globe.
In the hearts of Gods
I stand on my last, isolated
apex.
On this last leg I stand
with one arm caught
behind with guilt.
Memory serves Devils
and bars block the view
Through the needle’s eye.
I see a whisper on inner lips,
silencing the air with delicate words.
And here lies the tomb
of a filled up
man.
Here lies the grave
of a dawn
soaked in petrol.
Yet through these cold
days one remembers
the sun sometimes.
Its fragments lie heavy
on the ground.
Yet my apex is over
the bridge.
One could only smile at such destruction.
One could only stare
into a desperate face
who’s heart lies heavy
on the windowsill.
As one reaches the tunnel
end a song bursts
as a balloon air.
A mirage,
A Collage, of whistling
birds
paste the sky.
Through the needle’s eye.
I see a smile.
Gods and Goddesses happiness
take form as thunder.
I see rain.
I see I.
I see nothing but my
reflection staring
back with voids
sporadically scattered…
I see the rim overfilling
and spilling
and drilling
to the ground.
I SMELL SMELL.
I SEE sea sight.
I hear nothing but a
broken shell
ready to snap back as clippers
on my brain.
I move forward yet on
a high building top
I move down.
I revel in me.
I stop going toward the
solution.
I begin by opening the
door to a landslide
facade.
I chatter shattered people
DRESSED IN FINEST
GARMENTS.
I ring back the wet
morning grass.
I spill my guts with
true venom.
I reside inside my
own two eyes.
I imagine here
a place where
no one hides and no one
believes and no one
talks and no one sees
and no one hears and
no one sneers and
no one bothers to care
because my perfect
place has nobody but me
there.