Judgement of Self
Another rough one here folks, I don’t really know what this is—perhaps a guilt of not moving or feeling lost? Either way I hope you enjoy the madness of this weird poem. This is a dual poem, I will explain at the end.
The town spoke of a place deep in the woods, through the trees there waits a sinkhole.
A supposed blackhole where the creature crashes into.
A lottery held to visit and my turn came, apathy seizes me along with indifference;
my bike follows the path—my body lurches backward
The world rotates forward as I spin backward in memories.
I remember time always felt strange to me, the continual lack of it when I:
shower, sleep, read, write (anything from a short story to an exam).
And the sped up version of it when I:
eat, zone out, stress, think of the future.
Time laughs as I am stuck still in no progress with a degree hung on the wall.
I breech the treeline into the crater the creature inhabits.
My skin tingles as I see the swirl of the cosmos greets me—suddenly I am allowed to understand;
Their face is familiar in taking my shape and colour then shifting to the alien of stardust.
My bike falls as I stumble off, they turn to me and I feel air curl and wrap around me,
lifting my soul to examine; my life washes out into crumbled dirt.
Soil furls its way through the creatures mouth, tasting the lies of my time.
Judging me as no mortal could with the gravity of each galaxy,
Their eyes tell me this is the third they have judged.
The dirt becomes a hourglass; the sand quickly running out.
I flail in their grasp as the sand runs out, the air collapses my lungs, I am unworthy.
The hidden poem inside this one:
“The town(‘s) apathy, my body remember breech the stardust, my soul unworthy” — obviously it is nonsense, but I thought it was a clever use of italics.
