Jerome by Anastasia Forfotă - HTML preview

The Last Revolt and Repent

I am placed

in a here of no existence,

spaceless place and timeless hour,

to float in non-body for as long as

my soul allows it,

to float throughout the warped

sheet of the world, unmoved.

And the shelter's grey

- or is it deathless peril? -

white mist coveting the eyes,

I have no eyes,

blank fog censoring my words,

I have no lips,

bleached black silencing the silence,

but where are my ears.

There is little here that I find

real, there is so much

more that I imagine.

I wish for creeping thoughts of

resolution, resolved in redolence,

I wish for remembrance of me, I wish

I once more was.

I might be imagining myself.

I wish I could cry

when you touch my head,

I wish I could die

again, again,

forever, I wish I could kiss you

once more so I can remember

what it is I miss,

I wish I could grab at your hand

- how did you make yourself in here

if I am not

and here is not

how can you be the sole

constant in ruin without end -

I wish I could yell

Forgive me

Forgive me

Forgive me

God!...

Your hand is still atop my head.

I close my eyes.