Discontinuity In the Sky
There's something wrong in the sky above.
There's a discontinuity of logic there somehow,
And I just don't want to look up anymore.
The storms bring it on you know,
That's when the difference rear
Their ugly metaphoric heads.
Gold lightening filled the air,
Raising hairs on the back of my neck.
Lulled into the false certainty that lightening
Was and always would be white,
The gold seemed most sinister somehow.
But that's not what made me truly wary.
It was the clouds.
Seemingly mild, but ominous just that once.
I'd always thought of them as flat,
Like pictures painted on an overturned bowl,
Lacking most dimensions.
But these clouds, these heavy purple clouds,
Hung down, almost brushing obscenely
Against the unsuspecting rooftops.
And I could finally see the bulk of them,
Hanging down, seeming to want to crush
The world. And the thought of
The innocuous being capable of such
Utter betrayal made me ill.
No one likes the thought of being destroyed
By something usually so innocent.
I had to look away, the sight of them
Made my stomach turbulent,
But I still couldn't block the thought
Of purple crushing clouds from
The eye within my mind.
I just don't want to look up anymore.
I'm afraid of what I might see next.
-srw
>main pagepoetry angst