I tap on the wall for there is no door
you cannot hear me
It is here I'll wait
It is somewhere unknown
Few can hear me and those who can
Are busy and indifferent
The world doesn't pay attention
It focuses on its own given cog
Must I do the same with the chipped pink brick
Hard and well stuck into the pile between cement
In this high wall I will never climb
No birds, no sky, no color
So I wait from this side of the wall
It's an interesting sense of void
Of total silence in the shade of some artificial light
Shining timidly from edge of a dead horizon
I must knock somewhere on the brick
less abrasive of course
My knuckles may need to be protected
Then again if the grazing was bearable I'd scrape them
I sit back to the brick
Enjoying the lack of any stimuli
The goneness of it
You cannot hear me
another century and I'll walk into this desert
After the strange light from the dead horizon
Or perhaps some unfortunate adventure
In the meantime Ill paint the wall with the sweat of my back
Dream of you somehow opening a hidden door
Like a faceless lizard suddenly sporting a wide smile
Guaranteeing some form of familiarity to a long ago earth
Your face would come whole with eyes and all
And you would naturally see all of me
Placing those things i've lost along the soul crushing exodus
To this strange backward realm
One that my external self hates
From inside I love
A realm that seems to allow me to feel more alive
A longing remains like radiation
never to dissapate
It seems so many things
need to be acknowledged
Therefore accepted
processed and acccepted
The patience of these hungerless, thirstless decades
The rumours of you in mirages of the dead desert
In the inconsistent positioning of pink chipped brick
Knowing this too I'll never have
In some surreal way learning to love it
learning to understand how to let go of hope
Above no sky, out here no sound
Here there is so much space
A sense of void
Of loving and not feeling any love
Of touching the brick yet not feeling oppressed
Of reaching out with senses
Yet percieving nothing
Just the abrasiveness just the emptiness
Have I learned to love that?
Probably
The desolation has brought the heart to the brim
The lack of everything
paints how i felt living on earth
So many brilliant things
All so much better than me
Yet confused faces some hints of admiration joined
to make pink chipped brick walls like these beside me
Giving me something to lean against
Something to take a few drops of eternity
to support my weight and distract me from this distilled nothing
This flavorless aromaless realm of post life
That I understand already but you can't relate to
You cannot believe me
And from the other side of the wall
You cannot even hear my muffled knocking
when my grazed knuckles can afford it
