I am locked down in my head.
Traces of breath are buried on the outside.
Tick-tock, tick-tock, tick-tock
Talk,
Talk to me.
Trickle down my throat like the stories you’d trip over
alone, asleep.
When the door is ajar
I tip then toe to your knocker
alone, awake.
But you are closed, shut, bolted
Locked down
in your head.
My room is too big,
the balcony too little
to breathe in the sky and carry it inside.
Maybe I should try to focus on work.
Concentrate, concentrate, calculate
Contemplate?
Can I navigate
this empty house with too much time
ticking away, taking away
all of my spirit.
We touch each other through opposite ends of a wall
chorusing, “If death comes, may it take our separator part.”
You cave in, I cave in,
we stay in
this ruin, isolated,
Locked down
in each other’s head.
Whose roads lie open
so I can go
and feel the blushing morning snow
against my cheek
upon my brow
for in this moment, the here and now
I am alone
I am a stone
I am an island
knocked down.
The break in me is abrupt,
I crash and then erupt
waiting to be
opened up.
On the terrace, I light a candle
with a flame so faint
Hope burns flickering in high night winds.
The borders have faded,
the corners have blurred,
on our knees, we unite.
Freedom is ill,
all thought is blocked
and I gasp for breath
until unlocked.

Viveka’s work

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