Post 12: Flying Off The Outer Shell

Faint sounds emanate forth of utter rest and solitude
Crashing waves along the breakers
The shoreline sprayed with a salty froth

Six islands rocket up bravely out of the horizon
Previously blocked by sea-spray
Hope and dreams all convulse
Into a messy blur of aggressive waves

Sun, sea and sand all a-flock
Flying off the outer shell
Leaving no bullshit loaming intertwining
Sounds of people screaming holiday things
My senses lie dormant (feeling ado about nothing)

Four and twenty hours of horror
Turns into an instant of joy
When I see your face it glows
Memories slide into dreams, an alternate reality

These multiple streams of consciousness
Are everywhere driving me wild
Maybe at some point in the future we will meet
Once again be together (be freed)
But I think that is more likely to happen (than never)

Or maybe when hell turns into a snowstorm
A green botanical garden of Hope
Paradise a possibility none can quell
Life is flying quickly off its outer shell

A conscious act to control the bene gesserit within
Active striving to be in charge of all the shreds of reality
The many-headed hydra within one's consciousness
What can I say about this view (this regurgitated duality)?
Nothing I hope that will convalesce and grow heads

Geological faults shift the seas around
Seismic forces assimilate villages and towns
Death in the midst of change, the only constant tale to tell

Any meaning in the cosmic cleft (that I am everything but me)
Any dreaming to the left (that you remain at last nothing but you)
The universe ceases to heft (anything but strands of time in cerulean blue)

Here's to us overcoming the worst of every hell
No more facing petri dishes of putrid humanity
Heaven awaits, watches us flying off the outer shell


-Anne The Obscure