by Justin Teoh
In that moment I did not feel the presence of god
my bolster grasp constitutes a cartoon barbeque stance
i am carried away by hoods here but not there
the wide laminar river, i’m upside down nearer—
engulfed this superflat scape of no echoes
to which my senses discerned ran past eternity
up above the fog, the stars are not stars but clouded
eyes unflinching as the chants go near far and in out
i untangle but i am then untangled in the bind
to bloodless sinews and fibres, from the twine
a child emerges. it is everything and everyone at once
Another scene starts here: a transit terminal,
every other bump has a code to which—
among the bristles of sentimentalities—there
exists chameleonic wendigos with triangle eyes
i am his/her/their guardian but even a blink could kill the line
After an eternity in consciousness, I was released
and it is still unbearable; i scramble for my dehydrated
fibres and instead of constructing them back in I wrap
myself in these individual veins tighter and tighter mirroring
a wrestle with Weltschmerz for what could’ve been because
all their revelations will not anymore branch out from
gray pavements musty rooms murky waters where songs still echo
but an excruciating columbus towards the vortex
of obscurity, sucking itself out to your version of the styx.
I reach a bank which is a mushed pillow
But the riverfalls still behind my lids
i battle it’s rush and my inner flame
yin yang fluctuates as i hear the Child say:
“Since I was so early done for,
I wonder what was I begun for.”
