Nov 15
wondering about rain's picture

the haunting of a once quiet pond

I am haunted by all the people
I do not want to become.
They follow me everywhere,
in the eyes I meet,
the hands I shake. Like the
ghosts of guard dogs chasing
even my thoughts to the edge,
the very brink of a wilting pond.

Hearing the unhearable whispers
of those cursed flower beds,
“don’t be like him, dig me up.”
and I try I dig, dig, dig, digging,
no pick me up picks me up,
I need to keep digging.
But that’s not the flowers fault.

I turn like a kids toy, repeat
the same song i'm a damn disney
movie. Never even dug the flowers,
they are still singing.

When I came back down to earth
from the repetitive rings of saturn,
I thought I felt sun on my back.
Orange glow followed me
all day, nothing but a phantom
feeling meaning; I miss you summer
when I laid face down in the sand
and the dogs were gone and I melted
into nothing in particular, apart
of the seeds core. Bliss.