Awash in an in between
where everything seems foggy
yet somehow painfully clear
time stopped as she sat
breathing, took little more than a nod
vision unnecessary
yet there.
The world had died
yet this is what living on must be?
A fleeting thought then a floating nothing.
"How strange" she did swear
wondering if quenching her thirst
might bring her back into the world
or at least the world back from its grave.
She reaches over to shift the sound to a musical flow
but she does not know what more to do to make things
fantasy rather than the reality that they now appeared
surrounding her on all fronts so that there was no edge.
Her unfixed gaze suddenly lands upon blades
of a plant that stands off in another room
barely within the last view.
That breaks the silence of the present
to fling her into the corners of the
places easily judged yesterday and tomorrow
forgetting that only now is real.
Now gone and memories simply little wisps of clouds.
There was a feeling inside that presence
that left her knowing that only in imaginations
pretending that is how things are
can anyone be certain that they have made themselves
beyond much of anything
other than the stars.
You cannot get rich being an artist
but you certainly can go acceptably mad
and be deemed somehow eccentric in
an odd sort of genius unacknowledged til dead.
She thus retreats to do another self portrait
probably considered bizarre but for the few
who really understood.
Those few ~ gone and un named too.
~byKateyB
