The Extraordinary (Poems Unearthed)

Between the “shouldn’t have’s” and the “shouldn’t do’s”
I find myself wishing that I had done more,
For if I did, I’d be so much farther from the crimson door than I am now.


But here I lay, within these four walls that have held up through the roughest storms 
And that will continue to hold up beyond my own self implosion.

All I have ever wanted was a voice, but the more I find it, the more my nightmares are realized in understanding that everyone knows their time of death.

I’ve written pages and pages of pleas, all directed to some being that left me crumbling, decaying as some sort of punishment for a crime not of my doing.

But what can you do?
When I ask, is this real, where does the definition of substance enjoy itself, if not on the line that pushes me further into this hysteria. 

Call me manic, but I’ve seen the eyes of those with sorry feelings, their gray tint, the yellow seeping into the corners and their light, lost.

I’ve seen the dreams that have brought me promise and have heard the only voice that has responded, unlike you.

When perspective creates definition, am I right to say I’m still alive?
Or have I perished along with my dreams so long ago.

Who am I and when was I?


Speak no evil, See no evil, hear no evil.
But where would I lie?

Or is that all I can do?

I do not support the idea that there’s nothing more.
Rather, seek a mirror and tell me what you see.

Do you believe that there’s more beyond your understanding or have you figured yourself out already?

When you rest, will you be able to spill your secrets into wandering ears, feeding into the notion that you live to fuel another’s purpose.

When will you see the fishing line that holds your limbs together and urges movement in a still environment. 

-

In the cosmos the clouds are grainy pellets of sand, condensed together by a force that makes them hard to touch.

No, I was going to make a connection but I feel you already know what I wish to say.
The sadness becomes so suffocating, I wish to have been born of a better caliber.

Death is very similar to something, I’ve noticed.

Death does not discriminate, it does not lie or cheat.
It is one of the most straightforward things we’ll ever experience. 

So I do not wish to be born better, of either standing or class.

Some try to escape it, those who feel they have fate controlled and muzzled in their pocket will try to outpace it.
And try they will, being sold the idea of legacies and some form of permanence in a world that does not accept the idea.
However,
Death is very similar to something, I’ve noticed.

I’d like to say things are relative.
My joy to your sadness, and the amount of life in death.

I’ve died quite a few times.
It’s not something I think you’d understand, but perhaps it’s better that way.

I’ve lost myself and still do, sometimes laying in my bed hoping my breath is the last but it never comes.

Not when I’d like it to, at least.
I digress.
Sadness is an extension of death that one can experience at various degrees. I believe that sadness is the acceptance of circumstances you can’t change.

Fight with your indomitable spirit, but only when you understand it’s futile, do you sink into a great blue and seemingly has no end.

The further down you go, suffocating and praying for air, the more your limbs struggle to keep up with the commands your mind shoots at it.

Then begins the disconnect between your mind, desperate for another chance or a different circumstance, and your body, begging for release and rest.

So you sink, and the light fades into nothing as you forget what the sun even was.

Deeper and deeper, you get cold and the pressure begins to crush you.
Your limbs, previously wanting rest, begin to convulse and bend in response to the pressure that starts to shrink you.

You feel so small and your mind cries out for absolutely anything, you’ve forgotten what you know and only focus on the feeling of being in a pressurized vacuum.


In the moments you’re still, getting ever so used to the feeling, you notice there’s life beyond you unlike anything you’ve ever seen.

They have lights to traverse through the darkness and you think it reminds you of something, but you don’t know what.

Now, significantly smaller and almost frozen, you sink to the bottom. You can’t move and you’ve lost your ability to think. The first thing you see as your eyes adjust is a barnacle and you believe that must be you.

So, without a mirror, you live as a barnacle at the bottom of the ocean because that is all you were ever shown in such darkness.
-
Eventually, as you spend your days underneath the surface, you learn that life is quite simple. You eat what comes by and you get what little light you can from those above you that come and go.

You don’t feel anything about their freedom, but you sometimes allow yourself to follow the light with your eyes until it disappears. 

At some point, a light gets close to you. It’s attached to something and the warmth fills you with an emotion you’re not sure of, and you see yourself for the first time since your descent. 

You’re disfigured from the pressure and you pay no mind. It’s how life is beneath anything you could ever know.

But the light in your eye within your reflection brings back a single memory that sparks a single feeling.

Joy.
You’re pulled to the surface in an instant and land on the course, grainy sand, all of you brought together by some force.

You feel warm and you look around.

There, you see it. 

A complex world, filled with others that looked like you at some point.

You’re confused and scared, overwhelmed by everything you used to know.

And then it begins.

The first wave washes over you and you look around to see a crowd of people around you, flashes going off that remind you of light down below. You cry, your voice strained from lack of use, but a new skill you remember.

You try to shield yourself and wonder what you have done to feel even worse above water then below.

You try to crawl back into the water but they pull you, their nails ripping into your stretched, delicate flesh. They keep dragging you back

Blood falls beneath the sand and you feel worthless.
The water does nothing but remind you of a life in which you were safe.

You forget happiness, you forget joy and the eyes that meet yours are soulless and you ask yourself who’s the true monster here.

You run your hands through your hair and scream.
-
You're far from the water now, beaten and bruised with sand stuck within the open wounds.
They watch as you feel so far from home and you feel strained.

Your vocal chords throb and your face feels warm.
The sun was gone but it reminded you of your first descent.

You begin to cry and you hold back your sobs, shocked at such a reaction.
You feel as if you’re suffocating but your face gets wet with the abundance of tears.

You feel something.
You feel happy.

The water feels nice against your skin and you begin to crawl towards the water.
You feel better as the wind blows against your face and your wounds don’t feel so bad.

It feels chilly against the stress of water and you wonder if the ocean ever did leave you.
As you feel yourself sink back into your benthic state, you smile.
-

Now, you're back to being a barnacle.
However, you remember the skill you learned and begin to sing.

You attract many creatures, some of them illuminating your rock with their light.
You sing and sometimes, you're able to see your reflection.

You sing even louder as you can see the light within your bruised eye shine even brighter.