Tuesday, October 11, 2011

blue haze - a poem by Warren Griffiths

intricate lines of blue
trace sketches before my eyes.
I gaze at them,
lost in their transient existence,
as they lose their identity in the soft cloud fed by my exhale,
that hangs beneath the light like a luminous aura.
A formless entity.

I stare into its depths in mute recognition,
occasionally offering a silent query that returns unanswered.
My minds fades, recedes deep within itself.
Useless images float before me.
I try to hold onto them but they slip through my grasp,
like formless apparitions and I am left with - nothing.
Emptiness.
Like a void filled with the echoes of silence,
or a darkness lit only by shadows.
A feeling fed by numbness.
Nothing.

I reside in contemplation,
twirling the butt between my fingers,
slowly watching my hand carve a slow trace,
through the ether,
drawing the fuming incendiary to its destination.
Pausing only to correct my aim,
I plunge the ember into my flesh,
pressing hard to maximise the effect.
The air sizzles,

I recoil at the first bite,
the burning dagger stabbing at my recognition.
A wave of painful euphoria sweeps over me,
and for a brief moment I can feel.
ln an instant I exist, I am real - alive.
But then, as the ache subsides,
and merges into the ambient static,
my briefest of companions is cast aside,
and I am left with - me.

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