i’ve seen this film at least a dozen times but tomorrow will be only the second time seeing it on the big screen

and sometimes
the sadness is so
crushing you
just levitate.

no, nothing
happened.
you are
sliding thickly into bed,
and you are
happy to be doing so.
the room is
quite cool like
you like it and
dark like you
like it and
the bed is cold enough
to bring your skin to
a densely hillock’d
texture. but,
you like this,
too. and know that
soon your body will
heat the small den
you make of the covers,
and your skin
will relax
and your eyes
will soften
and then…
crushed by sadness.

perhaps
the softening and
the loosening of
near-sleep,
have also let
down the iron gates
you keep quivering and upright.
it’s like they have come
down and now
the great ogre of sadness
has lumbered in and
crushed you.
and as it picks its
oafish foot up to
trundle on through your
wrecked room, you,
are there, stuck,
to foot’s bottom.

so you levitate.

as you rise you
see the wreckage of it
all, and you cannot
keep the shadow of
gone-ness from pooling
over your life’s entirety.

you’d like to
leave this town, but
your mother lives here, and
this life is so dastardly
in its finite ticking.

the gone-ness of
everything.

and so
again sometimes
the sadness leaves
just as suddenly and
quickly as it arrives.
the gone-ness of
everything remains,
yes, but so does
the here-ness.

gone is here.
and
here is here.

your bed is warming
so pleasantly
so you strip the remaining
clothes from your body and
stretch yourself into all
of its bedded corners.
you leave your bare
arms out in the cool
bedroom air so they can
hold open
your book and so they can
soon dive under cover and
you can again feel the bliss
of warmth on
bare skin.

the sadness is here
with you still,
and you feel yourself
both cooling and
warming. and so
you stretch
yourself into all corners
of your brief,
finite,
impermanent,
perfect
life.

Published by Zak

an intertidal island in an ocean of impermanence.

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