Former Lives (2021)

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Non-Fiction  |  House: Booksie Classic


...Your friends are always pushing you in directions opposite mine. As they aim to rework your future to benefit their former lives. They’ve bitten their tongues too frequently to taste any blood. And they’ve seen too many films to truly define love. Dragging you into the gallows. They misplaced their crutches and lost definition in the shadows. So as they force you to revisit their demons. I shall realign mine...

 

We are all alone. We feel left at the scene.
The trains pass by, carrying only ideas, but we seem to forget the strength of a single pure thought. We seem to forget the lasting impact of silence. We seem to forget so much, but I can’t seem to forget exactly how much I’ve forgotten.

These thoughts come at the most inopportune times and as a result they are lost like white noise amid the black sea. The waves push up onto the shores and attempt to swallow the city, but we've built peaks up above the valleys that once housed our slumber. So we watched the lowlands fill with water, as pools replaced once endless fields that still feel empty; empty despite the fact that they are undecidedly full of motion. But we learned long ago that you must not confuse motion for progress. 

Too often we mistake distance for depth, too often we mistake attention for love. So the seasons shifted and brought about reminders of mortality. Slowly we began to reconsider the thoughts we reconsidered years prior. Oh how the winds rushed in and took away our innocence, how it blew these notes about the room in a whirlwind of past existence. They  gather at my feet as I pull apart the significant experiences, unrelated, and combine them in ways which brings about far greater progress than they could ever have imagined.

Now the lights project these memories across the thin yet vast canvas walls of my cell, and for a moment we let go of the constricting nature that is, being caged within perpetual life. The lines paint themselves across my face so I’m gradually reforming into something more novel as the story etches its purpose into my skin

We seem to ignore exactly what we learn due to these consistent reminders of all we fail to understand, so we document our every movement for fear of missing a mark, and now when we separate we can constantly remind ourselves that we were once alive. We can recall how despite missing the feeling in the present our bodies still understand the motions, like theives stolen in the middle of the night. This has been stuck in my teeth for two weeks, and now my exposure is splitting from light breaks along the seams. Oh the depth that results from but two-dimensions. Alarming how much of my own personal depth is unearthed within dimensional incarceration which I still supply with convaluted conjugal visits on a consistent  basis.

Though you see it is not revisiting the past that tears at our health. It is the way we focus on all the wrong parts of the story line. It is the way we tend to forget the true impact we have on our surroundings while insisting those surroundings impact us to no end. It's the way those surroundings build up inside ourselves until where we were is what we’ve become. So avert your eyes and realign your sight to something more level. Remember things are never as bad as they appear. When the muscles begin to pull themselves from the skeletal remains we will push on. And when our bones become too brittle to withstand the winds of change we will become one with the weather patterns. We will rush from the shores of our homes out to the once untamed west. We will absorb the air that we ourselves project, and we will finally recognize the cycle that we have unknowingly been responsible for creating. We will recognize the vivid recollection of reignited passion, and we will breathe with reignited life. We will breathe as one. 


Submitted: April 17, 2021

© Copyright 2021 Matthew Terry. All rights reserved.

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LE. Berry

Finely descriptive piece Matthew.

Sun, April 18th, 2021 11:12pm

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