The Thieves of Motives

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic
This is the result of a dream on loop.

Submitted: May 05, 2010

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Submitted: May 05, 2010

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The thieves of motives escape before dawn. Leave me standing by streetlight; leave me standing in the rain.
The lights flicker; they become memories of mundane lives, the killers of regretful souls, the saviors of the deaf and blind.
I wonder if these raindrops, which often fall like stars, had ever been calculated as closely as I had been.
If, inside their tiny clear bodies, they contain innocence and truth, and crows with messages, cradles of lies, or rushes of adrenaline.
I peer endlessly at these fast small bodies, at their attempts of suicide, at the puddles of blood-their blood- gathering at my feet.
I watch as my feet are engulfed within their lies and their faults, their talents and their dreams.
They continue falling and falling, whispering their secrets to anyone willing to listen, desperate to confess their wrongdoings to something faultless, apathetic, cold.
The blood rises to my knees, and I laugh because this is their fruitless attempt to prove themselves, it’s their time to shine in the moons rays.
It is they who gather higher and higher upon my unmoving body.
I am going numb, they have gone insane.
The streetlights turn off and the darkness wraps around me like a second skin, it appears concerned by the clear liquid that had ridden up to my waist, and he shouts in alarm.
He curses and curses at those streetlights that keep us apart with their light.
He curses at those thieves that has made away with my purpose.
He looks to the east, hoping to see his brother. He pauses as he looks at the horizon: The sun isn’t rising.
I feel the blood at my collarbone, and I smile at the lack of morality, at the abundance of human curiosity.
I smile at the charade I’ve kept up for years all washing away with superficiality and destiny.
The darkness stays with me, calling upon Hades and Persephone, Zeus and Athena, on Isis and Ra, on the angels and demons.
I can taste the blood now, it floods my mouth, it erases memories, destroys personality, kills soul.
The water engulfs me whole, and the darkness, the streetlights, the rain, all of it disappears.
 I float downward though lifeless ocean, drowning within the soundless puddle that had become lethal.
I am pulled, pushed, up and up, until I break the surface.
They are there.
They wave and laugh and yell my name.
I run out of the ocean and into the sand, my brothers- the real ones- meet me halfway.
The sunset shines on the water, the ocean, the puddle, the blood.
It makes me wonder if it contains innocence and truth, maybe crows with messages, cradles of lies, rushes of adrenaline.
The thought seems familiar, as if I had thought it long before, possibly within a dream.
My brothers and my friends congratulate me, they never would have thought that I could stay underwater for so long, I laugh.
 Though suddenly, the water makes me uneasy.
  So my brothers and my friends go home, joking and laughing and waiting for the new day.
As we pass empty roads, the streetlights flicker on.
My youngest brother looks at the sky and tells us that tonight there would be a storm.
My eldest brother and his friend bet a large sum that it won’t.
That night it stormed, the rain slammed into the rooftops and lulled me to sleep.
I had an odd dream, a dream of thieves that escaped before dawn.


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