acererak

poetry

Prologue ~

I approach the door I see in my dreams. The shifting dreams I've had for the past few nights. Sometimes its the same door, sometimes it's new. So each night, I focus and describe it in this journal The door, so that one night I can choose.

The Sea Door

The air left me. Gazing at the brilliant abalone moulded door.

pink coral decorates the top of the frame.

thick seaweed wrap – fall dark emerald tendrils swaying listless, limp reacting to something in the water

I take a step closer to investigate as little fish hastily swim schools obscured by the abalone colorful sheen

I start to move closer

A small motion, in the door stops me.

A great horizontal slit opens slowly and scans me.

The handle, which was no longer a handle starts to reach out the briny tentacle reaching towards me.

Dark violet water falling silently, reaching towards

I woke up


99/100

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Prologue ~

I approach the door I see in my dreams. The shifting dreams I've had for the past few nights. Sometimes its the same door, sometimes it's new. So each night, I focus and describe it in this journal The door, so that one night I can choose.

The Golden Door

Walking towards this door is like waking up on the first day of summer. I can feel the heat escaping, like sidewalks and grass clippings. Its morning as you touch the door frame. Intricate vine designs pour across the ligaments of its frame.

The gentle pulse, like the heartbeat of the wind, cool ~ dandelions puffs sailing into the afternoon heat.

Laughter. So sweet and innocent I almost instinctively grab the door handle and twist, but thats when I see the door handle.

Gnarled and dark, spent. Examining the opener I see faces. Faces that have been twisted and turned so many times the bodies are indistinguishable against each other.

A throne of faces wound into the intricate turner.

Macabre and beautiful, youth forever locked in a dance


98/100

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words are weapons. through rosy lips, venomous through pens, backstabbing through dance, words are subtle transformed a line a glance motion becomes – statement that cries “get away and softly states “please, please stay


97/100

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When the door closed I felt the wind roll out The small world we'd cultivated burn Its ashes, not even fine enough to hold

That's not what I want to remember I want to remember the winter Wrapped tightly under a blanket To see your face smiling To watch sparks play across your eyes To be there again

Walking hasn't felt the same since that day Coming home to no one Sitting drinking coffee with no one

But the sun, is getting stronger the wind has started to rise

I hope I will too


96/100

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The journeys end like a sidewalks path

The flowing water falling sharply down broken glass

The way two lovers speak each word tumbles past

A reminder That even when the die is cast

The moment fades The endless thoughts get off parade

That you were there That I was too

That for a lifetime

Or maybe just a dot

Things were How they could be.

not. how they were. not


95/100

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I stole a word once

Didn't know I had until in my heart in my heart, her whisper a soft plea for release

the yearning bleats of her cries had at the time made me turn inside to see the captured component in pandora's new box

I felt it so deep me sitting with a lighting bolt or a butterfly wing like id capturing a ring of water held onto the intangible

and she stays with me even to this day

endless chatter, sadness, depression colder now and nothing she speaks matters

the word is mine my precious possession


94/100

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The connections we build. With the places we live The places we work

Mine are no different I realize As my eyebrow raise

The nervous system, of dust tattered books and creaky tarnished flooring alerted my gut that she

She was here My wait over

I could see her fingers wrap around the present id left her

Again I felt her settle to the floor

Then I slowly stood, taking care to lay my own book down I would sneak this time and so I did winding like a python through the underbrush of literary volumes flowing until I could hear her hum

Standing there, opposite a mirror her bookshelf between us I knew this might be my last chance

I let my vision fall, one shelf at a time until at last i saw the book held in front of her Her chestnut hair flowing down onto frail shoulders Her humming slight and sad The sound of a pages turning hungrily

“Excuse me” I began, but the book she read dropped A turquoise shimmer of her skin as my eyes met a cerulean blue it felt like a bubble popped

One moment there, the next, she was not


93/100

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i have a secret world, that blossomed from all my fears, that I scribbled down in electric notes, that will never disappear. when all my days are over, as slowly my words undone, seek out my hidden hamlet and read it while sitting under the sun.


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the breathe caught in my throat as the cradle slowly climbed, click click click in each moment i could feel time being so caught up in the stream, its intoxicating

click

I found a mountain far away, that looked like one Id seen on the drive here, the smell of popcorn wafting through the incensed air

click

We've only talked on the phone, how could this be so easy.

As easy as getting on a rollercoaster

terrifying is . climb . the . . but the drop is what sets love free


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Day 39

“You're the best friend i've ever had” was what the boy had said words which filled me up that feel like skateboard wheels crunching over sidewalk that smell like sea salt kites flying haphazardly through early spring light

“You're the sweetest, kindest man” was what the bride had said through moist eyes and smiling lips flowers draped around the room dancing close, the world shut out our hearts beating in terror at a world that we would build just starting out

“You're the best dad ever was what the little girl said As air changes away from summer cool wisps of fall autumn colored hair back and forth on the swing hazel eyes paired with smiling lips
laughter and innocence

“You were the world to me, mom” I said as I heard her voice fade from the phone The sounds of the machines scream Footfalls, are the last thing I hear as the line goes dim a weight blooms over my chest pushing down on a world that till now only thought it had known what it was to be threatened

Thinking back on those phrases that built me phrases and moments that others planted deep inside seeds I've nurtured, watered to keep growing make me smile even as my body turns a little cold

Looking into your eyes, my once small girls today at last, is my turn “You're the best daughters a father could ask for please love and never be ashamed by it”


Lost a pet today and I got to bury it. This was my youngest first time really dealing with something dying she really cared about. It took me back to when I was around her age. To when Id seen my cat dead on the walkway.

I wish it hadn't happened today but the universe can be just as cold as it is kind.

I hug my kids and keep going

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