Once More with Feeling
What if instead of a body with legs and arms
a mind a middle a penetrible vee you were
a wish or memory or not-here or gone-thing
not missed, not remembered, no solid state
amorphous as breath expanding beyond the lips
on a cold day, frozen trinket, sparkle in the eye
not even a wistfully twisted hair represented you
unseen, unheard, unimportant, unbouyed by the cacaphony
of paler yous shouting with inborn distinction, me too.
image from pixabay.com and edited with WordSwag
Mmmmmmm. <3
You get me.
An interesting thought. Is this about someone who is trapped in a life where they have no control over it? Invisible to the outside world. That's what comes to mind when I read it.
Yes, in many ways.
There's something lustfully appealing to the idea of being ethereal, unreal, unexamined, unconstrained, unobserved, unnoticed... Like when someone in Star Trek climbed onto the transporter pad and Scotty calls out that something went wrong and he lost them... they just became millions of atoms scattered across the stars. The pattern buffer or some other science fictiony construct had misbehaved and the person was just gone. Mmmmmmmm. I long for that.
You are speaking my language right