Time's Distortion

Time’s Distortion:

There is a moon in my throat; it is lodged so deeply, so violently, I choke; I turn violet. Falling, time paints me a cosmic rainbow; it is filled with blues from Saturn, reds from Mercury and pinks from Venus. The cosmos, now violent, coils the spirals of time, she then shifts her haughty figure, her locks moving with a grotesque grace, as I gasp for air in the salt filled sky. 

There is a song, the singers loop its notes like coils, they boast of the cosmos’ glorious genealogy, as translucent waves string a song, I swim through midnight blue skies; the song being sung helps with the brutal navigation of the burning velvet stars. I swim, through an ocean of stars, until my nose turns pink, until the lack of oxygen distorts my face and time contorts her form, until the sky becomes a deep blue ocean, and time, the sea-beetle, vomits and time, the sea beetle, melts into an icy liquid seeping between the cracks of my finger. 

I become one with the strings of the cosmos; I merge with the shape-shifting sky. I dance as all that engulfs me takes the form of a beautiful blue sea, bitter saltwater and carbon dioxide fills my lungs, as I swim through a translucent midnight silver ocean.

Cloud grey asteroids constrict my lungs and their air passages; my eyes turn a deep black as my chest is filled with space-salt. There is nothing I can do but swim through time’s sky-sea. In the distance there is an ominous light, a night daisy, dim, it flickers in the orbit of time—like a coin in water. Like a needle amongst a pile of hay. I give chase; I won’t let such a gentle light escape. I become a moth to a flame; I become fly to a corpse—as I run with a sweaty chest, the light seems to become more than allusive, it appears to defy the laws of physics, appearing in places unreachable by human speed. The night daisy, the light, grows silver butterfly wings made of water and ice; it creates pink portals that I can’t use for my flight. 

Alas, it flees my breast strokes, I fly, as I swim in a midnight blue ocean, from my tail, starry wings sprout, springing me into the air. I begin to create black portals that move at the speed of time. The strings of time tie themselves in a knot; they tie the locks of cosmos into a nappy ponytail; their movements distort the path of time. I am sent flying, my pursuit disrupted, into the matrix of time. 

Entangled in sticky matter, I fly higher; I am now able to locate the light I pined for. I now climb the atmospheric ladder of matter, transcending my very existence, which once was that of a human, my tailed wings, flapping with a deafening loudness. I gain altitude; sound contorts its stiff neck, as I erase the space between that light and I—I rise. I know I will become violet shooting star—my only wish: to catch that obscure shining night daisy and hold its gentle lips whose kisses briefly blessed my eyes. Time is lost on us forever now; there is no way to escape this cosmic matrix of time and crystalline string; that is, if I ever want to reclaim my humanity. 

My backwards winged-tail flaps forward in a broken rhythm; I freeze as I acknowledge I might forfeit my humanity forever, the light freezes, time gives us a sly grin, as it freezes as well. From the center of the matrix, snow dances on our cheerful plight, which has now been reduced to silence. Pluto rains down cold sprinkles; they give us icy night kisses, the silver charcoal lipstick left stain on our freezing foreheads, lips as soft as God hands are—whoever She is; God must have touched Pluto with a grace only known to the Heavens. Because her kiss still gives me shivers. 

Well, that kiss sure kept us in place for a while—perhaps—time stood still, its strings still holding those nappy locks in place, we, that light and I, were children playing freeze tag with the night daisies and sea beetles. Those kisses made me forget our game; there is moon in my throat. Violently lodged it is, it chokes me so deeply once I catch the light, I shall cage the night daisy, the light, as long as time stays a sky-beetle. The skies, midnight blue, sings me lullabies—I choke on the very item I pursued. There is a mystery afoot, time has coiled in ways unknown, the snow has grown wings under dancing Pluto’s rise.