The Writing Treatment

The Writing Treatment

It’s time for the writing treatment;

Me ferocity is wearing off and a certain figment of a certain day keeps wandering diligently through my mind.

I can’t remember if I was alone that day, or entrapped,

But I do remember the primal beating of my heart when first I laid sights on the woman she was to be.

I found myself the witness, 

And kept gentle distance, soaking in the energy that she was.

A pale light emanated from her presence , feeding my starving gaze with 

Finality and rapture.

I forgot about my pain and her unadulterated withdraw.

Time passed and I found myself a man, still in the mist of her grace,

Ever longing,

Ever probing the depths of her fantastical gaze.

I was intoned to her beauty and I now knew that she was nature in

Its most natural state;

Uninhibited, 

Unmarked or scarred,

 And ever changing…

In a snap my teeth were out of the vein.

Her light was gone 

And the black and white normalcy of existence

Slapped me back to the ground with a thud.

No.  It was more of a smashing sound.

Silence…

And then nothing for a really long time.

More time passed and darkness fell all around me.

Now there was no more black and white to go with no more sound.

Silence. Blindness.

I was getting bored with my state and decided to sleep.

I hadn’t slept in a very long time…

I found myself dreaming dreams of nature in all of her beauty.

She was singing to me in my dreams,

Calling my name with the same longing

That I had always had for her.

I think then that I cried in my sleep, 

I now have wet marks on my pillow and I have to use the bathroom.

One of lifes’ trivial prose.

One of existences many conundrums .

I couldn’t really worry about it anymore and decided to take a walk.

Outside among nature

I found myself walking in circles,

Each circle more intricate and detailed,

In love and in pain, 

all in one, 

an infinity in one,

 all their own sublime energy,

Reaching peaks and lows, 

Some-whats and mediums,

Hallucinatory visions and auditory imaginations,

All the little circles,

Imagining themselves subjectively.