avi sato . be thought . live dreams

i

perceptions

i sit and try to create a new perspective on a past that haunts my dreams but they return in my waking seconds to destroy the temple i have built to worship happiness

i walk through shadowed valleys of premature death without signs of reincarnation doubting the truth of existence with each footstep and straying from myself as i never imagined possible

i leave my mind and float above salted rivers and dry mineral baths that no longer clean bodies and rocks but taste of metal on my tongue as blood flows from delicate wrists

although i remember no moment of clear division of skin or touch even of metal yet instantly i feel myself weaken as internal moisture meets air and shivers no longer come and go

they simply are within me as breathing shallows and twilight appears in afternoon sun with its collapse of the brightness in my eyes as life drains from them and freedom calls

a silence shatters the concentration and i am returned to a reality that i had thought finally ending as i look at dry skin and realize hallucinations’ implied follies

no memory of separation of flesh from flesh walked through my daydream as it was nothing more than wishful unpleasantness on a new pathway to desired self-annihilation

not to be outdone in my hopes an unreality presented itself and i lost my footing and drank it not as wine but water in gasping wholeness as its salt coursed past my metaled postprocessed tongue

there is no silence sitting here in messy half lotus wondering where i went wrong in a life that i never dreamed would last into these interminable years of mindlessness alone

birds chatter as voices drift from trails distant yet nearly within arms’ reach speaking languages i know i understand in theory but whose users experience feelings i only know by name

not by experience nor depth nor even shallow adherence and this saves me they say from the sadness and misery and acts of self-violence that transforms the joyful and grateful

to shimmering wrecks overgrown with spiritual weeds unable to speak simple words of enlightenment or visit places of calm within their souls crying and screaming

yet in my peace i hear nothing but a dream of no tomorrows consumed by a terror that grips me by wrists moistened with hopeful redness flowing over the grasp’s unseen fingers as they twist not in wind but tearing breath from flesh’s disgusting future-corpse

but memory feels of muscle like piano chords tickling beneath fingertips of long ago practice teaching me scalar patterns for unexciting self-examination which is the only music within me

it echoes in its rhythmic manifestations of breath and ends only in repetition to a point where i lose track of their overlays in a canon firing blank verses through ears pierced by fragmentary private conversations

overheard through wind’s sharing prerogatives’ ubiquitous disregard for real-world cookie warnings tasting more of dough than sustenance yet reverberating between blades of uneven grass

yet those thought loosen their grip as i pry unseen and unknowable sinews from the consciousness they tear at and speak aloud to inform ears they are not connected to death’s dark clarion

i speak the words of living to save love’s creatures from interminable tears that i have known since unbelievable absence became morning thief of joyful abandon embodied in playful hugs and lips’ gentle passions

in this moment i taste a lost dream of beauty and its fleeting ephemera makes it all the more real as i close my eyes and accept the impermanence of the petals that for hours have landed on my hair

unnoticed until this second’s awakening to their presence but flitting through my subconscious so their history is not a mystery to me and i know they have reached out to me all along

i sit as always i have yet in now i stop making decisions to walk life’s footpaths in linear programs but in unforeseen embraces unsensed until they arrive not always in beauty

but nature’s harmony smells of states of flowers and reminds me that incense’s temporary stimulation draws its power not within the flame but the memory of past burnings

i have clung to those flickering imaginations in the candlelit recesses of mind that never truly existed while i lost the feeling of arms pressing me into the togetherness of mutual understanding and knowledge of tomorrows’ promises kept

i return to the sound of water not rushing yet always present at the edge of my vision as i open my eyes to drink in the air of wind i had not until i saw it noticed brushing the ends of my hair

not quite reaching to my eyes but dancing beyond sight as it strains at my scalp ever gently but consistently making me aware that stillness is nothing more than illusion

i stand and leave this place by footsteps into the sun still far from that twilight embrace of freedom to be myself as is only possible now as i know in days to come i will return

but new places to sit will have replaced the old as days’ cycles turn to whole lifetimes in their minuscule changes writ large on the canvas of the mountain in varied colors and passionate winds

in their endless impermanence i once only hours ago found evidence of nature’s deceit and heard head’s voices demand human sacrifice of all but my soul

yet its momentary existence saves me as the words spoken once to me amid sheets and dreams shared with one now impossible to touch in anything but spirit

being in that moment never lost to time’s progress but captured as canvased oil beyond the skill of brushed masters as its laughter becomes an archetype for my choice

to act not from a place of loss but one of building new shimmering laughters and hear in them what once was certain living again in a self i believed lost but simply hidden

[avi sato 2019]