Merciel

Merciel

The Sea and the Sky

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  • February 26, 2023

    Digging Deeper

    Digging Deeper

    When I fall into a ditch too deep to climb,
    I cry out for help, but nobody’s nearby.
    I try a few more nights, this desperate dance,
    but nothing changes. Nothing ever does.
    So I let go and dig, dig until the light
    vanishes from sight. This pothole might become
    my grave, but it’s too late to change direction.
    I dig until I lose all sense of gravity—
    up becomes down and silence becomes sound
    and cavorting with death becomes life.
    I dig until I break bedrock. I see new light.
    There is new ground to climb on the other side.

  • July 5, 2022

    Virtual Reality

    Virtual Reality

    Life lacks sense without fantasy.
    Take me back to my virtual reality.
    Crushes and dreams empower me
    more than past friends and family,
    obligations that burden each day.
    Held down to the dirt by gravity,
    I reach through glass for an escape.
    New love born of old lusts,
    new life molded from dusts,
    Out-of-body, in my own head,
    I live a dead life and embrace
    rebirth in virtual reality.

  • July 4, 2022

    Social Distance

    Social Distance

    The twilight ahead me hid your face.
    I saw my reflection in your place,
    a burgeoning burden, future omen,
    Cold War brewing each day.
    I gifted distance as a grace.
    I misread your response. Filled in the blanks
    with the words I told others at your age,
    but you are not the same.

    Neither a broken branch nor a fallen seed,
    you exist apart from me. I see shadows
    I interpret as the battles
    I fought at your age. I built walls to escape.
    They grew between us through cracks left unfilled.
    If I destroy them, will you build one of your own?

    Blame it on the past that preceded your presence.
    Blame it on the plague, but you are not sick.
    Blame it on premonitions that I push you away,
    but only I fulfill that prophecy. You are not the same.
    I wipe the fog I mistook for a mirror
    and see your face unblemished by my own.

  • January 20, 2021

    Frieza

    Frieza

    I feel like I’m Frieza, a natural prodigy,
    untrained but willing to change.
    Sometimes a spark convinces me I can overcome
    the gods if only my heart would beat again,
    but no battle brings me alive. No world entices me.
    I languish in hell in wait of an escape,
    a wish I still take for granted. I said the words
    to manifest my dreams into reality,
    but the universe never understands me.
    I wander the world a ghost trapped
    between two dimensions and tangents.
    Even if I possessed all the strength in the world,
    lost in another dimension, I slip through, cracked.
    Bring me back from the dead, I beg you.
    I’ve grown so cold, but with you by my side,
    I would transform. I would shine solid gold.

    Image by Arek Socha from Pixabay

  • August 1, 2020

    Hearts and Likes

    Hearts and Likes

    A single heart once fed me for days
    fruitful with future possibilities
    fueled by walking winter nights together.
    You were drunk. So was I.
    You on beer, I on sight,
    but we both sobered quickly that night.
    I knew from day one the dream would end,
    but prolonged it with “let’s be friends,”
    but we were never friends, just hobbyists.
    We committed to different trades.
    You were a teacher, and I was a slave.
    You continued your vocation, but I changed.
    I found now love made from plastic, vinyl, and metal.
    My diet outgrew meat and moved toward grains,
    fruit I could grow on my own.
    I tired of the chase. I never caught what I wanted.
    Even when I did, it never looked the same up close,
    lacking the glimmer that trapped me a mile away.
    Too many wrinkles, sour humanity,
    not enough of the glamour I drew
    from the hearts on screen that symbolized dreams.
    They were only flashes of light, distractions
    from a life I did not want to live. Now that I do,
    the hearts float away like clouds
    I’m unable to grasp, but nothing is lost.

    Image by footiechic from Pixabay

  • August 1, 2020

    Asylum

    Asylum

    I found peace in the asylum
    roaming like a lion among the inmates.
    They do not notice me—
    they struggle with their own demons.
    I once sought their sight,
    but their eyes are a chain.
    I threw away the leash.
    I walk on my own through a world
    I no longer know. Indistinct voices,
    indecipherable sights line the arcade
    but do not disrupt my day. Pandemonium
    cascades into distant white noise.
    I return home warmed by the flames
    and cooled by the night that is all mine.

    Image by Anja🤗#helpinghands #solidarity#stays healthy🙏 from Pixabay

  • June 12, 2020

    In My Bed

    In My Bed

    How far must I move from the bed
    to prove I’m not dead, but awake?
    Another body could offer evidence,
    but then what value does life have
    if solitude lacks substance alone
    and truth is determined by democracy?
    I was not the first to fall into fantasy.
    I played with dreams like toys as others
    made careers out of their conspiracies.
    They have the right idea. I take life
    too seriously. Gods, magical creatures,
    and superpowers only I can feel.
    I can embrace it all. I can make all dreams real.
    The bed is but an object that senses perceive.
    The only true reality is subjectivity.

    Image by PIRO4D from Pixabay

  • June 11, 2020

    Mirror

    Mirror

    The mirror calls itself light when sunny outside
    but cannot be seen during the night.
    Lovely platitudes grace its clean face
    until something stands in the way.
    The clouds will still come and the seasons
    will change, but the mirror only shines
    when the sun brightens the day.
    At night, it’s just another wall.

    Image by Ich bin dann mal raus hier. from Pixabay

  • June 10, 2020

    Mask

    Mask

    No face exists underneath this mask.
    3D printed plastic replaces old flesh
    lined with vinyl to smooth out the shape.
    A vice held the pieces in place
    for three months outside direct sunlight
    until the seams stitched together.
    The gestalt of mismatched materials
    gives the surface a marble expression.
    Unmoving lips produce a voice now heard.
    Unseen eyes hide but observe.
    Painted contours imitate real life
    and conceal true emotions from sight.
    Shade from the heat and shield in the storm,
    the sun does not frighten me anymore.

    Image by Stefan Keller from Pixabay

  • June 1, 2020

    Living at Home

    New month. New me. Same as the old me, but slant. Normalcy returns as society reopens, but I hope to hold onto the lessons I learned the past three months with me as I step outside for more than coffee. The loneliness sucker punched me the first week of the quarantine, but life becomes surreal when everybody you see is behind a screen. I am lucid in my dreams, honest and direct with my intentions, which I am not in reality. I fear the truth will isolate me, but what do I have to lose when already isolated? I survived this season’s solitude. I thrived in it. I learned to live with myself as I lost the opportunity to distract myself with other people. I found joy in virtual raves and video games. I dabbled in arts I sorely neglected. I found validation in the mirror. I found a life within my home.

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