the girl that lay in another world

taken by the ever lovely Sarah Robinson

Sometimes I want to slip through my chair, through the floor which becomes the ceiling, through the grass and dirt and homes of the deceased, decomposed. Sometimes I want to slip through the caverns of inky water to the center of the earth so my body can float on a new sea: of lava, of molten rock, because maybe then my pulse will catch up with the breath in my mouth. Maybe then I will open my eyes and find myself awake. I am two delicate feet, cloudlike, drifting through this world as a dream. I am trapped in my own dream, terrified to reach out and actually touch the world. I hear tales of the shivers a soft breeze will give you, the touch of someone's fingers tiptoeing across your skin. I hear myths but I still have yet to witness them. Am I just a body? What with no mind, no heart to feel. I know that when lips collide against mine it is called a "kiss," though I have never felt the scattered words pass between our mouths. I know that when you look at me with the fire in your eyes you might call it "lust," but the only fire I've felt was in that the dark of the depth of the earth that I've clawed my way to reach. This is my attempt at running away, my soul and body dividing where there is no divine and in this new world I can be godly. With shaking hands I steady my stoic face and grab handfuls of dandelions, wishes scattering among a breeze that I only know is there because I can see the seeds falling out of my grasp. I have created for myself a sanctuary of saturated colors among the veins of the earth. I am waiting in vain.