The Making of an Unknown Emotion
I sit as light wanes
But rain remains a staple
On my skin keeping me stuck to the bleachers I begin to wonder
if the rain feels the same on your skin as it does on mine
The night envelops me
Like an eye blinking
The reflection of day still burning
Its shadows played out on the wall of the lid like an ancient tribal ceremony
Illuminating shadows of the past
Present future, but still
I don't understand why I prey on your memory like a vulture-
And as the day rests its mind all of its interactions are internalized,
Transferring control to the subconscious to compartmentalize them
Its events bouncing on the wall of the id until they are lunatics
In a communal confinement cell of memory foam