written 2004.10.17 uploaded 2004.10.25

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"Winter Wishes"

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I

I've been yearning for this cool weather to retake its reign over the sun, blot it out as though it never existed. It has been an insatiable lust since the moment I left the comforts of Europe, with its fresh, crisp air and gentle atmosphere. America has always been so cold--but not at all-- this California more so, seeing as it is where I have been chained since my birth.

I dream of the open skies that mottle themselves with stars and clouds, birds and lights--not this smog-filled wonder, polluted air that clogs the sinuses. Take me away from here and tie me elsewhere! I cry for mercy from those pitiful gods of others--plural or capitalized? Perhaps even both. I withdraw into my shell and await the winter to come once again.

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II

The summer, the spring--maybe even autumn, too, depending on my mood--are much too cheery, much too warm for my flesh's taste. No, I rather the cool and dark blanket of clouds in the sky, dripping silver honeydrops to turn away these sins. Acidic possibilities, but I know that those will pass and leave me to my splendorous feast of sweet, smooth molasses. Drowning myself in the fruitful skies, as though I will never find my death--over and over and over again, each try to no avail.

But all too quickly, my merriment must fail, for the dreary call, the oh-so- very dreary call, of reality's woeful, loatheful memories pulls me from this bliss-of-dreams, this sweet release, and bids me leave this peace.

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III

The pitter-patter of footsteps replace the sound of rain, a child's moaning cries, the siren's never-ending screams drown out the sound of a capricious wind, but! O rejoice! The cool, quiet world remains! ....Though even this is only a pretend, for to glance up and back from bed to window, I realize that it is only still the dead of the night, nearing the day's revival by the hateful sun. Not even this simple concession brings me any peace, this substitute temperature that whines and pleads me accept it as I do my winters. No, I forget that I ever found bliss in this balmy nightmare, no matter how many guises it managed to take--non-winter night it would always be.

And I know that all things must end, then taunt me to think that none of it will ever repeat.

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~ Damascus Ochre ~