dark pools Friederike Wiessner
i slowly open the door to my nightly dreams, hadopelagic depths of what is underneath i throw light onto the retina wall, through plastic shards of un-moments i replace ceilings with glass i stand naked and without defence, my head tied to look straight ahead pupils diluted. immovable my screams futilely fill an aphonic room you, alienated adulterated memories clothed as nightmares i can't seem to differentiate recollection becomes paralysis, in fear i wake, with a sense of loss and mourning i am tired of gazing into my own injured heart of being rendered m o t i o n l e s s and begging for you to prove the night is gone— the nights burn my feet, make them dance roundelays i am unable to tell whether i move back into the middle or out into the open my bare feet search for daisies and the dew of morning nights like films, like glitching re-runs, foils laid over my day, hazing out the sun shadow is dimmed, colours are levelled out into different sameness as my insides shrink i crouch, anticipate the next hit panting to recover still
28
