I didn’t start out invisible. It was a gradual, slow folding in.
Unlike a snake who releases its skin whole, my cells shed one by one, floating and dropping like colorless confetti the day after a parade.
Did I feel it, this unmasking? Some days I did, yeah. At the beginning mostly, before I lost myself completely. It was only then that I began to miss the pain.
I am mobile in my invisibility, yet it is a mobility restricted within a sphere that sardonically shifts and shimmers, taking delight in my entrapment.
Why don’t I break free, you ask? It's simple, really. Without eyes, all barriers become impenetrable.
I am invisible, yet I am not an apparition. There are no ghostly footsteps, no knocks, no whispers in the night. Instead, I lay quiet, intransmutable.
There are days, when the sweet winter wind whirls around my nothingness, that my skin yearns to renew. Layer by cold layer, I feel my cells start to return like paper mache upon its host. But then the air stirs and turns saccharine, cracking the veneer, leaving me invisible yet again.
Will I end as I began or will I remain as I am?
Come close. No, even closer. Only then will you see.
Unlike a snake who releases its skin whole, my cells shed one by one, floating and dropping like colorless confetti the day after a parade.
Did I feel it, this unmasking? Some days I did, yeah. At the beginning mostly, before I lost myself completely. It was only then that I began to miss the pain.
I am mobile in my invisibility, yet it is a mobility restricted within a sphere that sardonically shifts and shimmers, taking delight in my entrapment.
Why don’t I break free, you ask? It's simple, really. Without eyes, all barriers become impenetrable.
I am invisible, yet I am not an apparition. There are no ghostly footsteps, no knocks, no whispers in the night. Instead, I lay quiet, intransmutable.
There are days, when the sweet winter wind whirls around my nothingness, that my skin yearns to renew. Layer by cold layer, I feel my cells start to return like paper mache upon its host. But then the air stirs and turns saccharine, cracking the veneer, leaving me invisible yet again.
Will I end as I began or will I remain as I am?
Come close. No, even closer. Only then will you see.
RSS Feed